Small town Saturday nights

This isn't the smallest town around, geographically speaking. Considering the Western Canadian landscape, it can even be considered a larg-ish town. But some days, it's simply far smaller than any geographical consideration could account for.

We attended a pretty "grown-up" dinner party last night. As K and I transition from living a college life to living one of the working class couples, we seem to be encountering more "grown-up" situtations, which one would expect. We're big fans of the potlucks, nights out with NO plans to get messy drunk (like the days of yore... for me, anyway), and quiet nights just chatting amongst friends. Last night was another of those nights... my coaching buddy J and his wife had us and another couple over for a pretty wonderful dinner with wine and homemade chow mein and games and talk. It was highly enjoyable, and before we knew it, it was going on midnight and this prince was about to turn into pumpkin. Funny things happen when you meet new people, and there just happened to be a few terrifyingly small-town-ish coincidences at the party last night.

So I've known J and his wife for just over a year, since K and I moved to the area. J and I coached a few volleyball teams together, did our teaching practicums at the same schools, and we now play on the same competitive rec-league volleyball team every week. When we received the invite, though, it was the first time we'd planned to get together with both couples, so K and I were really looking forward to it. When he made the call about last night, he definitely mentioned that another couple was going to attend. However, I know about 2 of J's friends and neither of them are married, so I had no clue who the other pair was going to be.

Shortly after arriving and being introduced to said other couple (also a member of the DINK's of which K and I, as well as J and his wife, are a part), A (the lady of said couple) mentions to K that she thought she looked familiar. After discussing work and habitual things we do from time to time, we realized that both ladies work in the same office complex, although they each work for separate bosses and in a separate building. Still, an interestingly strange coincidence nonetheless.

Even more strange was what was about to happen. I mentioned that K and I went to see Martian Child at the movies the previous night. It was pretty cute, really touching in some parts, and being a John Cusack fan, I thought it was pretty well done. A responded by saying that she and her husband also went to see it that same night. "Did you go to the early showing or the late one?" I asked. C responded that they went to the early viewing, the same time as we did. Within another few seconds, we realized that, not only had we attended the same movie theatre with the same movie and same time, but we were actually sitting about 6 feet away from each other in the same row! Now THAT made for a "Holy crap! Small World" commentary and series of laughter that lasted for the next ten minutes. Kinda scary! No wonder A thought K looked familiar!

After being worried about not knowing these people and facing the possibility of having some awkward silences, we had a great night of food and wine and games. Well, I had wine... a lovely bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc all to myself, while some had water and others had some rye. The games were still a blast, and after being severely humiliated at Rummoli, the men vanquished the ladies in an intense game of Cranium.

Still, it makes you wonder how small this world really is, even with it's 6 or 7 billion inhabitants. Maybe that's just Canada... a land of small-towns stretched across a vast geographical landscape, all connected by movie showings and workplaces and pots of chow mein.

T

Fridays and weekends and "fall"ing back in time

I capped off my work week yesterday with a sort-of double-day. I received a call on Thursday night for a 1/2 day job at a middle school that, to be perfectly honest, I dread going to (never good luck there, particularly on Friday afternoons). But, since it was a morning job, I took it on and was happy that I'd still work, but I might be able to enjoy a bit of the afternoon. Yet just as I was getting up and furiously rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my cell rang again... with another job! It turned out that there was another English teacher at the same school who needed the afternoon off, so I ended up working a full day at the same school for two separate teachers. I'm pretty sure this is rare, but it was quite enjoyable to switch gears in this way.

Typically, these Friday afternoons can be a nightmare, particularly when there's a kid-oriented holiday mid-way through the week (even more particularly, a kid-oriented holiday that involves late nights and FAR too much sugar). But, I was fortunate to have a very understanding teacher to sub for yesterday afternoon, and other than one really brief short story assignment and a fun vocab activity for another class, she definitely prepped a few episodes of The Simpsons for me to show the class as a sort of tribute to Halloween (they do a Treehouse of Horrors episode every year... my favorite one, hands down, is in the first or second season where they spoof Poe's "The Raven", which is read by James Earl Jones. LOVE IT!).

To cap off this successful day, I also received an email from a local sportswear company to let me know that my club volleyball jacket was finally in! I've been waiting weeks for it and I was finally able to pick it up yesterday. The reason I was so excited is that I've been waiting since the spring to order/receive it, and it was a gift from my club volleyball players that I coached last year. It's wonderful and I'm definitely going to post pictures of it in the next few days.

Changing gears completely (so I can step out of talking about school/work and get into a more weekend-y mode), I've been on a big cooking kick lately. Well, in my head, anyways. Last Sunday, I decided that I was sick of waiting for two of my friends to send me their Squash Soup recipes (which I've been harassing them about for months), and I went to K's plethora of cook books to find an alternative recipe that I could make on my own. I'd never made soup from scratch before, so I thought, "Hey, that would be fun!". The one thing I haven't mentioned is that although I purchased my ingredients in the late afternoon, I cooked something completely separate for dinner, K was doing some baking and I was watching TV, I didn't actually start working on my soup until about 10pm! Now, this wasn't the smartest idea I'd ever come up with, but it was just one of those days that I was feeling ambitious so I went for it. After finally getting the soup cooked and pureed and cooked again, I ended up with about three litres of soup and noone to eat it! I'm a big eater, but I sure didn't have it in me to eat three litres of squash soup for dessert at 11:30pm on a Sunday night.

I ended up freezing most of it and keeping some to eat throughout the week. It was definitely delicious, so I have to thank the creators of the recipe for "Whisky Squash Soup" from The Girl Can't Cook cookbook... the book is actually really well put together and highly practical for the amateur chef. That's me.

But I keep trying to think up various things I could make... Hunter's Chicken might be on the menu for tomorrow if I'm feeling like another bout of ambition is approaching. For tonight, though, K and I are off to a friend's place for a little couples dinner party. Should be fun! And there will be wine, so double that dose of fun.

So, until after the wine and after the extra hour of sleep we get due to the wonderfully enjoyable Daylight Savings Time (I curse it in the spring and, to be honest, think the whole idea is a bit ridiculous in general), adieu...

T

New days and Fridays

Day two and I'm already exhausted. Okay, maybe that's a bit melodramatic. But, then again, that's me... always looking for the big flourish!

I guess I should explain that this whole NaBloPoMo thing is actually a relatively big deal in Bloggo-World (kinda like Bizarro-World, without any Jerry Seinfeld). I'm not even officially connected to the whole thing. But, I'm a bit of an ape in the fact that I mime those closest to me, and since L.G. is doing it, heck, why shouldn't I? Even though I can't win any cool prizes and the two of you reading are already tired. So, onto more of my days as a TOC...

Yesterday was definitely another adventure. I got a call for a local high school where I've been a number of times. I love it there... the kids are great, I get along really well with a bunch of the teachers, and it's only a 10 minute walk from my house. I've been lucky enough to go in for some honours and upper level English classes and even a writing class. Yesterday, however, was a bit different.

I was given a random job for a guy I hadn't met. But, since I love the school and it was an English job (I'm available for Social Studies too, but the more I teach it, the less I love it), I was happy happy happy to return. Also, both a cousin of my wife's as well as L.G.'s little sister E.C. attend the school, so it's a pleasure going.

I walked in the door, signed in, and received my teaching assignment for the day. The first block was a doozy... the behaviour room. (Insert ghoulish, suspense creating music here). When a TOC gets the call for this sort of assignment, the system never tells you there are blocks relating to the behaviour room because most TOC's run and hide. But, being my luck (I just did a day in the behaviour room at the middle school across the street just a short 2 weeks ago), I was off to "The Cube". "Luckily", they were pretty well staffed and, smelling the fear on me, directed me to the ESL room to help out students with various English and SS projects. So, it turned out to be a decent morning. HOWEVER, I was dreading the afternoon because when I looked at the sheet, I froze and maybe puked a bit... just a bit...

I was called in for a MATH teacher! In a HIGH SCHOOL! Now, for those of you who don't know me, I haven't taken a math course in about 7-8 years... since senior year in high school. I avoided it like the plague in Uni, and although I'm fairly proficient in practical mathematics, I wasn't so sure about senior high currculum. I guess it was lucky for me because it was an "Essentials" class, meaning that it was students who either didn't pass the regular class or were behaviourally incapable of sitting down to do two hours of challenging math curriculum. I say "lucky" because the material was easy enough. The kids were definitely a challenge, but I could at least get through the material. Just like 3 hours of middle school Halloween dancing on Wednesday, I survived. And I made a note pointing to the fact that I was highly untrained in the Mathematics field and that he should change what his call-out subject area is on the District system.

So, these have been my adventures.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm reading a few books right now. One is Fury by Salman Rushdie... I've taken a bit of a hiatus from this one, since it's pretty dense, though getting better every chapter. The newest one, though, which I purchased at Chapters just a few weeks ago, is Margaret Atwood's Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing. Again, for those of you who don't know me, I'm a HUGE lit (particularly Canadian lit) geek, so this is quite thrilling for me. So I thought I'd share a gem with you that I read while waiting for K to get done work. She talks about growing up in rural Quebec and being a bit of an alien to regular school kids who were socialized by pop culture and raised with TV, and although I'm not giving the quote nearly the significance it deserves, here it is...

"It took a long time for me to figure out that the youngest in a family of dragons is still a dragon from the point of view of those who find dragons alarming".

Over the last year, she's definitely become one of my favorites. The Handmaid's Tale and The Tent are great books that I suggest wholeheartedly. Sorry, mom, you probably won't like either. They're both kinda weird. :)

But tomorrow's another posting day, so tomorrow I shall return. Until the morn...

T

NaBloPoMo begins... do I have the stamina?

Since my good friend L.G. is doing it, I'll try. I'm almost positive that I won't have the dedication or endurance, but I figure, hey, why the hell not give a try. The point is to publish a post every day of the month to encourage online writing and that creative (or, often in my case, less-than-creative) spark. Warning: I'll be talking a great deal about my banal life over the next month, so get used to skimming... it's the only thing that my two readers will be able to handle.

So.

Being a substitute teacher could be an interesting experiment in sociology. In a way, it's exciting. There are always new kids and new lessons and new schools to fit into and get to know and work your way through. Since I'm trained in secondary schools, I'm typically teaching grades 10-12, but more recently I've been getting some days in the middle grades too (7-9).

As a young teacher, you hear a lot of talk from other teachers. Some of this talk is about the weekend, or about various co-curricular activities, or workplace politics, or horror stories about the profession, and so on and so forth ad nauseum. As a teacher-on-call, you enter this very exclusive workplace environment where you may not know a single teacher, student, or administrator. So, you tend to find yourself in a sort of "fly on the wall" in a place where everyone knows everyone else, and like the "Mean Girls" lunchroom, the various groups or adult cliques rant on about this and that.

Also, as a new and young teacher, you hear stories about the various district schools from the teachers of the school that you're in. "Oh, I taught over there for twleve years, and I absolutely loved it", could be something you hear. It might be, "My, how things have changed... when I was there in '92..." But often, the same general and highly personal perspectives are voiced, whether positive or negative. However, there are always the notorious schools that get a bad rap for any number of reasons. The school dreaded by TOC's. The school that many TOC's avoid going back to. I was called into said notorious school yesterday.

I got the call on Tuesday night around 8pm. It came up as a half-day, and the name of the school was mentioned. I was called in for the afternoon (generally, the worst time to show up due to kids getting tired and cranky and getting ready to go home). Looking at the calendar, I knew what I'd see: October 31st. Halloween. I'd be facing a school of nearly 900 hooligans ranging in age from 12-15, high as kites on Halloween candy, dressed up as ghouls and goblins and falsely-advertised princesses, and I'd have to try to teach them Social Studies. Now, for those of you who don't teach or who have limited Middle-School experience, these factors add up to a deeply-ingrained sense of dread. I was not looking forward to it. And I didn't barely sleep because of it. I guess I was really worried that some little ghoul would huck a sucker at me and I'd be kidnapped by a gang of sugar-high goons when I tried to talk about the Renaissance.

Strangely enough (or, in all reality, not that strangely), it was all for naught. Before heading into the school, I looked on the school's internet communications board (visible by all the school's teachers and any substitutes who may get a call for the school), and realized that the afternoon was dedicated to celebrating All Hallow's Eve with a dance and movies. BIG sigh of relief. My job was simple: prevent people from leaving the school and stop any attempts by students to crowd-surf, get naked, or drink anything beside water, juice and pop. And so, I did just that and survived in tact. And, to my surprise, the kids were actually really good (other than the presence of far too much pushing, shoving, and body-checking and not enough deodorant for sweaty 13 year old boys). So good, in fact, that I wouldn't even mind going back. Sure, I was exhausted after only about 3 hours of work. But, I survived. And that's what matters.

After that adventure in exhaustion, I was able to go home, relax, and then meet my volleyball team for our league night. Today was a new adventure too, but maybe to save some of my wind, I'll write about it tomorrow. Happy All Saints Day!

T

Blustery days...

I feel like I've been zapped back to a fallish day in southern Alberta. Only, there are more trees.

Wind is blowing outside my window, making memories of the red and orange and golden yellow leaves that cling hopelessly to tree branches throughout the parks and front yards of town. Clouds have been hanging over the city for a few days now... they make their way through the valley, but on some days, there's an infinite supply of cumulonimbus waiting to stretch out over our lovely city. Rotting foliage litters the streets, and rather than using my car's windshield wipers to remove rain, I use them to scatter the leaves that cover my car from time to time. Ironically enough, as I'm typing, rain is painting the windowpanes just beyond my desk, and the birds that were on my deck just a few moments ago have fled for coverage to the trees that will protect them more effectively against the watery onslaught.

Even worse, now, is that the rain has turned to a sort of strange snow-hail mixture, and the flakes are desperately trying to survive their encounter with the asphalt of the parking lot. Goodbye summer...

I have the day off, and I'm slightly bored. I know there are probably things that I could be doing, but I'm having a bit of a hard time getting to them. I could be putting together short story units in case I get a job. I could be organizing my eight million binders and folders from my practicum last year (that still reside in my office closet, untouched.... well, other than to be moved to get at luggage). I could be returning our late videos to the video store or reading or something. But, I choose to be a lump in front of the TV and computer for the timebeing. The idea of a nap lingers nearby... maybe this afternoon. Maybe I should surprise K with flowers at work when I meet her for lunch. Maybe.

I find that when I'm really busy, that I find time to do things that I neglect when I have an endless number of free time. I'm also usually more tired when it comes to having days off... I need to plan in order to get stuff done.

Okay, enough of this mindless droning... I think I'm just trying to fill space since, other than this week's postings, I've been neglecting this less-than-artistic outlet for rants and other such musings. And I just hate the fact that I'm not working today. Bah... working on call and not getting a call is not fun. I guess it's in my power to change that, so, off I go. Until again...

T

The common sense approach to fitness...

I find that the idea of a common-sense approach to getting fit is strangely absent among much of the population. Magazines offer quick fixes to blast gut fat and make your ass go from jiggly to just plain tight. All of this in only 8, 5, 2 minutes a day while still eating anything that you want. I just have to shake my head at this whole notion.

The human body, although infinitely complex in many aspects, can also be seen as a relatively simple input/output machine. To maintain a steady weight, what gets put in must be removed (in one manner or another). It's like balancing a ledger... what goes in on one side must be balanced on the other side. In all reality, the same goes with diet and exercise. What you put into your body must exit in caloric consumption (and, of course, the bowel movement). Sure, we burn calories just breathing, and things like sleeping will get rid of a few grams of carbs, but ultimately, if you want to see a drop on the scale, your physical output has to outweigh your intake.

The reason I'm blabbing about this is simply out of sheer annoyance. I hate watching commercials and seeing ads that try to sell wonderland treatments and cures for having too much junk in the trunk. Granted, these companies do include fine print and the quickly rambled associated facts about the realities of "these results not typical", which go largely ignored. Have you ever noticed how these "guarantees" always add in, "With a balanced diet and regular exercise" but is usually said so quickly that you barely catch it (or is in print so small that it's barely readable)? Advertisers try to get the audience to ignore these facts because they know that people only hear what they want to. "What? I can get a 6-pack just by taking a handful of ephedrine tablets? Quoi? I can get a Jennifer Aniston quality heiney just by sitting at my desk? WOW! I'll take a year's supply, please!" Ummm... no. If you work out like a banshee, stop eating chili dogs and hit the gym 6 times a week with a trainer, it might happen. But these things do not just manifest themselves in some sort of divine fashion. Sorry, but it's just a whole lot of rubbish.

Also, people are also really apt to believe that things like ephedrine and Red Bull and other energy drinks are a great thing to have at the gym. They don't realize that there's a tonne of stress placed upon the heart when doing intense activities with a truckload of caffeine and taurine and sugar and other associated uppers pumping through your system. Water is good... caffeine is bad. Caffeine dehydrates you, it's highly addictive, and is hard on your body. However, every time I'm at a gym, I see muscleheads lifting weights who barely let go of their energy drink to do another 5 reps. Every trainer or coach I've met with nutrition knowledge says the same thing... get rid of the caffeine and increase the water. Dehydration slows metabolism and prevents the body from processing food at an optimum level. Caffeine is a diuretic. So is alcohol. A large coke for a hangover is quite possibly the worst thing you can drink, even if it does help you feel better. It's also brutal for the gym. Have some of Bobby Boucher's high quality H20.

Finally, the last of my rant... I think some people constantly trick themselves into believing they eat better than they do. Don't get me wrong... I don't have the best eating habits from time to time. I eat fast food more often than I should, and I love a Timmy Ho's coffee with cream and sugar as much (or, quite possibly, even more) than the next guy. But I know it's crap for me. I just try to balance it out, that's all. I've actually heard people honestly trying to believe that "Pizza isn't THAT bad for me! Look, it has tomato sauce! And green peppers! Those are both vegetables and they're good for you." Okay, sure thing. That pound of cheese and pepperoni is really good for burning calories. Riiiiiight. Vegetables are good. Protein is good... if you have too much, the body simply gets rid of it. Carbs and sugar, on the other hand, are kept by the body and, if unused, are turned into fat. I love my carbs, and I think that low-carb and no-carb diets can also be brutally hard on your body, but they need to be moderated. Eating a whole box of KD for lunch? Not a good idea. You might as well go enjoy a Big Mac meal and, while you're at it, Supersize it.

Okay, enough of my preaching and proselytizing. I know I'm not a guru on personal health and fitness, and I'm not a dietician. I just think that people need a bit more common sense when it comes to this obsession with weight and personal health and the pursuit of a sleeker build and bulging biceps. Ask a licensed trainer or dietician about these things... don't rely on fads that come and go. Eat more whole grains, drink more water, and exercise regularly. It's pretty basic. Vegetables, good. Water, good. Doughnuts, energy drinks, and buckets of pizza, bad.

-T

Hypochondriacs and the cult of pharmacology...

Over the past few months, I've done my best to get back in shape. I've never experienced obesity and, although my cadio-vascular system was shocked by actually doing more exercise than a single trip up a flight stairs, I've managed quite easily to get back in a rhythm of regular workouts and reasonable eating habits.

The one thing that seems to go along with the pursuit of physical fitness and personal health is one's interest in metabolism, carb-counting, protein shakes, doping scandals and celebrity weight-loss stories that seem to maintain a grip on magazine covers and reality TV shows. My wife has picked up a few of these magazines (not only celebrity gossip, but more respectable fitness magazines as well), and after looking through them and watching (too much) TV, I've noticed a sort of cult mentality developing.

You pick up a copy of fitness magazines which promise butt-busting exercises which will change your life, or non-crunch ab workouts that guaratee results. However, beyond these fairy tale ideas of how to fix one's body, there are drug ads. Not just one two, but mounds of them. Full page spreads with attractive people suffering from any list of 8 million exotic dysfunctions, all which have a new cure coming in the form of a name-brand drug. "Next time you see your doctor, ask him if our new drug is right for you". A hypocondriac's blissful dream! "Maybe THAT'S what's wrong with me!". Sure, they're up front with the side effects (some which are FAR worse than the actual condition being cleared up by said drug), but some of them are getting much sneakier. As I was ignoring the show that was on last night, a drug commercial came on for some earth-shattering new drug to help something. As always, some pretty, healthy person was featured, obviously relieved of some sort of major anomalous disease, and there was a beautiful natural background involved that made all viewers feel warm and fuzzy. Pretty typical, right? Well, up to this point, yes. Until the end of the commercial came. There was definitely some SUPER-fine print on the bottom of the screen, and in the last 5-6 seconds, there was definitely some disclaimer provided verbally that was about 20 notches UNDER the regular level of volume. It was like it was whispering! It's bad enough that they ramble through the side effects and disclaimers on a typical ad. Now, they're trying to disguise it even more by killing the volume so only those with supersonic hearing can listen in to the, "It may cause sudden death if you take this purple pill" thing.

Beyond the fact that this annoys me, I hate the fact that nearly every single one of these drugs has someone telling the audience that they should "ask their doctor" if it is right for you. How many hours of doctor-patient discussions are wasted with regular conversations about some guy who thinks that he might have irritable bowel syndrome because he drank 4 pitchers of beer the previous night at the pub? Is this not instituting a cult of pharmacology that actually inspires people to develop hypochondria?

I'll admit that I know very little about the causes of such anxiety disorders. I've never battled them and don't actually know anyone suffering from such diseases. Still, it makes me uneasy to think that people would actually pursue these drugs for what ails them. It's widely known that North Americans rely far too much on medication (particularly pain meds and antibiotics) to get rid of things that could be solved in much easier ways. And obviously, since we live in a capitalistic society, I probably shouldn't find it strange that pharmaceutical companies engage in a dialogue that plays into typical fears of being unhealthy and unhappy and unloved and that, since there's a cure for anything, that they should pursue it until they're blue in the face (there's a cure for this too... it's called breathing). But it strikes a nerve... I guess a moral one to be more specific. How can they justify such advertising? It drives me looney.

Okay, enough ranting for the day. I'll leave it at that. I'll probably post something related in my hatred of the use of energy drinks at the gym and the total lack of common-sense that is absent in dieting and the other, related, cult of the skinny and fabulous. That's another talk for another day (or maybe later tonight... but I think the Biggest Loser is playing, so we'll have to see).

T

Seasons

The leaves are starting to slowly change... burnt yellow, copper, maroon... wilting away from their various shades of green. The clouds roll in more frequently now, as the season attempts to send telepathic messages of change and transition. I've started to smell it in the air, along with the rain and the crisp cold of a blossoming Autumn. The air even tastes different, as if it made up it's mind to leave the sunny days of June behind. It came up quickly this year... August was moderately miserable, so by the time September tried to bring some sunshine for a few last days at the beach, Fall had come up and taken them away.

Of course work has been on my mind, but so has squash soup, and red wine, and quiet nights at coffee shops, and snowy walks in Waterton. Fall and winter are my times of solace, where I often retreat a bit within myself and reflect. I still remember countless nights I spent in Victoria doing exactly that... book and pend and paper in hand, taking in the sight of snow/rain slowly falling outside while I tried to enjoy time to myself, or with close friends talking about, well, anything that came to mind. Quiet nights.

I've been doing my best to keep busy with work, which has been extremely fruitful thus far. I try to keep myself in check and not get too excited, but I've been extremely lucky so far, so I'm just trying to enjoy the experience while I can. There are still some potential options for contracts that I'm hoping will come up, but for now, I'm just trying to content myself with being busy as a TOC.

I have also been enjoying this years attempt at getting into shape... I'm still going to the gym regularly, trying to hit the treadmill as often as possible. I may even run in the annual Thanksgiving 10k that takes place here in town every year. It's a pretty big deal, so I'm not sure that I'm ready for it, but I'm going to try to talk myself into it regardless. Other more ambitious runners will be taking on the 1/2 and full marathons... for me, though, I'm not going to challenge fate and overdo it. An hour of straight running should be plenty for me. I'll try to update more soon.

Well, for those who are still reading, thanks for stopping by... I hope you're all doing well and keeping out of trouble. Until again...

T

September and other such nonsense

My productivity has come to a standstill for many of the past few days. I'm officially an employee of my school district again, but I haven't worked since the first week. However, not all hope is lost... I'm supposed to cover for 3 days this week at a nearby highschool, and I was requested for sub work by two department heads at two other schools for next week. So, I guess I should feel a bit better about my minute space in the cosmos.

In all reality, I haven't been completely unproductive... I'm almost through reading my most recent novel, "Eleanor Rigby" by Douglas Coupland, which I'm thoroughly enjoying. For any of you Douglas Coupland fans (EVERYONE should be a fan), it's highly enjoyable... probably my second or third favorite with "Hey Nostradamus", "Life After God" and "Generation X". I think I'm going to have to hit up something a little more dense after this... maybe "Fahrenheit 451" or "All Quiet on the Western Front", two books on our district reading list that I should probably read before I'm forced to teach it. I suggest this as a strategy for anyone in the teaching profession... read your materials before trying to teach them!

Also, I've spent a great deal of productive energy on compiling my favorite 90's rock tunes, of which I now have three, yes THREE, volumes. Below, I'll place my discography. I tried to make them varied, but they really do represent the best of 90's Alternative Rock with a little grunge and some more pop stuff to compliment the mix. Since I was a huge fan of a lot of the mainstream Canadian rock bands of this era, many of my favorites have made the list.

In doing this compiling, I've definitely established myself as one of those people who will always love the music of his time... like my more aged counterparts who lived their teenaged years in the 80's and wholly embrace the likes of KISS and AC/DC and Guns & Roses, I have clamped tightly on the Stone Temple Pilots and I Mother Earth and Pearl Jam and Seven Mary Three. My dad still listens to Deep Purple when he can, and I know my mom loves to tap her feet to some classic country as well as some secret hippy tunes that I may reveal at a later date. It must be innate biological programming... what other explanation do we have? Sure, we're products of our DNA, but we are equally products of our environment. And my environment featured Nirvana and the Crash Test Dummies.

Other than battling feelings of hopelessness when looking at my job prospects, I've been keeping up with the fitness routines that we established over the summer with our Bootcamp classes we attended for July/August. Although the strength training has largely gone the way of the dogs, K and I now have gym memberships (which we have actually been USING), and just yesterday we ran in the Terry Fox run. I did a 6km circuit in about 35 minutes, which I was pretty happy with overall, and I'm hoping that if I can keep it up, I'll be running in some 10km road races next spring. That's a long way away, I know, but ya gotta have goals, right?

Finally, the smell of autumn is starting to fill my nostrils as of late. The upcoming scent of rotting foliage should be unavoidable in the weeks to come as the temperature dips down to near-freezing at night. Although we've had some nice days, today was not supposed to break 20 degrees, and after a summer of 30 degree-plus weather, 19 feels pretty chilly. But, it's a beautiful chill here... the trees are starting to change, there's an abundance of squashes at the market waiting to be made into soup, and Thanksgiving is approaching, which means I need to ready myself for turkey leftovers for months to follow. Ahh... sacrifices. Until then, I just need to keep begging for work and hope that K doesn't totally lose her mind over the fact that for now, my paycheques might be a bit, well, all over the place.

Now, without delays, here are the playlists that I've so lovingly created...

Best of the 90's - Rock, Volume 1:
1) If I Had My Way - Big Sugar
2) That Song - Big Wreck
3) Shine - Collective Soul
4) One - Creed
5) Bones and Joints - Finger 11
6) Monkey Wrench - Foo Fighters
7) Shimmer - Fuel
8) Used to Be Alright - I Mother Earth
9) Load Me Up - Matthew Good Band
10) Resurrection - Moist
11) Naveed - Our Lady Peace
12) Creep - Radiohead
13) Cumbersome - Seven Mary Three
14) Ana's Song - Silverchair
15) Spoonman - Soundgarden
16) Interstate Love Song - Stone Temple Pilots
17) Little Bones - The Tragically Hip

Best of the 90's - Rock, Volume 2:
1) All Hell for a Basement - Big Sugar
2) Anthem for the Year 2000 - Silverchair
3) Awake and Dreaming - Finger 11
4) Basketcase - Green Day
5) Bittersweet - Fuel
6) Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden
7) Blow at High Dough - The Tragically Hip
8) Cocaine - Black Crowes
9) December - Collective Soul
10) Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins
11) Evenflow - Pearl Jam
12) Everlong - Foo Fighters
13) Everything Zen - Bush
14) Headstrong - Seven Mary Three
15) In Bloom - Nirvana
16) Raspberry - I Mother Earth
17) Tangerine - Moist
18) The Dolphins Cry - Live

Best of the 90's - Rock, Volume 3:
1) Better Man - Pearl Jam
2) Money City Maniacs - Sloan
3) Open Up Your Eyes - Tonic
4) Courage - The Tragically Hip
5) My Life is a Stereo - The Watchmen
6) Buddy Holly - Weezer
7) Midnight Rain - Wide Mouth Mason
8) Clumsy - Our Lady Peace
9) Gasoline - Moist
10) Selling the Drama - Live
11) One More Astronaut - I Mother Earth
12) When I Come Around - Green Day
13) Slide - Goo Goo Dolls
14) Counting Blue Cars - Dishwalla
15) Superman Song - Crash Test Dummies
16) Mr. Jones - Counting Crows
17) Come Down - Bush
18) No Rain - Blind Melon
19) Good - Better Than Ezra

Enjoy!

T

Touching words...

Since I started writing on here, I've been following a few blogs that I have listed in my links section. Although her writing has been sporadic because of the chaos in Iraq, "Riverbend" (as she is known) was writing about finally leaving Baghdad. She wrote this, and I thought the sentiment was particularly touching. We forget that in our anaesthetized world much exists beyond our borders, and it's seems so rare that we actually think about things that exist outside our worldview. If you want to read more, go here.

"I cried as we left- in spite of promises not to. The aunt cried… the uncle cried. My parents tried to be stoic but there were tears in their voices as they said their goodbyes. The worst part is saying goodbye and wondering if you’re ever going to see these people again. My uncle tightened the shawl I’d thrown over my hair and advised me firmly to ‘keep it on until you get to the border’. The aunt rushed out behind us as the car pulled out of the garage and dumped a bowl of water on the ground, which is a tradition- its to wish the travelers a safe return… eventually."

- T

Great-Grandpa's dedication

I was asked by my grandparents to do a dedication from our side of the family at Great-Granpa's memorial service. I was happy to oblige, and had actually considered asking if I could get up and say something. I meant to post this along with the previous post, but the paper was under a pile of laundry in my room. This is what I came up with... my apologies for being repetitive...

"Since hearing about my great-grandfather's passing, I've been filled with mixed feelings. Obviously, sadness has been one of those emotions that have come and gone in waves. Surprisingly, though, laughter has probably consumed my thoughts and emotions more than anything else. This may seem like a bit of a strange response on the surface, but every time I think about my great-grandpa, I think of all the jokes he used to tell me, and I also think about his incredible spirit. Only a few weeks ago when my wife and I met my uncle K. and my parents at the care home, he was talking about hosting the party house in the building. Then, I would think about his, let's call it "creative" wardrobe. Throughout my life, he always struck me as an entertaining and energetic soul, and these thoughts have outweighed anything else by far.

When I heard the news last weekend, pieces of a T.S. Eliot poem popped into my head. The poem discusses the aging of an elderly man who attempts to cope with getting older. One line reads, "I grow old, I grow old, I wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled." Well, we didn't ever know if grandpa's pants were going to be rolled into cuffs or not, but it would be a pretty safe bet that his pants were going to be just a bit too short, and would almost definitely feature some sort of colourful plaid. I still have memories as a kid, seeing him decked out in plaid pants, a plaid sweater, plaid hat, and plaid socks. The only problem with this spectacle was the fact that each garment had a different colour and pattern, making him quite the sight. It's this type of memory that truly speaks to his ability to walk to his own drummer.

Another memory that came to mind was of a phone call great-grandpa made to my mother-in-law about two years ago. My wife and I had just gotten engaged, and after receiving his invitation in the mail, he did not waste time and phoned my mother-in-law to RSVP. After introducing himself on the phone, he was pretty excited to learn that he was the very first person to reserve his seat at the wedding. He was also happy to point out that he was going to be the oldest guy in the building, too. My mother-in-law still remembers the first introduction she had to great-grandpa, and the memory still makes her laugh to this day.

My uncle R. was the one to inform me of great-grandpa's passing, since I've been working with him throughout the summer. He made a comment that has stuck with me since... he pointed out that my grandfather, R.M., has been able to have his father with him for around seventy years. Considering all the tragedy in the world, this makes for a pretty lucky family in my estimation. I've mentioned the fact that I still had a great-grandparent around to some of my teaching colleagues this past year, and countless jaws hit the floor. Rarely are people able to hear about great-grandparents being alive, and I've been lucky enough to have mine around for my whole 25 years. It's difficult for me to dwell on my sadness when I think of these things. Not only has great-grandpa lived a long life, but he has been able to live a particularly full life surrounded by his family. Also, how many people can say they're chartered members of the Elks Golf Club and now golf for free? This is how I'll always remember my great-grandfather, and I can only hope that all the people here will remember him with the same pleasant memories."

- T

Goodbyes

I lost one of the great partiarchs of my family. After 92 years, my great grandfather passed away on August 25th at a hospice in Calgary. Only about two years ago, this slim but spry old guy was golfing nine holes at a course in Calgary where he was a member for over fifty years. A self-made entrepreneur and regular Mr. Fix-It, he definitely lived a full life after growing up during the Great Depression and living through all the problems of the twentieth century. Providing a biography of his life, however, does little to celebrate the man that I knew.

To be honest, I didn't know my great-grandfather well. Our relationship was based on my eavesdropping as a child as the adults sat around the Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner table and talked money, politics, work, golf, and life in general. He used to tell me long-winded stories about times passed, while providing some good laughs and advice as well. Mainly, his forte with us was a host of cheesy jokes which I always found funny. He was a charming soul who didn't always say the right thing... when you're in your eighties and nineties, you lived through a time without the hassles of political correctness and, sometimes, even simple tact. My brother and I both recall being offended at some of his more careless comments, which were quickly forgiven when we considered the source. He'd probably put in his time being polite for the first eight decades he was around.

Since my siblings and I were always pretty active kids who were involved in sports and school, we only really saw him and my great grandmother (who passed away in 2002), when we travelled north to Calgary for major family get-togethers like Christmas. Two things you could always count on: that his pants were just slightly too short, and there would be the presence of plaid when we arrived to visit. I still recall to this day seeing him decked out in a plaid sweater, plaid pants, plaid socks and a plaid hat. The only problem with the outfit was the fact that not a single garment featured the same pattern or colour. It was like a bag of M&M's exploded in his closet, the colours attaching themselves to any tartan pattern they could find.

Some of the more recent memories of my great-grandfather are from about two years ago... after K and I were engaged, we sent out invitations for the wedding the following fall. The same day he received his invitation, he was on the phone to my mother-in-law to RSVP. "Hi there! This is H.M. calling to RSVP for the T.M. and K.I. wedding!" My mother-in-law (V) was surprised at how quickly he was responding... she hadn't even received her invite in the mail. After taking a moment to figure out who exactly he was, he was pretty excited to explain that he'd be the oldest person at the event. V still laughs to this day about it today. He also showed up to the wedding in a light tan plaid suit which featured, of course, pants that were just slightly shorter than they should've been.

At the start of August, K and I went back to Alberta for a family reunion (K's side) before heading south to Montana to see my parents, my sister and her fiance. Before leaving, we had heard that great-grandpa wasn't supposed to make it to the weekend, but luckily, we made it to Calgary and he was still well enough to visit. We went to the home he was living in, and stayed to chat with him for about an hour. A stiff handshake and the exclaimation that he obviously was hosting the party room in the building was more or less the last memory I have of him. I'll always remember the spirit of him in these ways... always cheerful and never ready to just fade away. I was lucky enough to provide a dedication at his memorial service last week, so I'll post that shortly.

The other goodbye I had to make recently was to my dog, Tobi. After about 15 years, she was definitely old and sick and was probably ready to go. She'll be missed.

In memoriam.

- T

Summer slowly slipping...

I guess I needed a vacation. I've been avoiding the internet a bit over the last few months, hence the obvious hiatus. I think I still have one single avid reader that wondered where I'd gone, but otherwise, I don't think many have kept up checking. I'm still alive, more fit than I've ever probably been and more ready for teaching than ever as well. Actually, I'm not exactly ready for it yet, but I'm in the mindset anyways. Job, no. Mindset, yes!

I spent my last days of June madly photocopying as many materials as I could, knowing that the summer and September held a very uncertain future for me. I've planned the whole time to stay put here in K-town, but where I'll get a job (and IF I get a job) beyond subbing is known only unto the gods. I said goodbye to the many friends I made at my sponsor school, and bade farewell to any straggling students writing exams that I may never see again. Sure, it's a small town, but these are the first kids I've ever taught, and I really want to know what's going to happen with all of them. I miss it already.

Since the end of June, K and I were able to escape very briefly for a weekend camping trip at the start of July and an 8-day jaunt to Alberta and down to Montana just recently before getting back to work. I've been painting for my uncle here in town since the 3rd of July, so that's kept me plenty busy 5-6 days per week. Not only that, but Kerrie and I decided to punish our lazy habits and purchase a month of Cardio-Core Bootcamp. Happily, we survived and have been feeling wonderfully healthy, so instead of just abandoning the muscle gain and the better eating habits, we decided to take ANOTHER month of bootcamp just to see if we could go above and beyond in the fitness category. This is code for: not feeling like fat potato-chip eating pylons. Anywho, we're still at it and still enjoying it... it comes with a free tan since it is run outside at a park, and I've managed to get over the sheer embarassment of running around in a line of, now, 100% females with an exercise ball in hand along one of the busiest roads in Kelowna at 7pm, and have embraced the fact that you can almost see some muscles in my scrawny arms. I also have some of the nicest calves around! But alas, no six pack. You have to go on a no-beer diet for that one, and I'm sorry but some things are simply sacred.

So, my summer in a nutshell has been work and exercise. Now that it's winding down, I wonder where it's gone, but we did manage to host a number of visitors, spend copious numbers of hours on the weekends at the beach, and we even made it back to the 403 for a visit, a family reunion, and a brief hello to the locals before heading south and then back west to the the most beatiful province in the country. Sorry, but some things are simply true, no matter how you slice them.

If only I could figure out a way to get back to Victoria for a visit... oh well, one day soon. To my one dedicated reader, thanks for checking in on me... more to come at one point or another. Ciao for now.

T

Summer slowly walking...

I moved to a place that is celebrated for it's summer sunlight... mounds of sunlight, buckets of sunlight. There's so much sunlight here in the summer that you should be able to bottle it and sell it wholesale at Wally's World. But alas, this summer has shown just a hint of itself before retreating and hiding behind Spring's unpredictability. Some days are full of cloud and rain. Forecasts have called for thunderstorms. There is still snow capping the mountains outlying the city. And it's nearly July. However, summer still wants to linger slowly into town, waiting oh-so-long to make it's official appearance, even though solstice has come and gone. May was blistering hot and I nearly suffocated in the days of 36 degrees. But May left and took much of the heat with it, and rarely has a week passed without the threat of precipitation. So goes the crazy world of weather, I guess.

In other news, K and I are away for a camping trip this weekend. Yes, we're going to fight the masses of long-weekend campers and head down to Kettle Valley for some Rn'R. We've made some of the vital purchases now, including a camp stove, new portable BBQ, an axe, some cheap pots and dishes, citronella candles and a variety of other such nonsense that will be important once we get to the campground. One day we'll track down some fishing rods and figure out how to catch some trout, but I'll need some tutoring in that area from my pop before that happens. One day, though. On this trip, however, hiking, reading, card playing and vegetating will be the names of the games. And I'm just fine with that.

Finally, it's only three days until the end of the year. I have not yet secured a job for the fall, but in time all good things come. Or so I'm told. The nice thing about the end of the year, though, is the massive amount of food that is consumed and offered and provided around the school. It's almost like Christmas, but without the Toblerones and holly and tacky decorations. In the back of my mind, locations like Costa Rica and Thailand and the Yukon float around as possibilities for employment for the future, but no stones have been set down or carved. It's just a waiting game. With a lot of sitting. And a lot of hoping. And with the image of unpaid bills lingering immediately behind. But that's a thought for another day.

- T

The end of the beginning

It's the end of the year at the school. The smell of carpets being shampooed can be experienced throughout the humanities wing. Lockers are emptied, and abandoned student work is piled up, waiting for recycling. You can smell the stress on some students, the fear of an F (or of missing an A by 1-2%) is looming large in their eyes and they're scared witless.

I've said goodbye. Actually, I couldn't even say goodbye. Since the last posting, I actually received a part-time, 3 week contract at my school which actually took me out of my own classroom and into 2 other classes. For the past 2 weeks, I've been covering a Foods class as well as a different English class, which happens to run at the same time as the one I was teaching before. Needless to say, this has caused a bit of random havoc, and in the confusion, I wasn't even able to say goodbye to my last class of the year (that I actually taught for any length of time).

But tomorrow is officially the last day of classes. The only thing remaining is a bit of marking, some major cleanup, and invigilating some exams while the year wraps up. I also have to borrow and steal any and all resources I can before I leave so when I venture on to new courses and/or new schools, I'll have a much deeper arsenal than I have right now. I've signed some yearbooks, said farewell to a few students, but all in all, I can't even believe that the year is already over. I still have a bit of time, but I'm not sure where I'll be teaching next year or if I'll see a lot of these kids again, so being the sentimental bugger I am, I'm sad to see it drifting away. Guess the only thing I have left to do is really say goodbye and try to forge the resolve to get ready to start fresh somewhere else. "The readiness is all..."

- T

It's hot... damned hot

So, it's midnight and the temperature is still about 24 degrees outside. This means that keeping the windows open to cool my apartment is pretty much a Sysiphian task... uphill all the way. It was 35 degrees earlier today. My apartment is hot. I'm sweaty. And I need to get some sleep tonight. I teach in the morning, but I'm still scorching and I haven't been sleeping much since our heat wave. Hell, I haven't even planned my lesson, but it's going to have to do with it being damned hot. Sure, rain is coming tomorrow, but that doesn't solve the problem of excessive sweatiness tonight. I feel like a damp dish towel which has been crumpled into a ball and recently opened... you know, that kinda damp feeling that you knew should've evaporated hours ago? It's not so much dirty as just unclean. Sticky. Someone may have simply slapped me in the chest (and other areas of my body) with a bag of tepid laundry. Not the cleanest of laundry either. Am I making my point? It's hot. And I don't think Rip Van W. is going to be too generous with his pixie dust tonight. Damn you R. Van Winkle and your hatred of hot climates for pasty prairie folk!

-T

The haunted house

A few weeks ago I was lying in bed, in a light doze after a long day. I had just put down my copy of an Atwood novel and I was trying to get a decent night's sleep before I taught the next morning. About an hour after I had last looked at the alarm, I woke up to see a bright, dancing blue light on the wall of my hallway. Confused and a touch scared, I grabbed my glasses from the night table and took a closer look (I'm damn near blind without my specs). I quickly realized what the strange blue light was... the TV.

There was a problem, though. I distinctly remember turning off the TV, locking the door, and crawling into bed. However, the TV was somehow still on. With the only weapon-like thing nearby me (my keys on the end of a UVic neck-dangly-thing), I slowly crept into the living room, just in case a robber or rapist had crawled in through the patio door and decided to catch some John Stewart before he ravaged my wife and I.

But there was no one and nothing to be found. I looked all over the apartment (which took about 30 seconds), shut off the TV, rechecked the deadbolt, locked the patio door, checked the closets, and crawled back into bed. K was awake this whole time since I nearly gave her a heart attack when I got out of bed, but as I crawled in, she moved in close to me so I could feel her heart beating. We were both snoring in minutes.

So, last night before crawling into bed, I turn off the TV, lock the door, brush my teeth, and get my book out. After reading for about 20 minutes, I turned over to go to sleep.

But AGAIN, I am suddenly startled awake by a dancing blue light on the hallway wall... it was the TV again. So I'm creeped out yet again, this time grabbing my phone and a shoe while slowly making my way through the apartment with the lights on (again, this only took 30 seconds). The door still had the deadbolt on, the patio was still in its previous condition, and there were no rapist-goons hiding anywhere in the place. Remote in hand, I was just about to turn off the TV when I noticed that it was on a different channel than the one I was watching before shutting it off. I had it on Superstation (some mindless movie was helping me unwind), but the TV was on channel 5: CTV. Checking again for rapist-goons, I shook my head as I hit the power button on the remote, returned to bed, and attempted to calm K down before hitting the hay. Both of us found it extremely odd, but assuming it was just static, we decided to just roll over and ignore it.

About an hour later, I woke with a start. Grabbing K's arm out of an impulse, I sat up straight after hearing an extremely loud noise immediately outside my window. "Holy calamity," I thought, "what the hell was that?" K and I both listened carefully... I was trying to figure out if someone was trying to bust into our place. However, I soon realized I was wrong. K thought it was the fan (because the sound was bouncing off the wall into her other ear nearest our fan), but it was disregarded as simply some late-night sprinkler that went off below our window. Why it was going off, I have no idea. But in all reality, the night of restful sleep was ruined. I had to get up to lock the patio door and make sure there were no goons, but I finally got to bed after tossing and turning for, oh, an hour or two.

I don't know what this all means. I guess in my haste to brush off the supernatural in my day to day life, the karmic principle of payback is coming on strong. Why does my TV turn on in the middle of the night? That's anyone's guess. But for now, I guess I'll just have to listen more carefully to the ghosts that love to watch late-night TV.

- T

Do you have 9 minutes?

This is a conspiracy theorist's wet dream. It's terrifying because the premise is factual, but the rest of it is fiction... so far, anyway. But just watch and think about it. Let me know what your response is.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=I_v15VV226s&mode=related&search=

- T

Losing my readership...

There's no doubt in my mind that it was sparse to begin with. Maybe even more than sparse. But to be honest, I've had little lately to talk about. Or write about.

Sure, I understand that if I was a serious and dedicated writer, there would be a plethora of opportunities to write something intriguing about the most banal of circumstances. It's like taking a photograph of some random flowers budding in spring, or of an abandoned, dilapidated gas station in a town that no longer exists. Of course there's inspiration everywhere, but just as with every transition season between school and work, I just lose the ambition to enlighten the world about my tragically intriguing life. Is that hyperbole? Or simple sarcasm?

Regardless, I'm finished coaching for the year (or so I think). My boys went to Nationals and played respectably... we finished tied for 5th in Div. 2 among 16 teams, so not a total loss. We should've medalled, however. My main starting setter was out with a sprained ankle in Game 2 of Day 1. Still, we were able to shuffle people around and we kept winning. The second day proved relatively successful as well, tying for 2nd in our power pool and moved to the Championship side of our division. However, on Sunday night, two of my players were goofing around after lights out and, making a long elaborate story short, one hit his head on the concrete floor, received a mild concussion, and spent the night in the hospital with one of the other coaches. I was going to go, but since I was driving back to the Okanagan from Calgary and the rest of the coaches were on the bus, the head of our club delegated the deed to another coach, and I spent a restless night at the hotel. Did I mention the concussion happened to our best hitter/captain? Probably not... I think that's what's called "building tension". Anyway, we only had 6 healthy players left and after some MAJOR reshuffling, they couldn't pull it together and we lost to a mediocre Alberta team from an even more mediocre Alberta town. But, 5th is still decent.

Otherwise, teaching is still going alright. I've been subbing/TOC'ing a fair amount, and I can't wait to blow all the money from my first paycheque. I need stuff, and in a bad way. Well, not that bad, but I want stuff. I'm greedy from time to time, and this is one of those times. Maybe some clothes. Actually, that's all I need. Easy to please... that's me.

Okay, no more rant. If you're still reading this, good for you. Drop me an email or leave a comment and maybe you can convince me to write a random stories about, I don't know, a coyote and a turtle or something like that. Hope all is well with the few remaining readers, whomever you may be.

- T

Making for a long week...

The halls around the school have returned to some semblance of normal. The tears have drifted away, to be replaced by smiles that come with the beautiful spring weather we've had this past week. I even burned my scalp while supervising a phys-ed class that was in the middle of softball. There's still a lingering sense of quiet in certain respects, but to a fresh pair of eyes, it would seem like business as usual.

Last week proved to be an extremely long 5 days. Friday finally came and went with sombre footsteps as the memorial for our young student was held in town. Many students attended, but few teachers were able to due to the lack of substitute teachers in the district. Still, a few of us were there, including my principal and two or three other teachers. It was sad, frustrating, and a number of other things piled into one. But it was still beautiful, and the students were wonderful. As I always seem to do, I forget that they're simply kids trying to navigate their way through this world.

I also had my district interview this past Monday, which seemed to go extremely well. I was relaxed and, other than saying "absolutely" about a quadrillion times, I made it out unscathed and I'm officially a Teacher-On-Call (TOC). Ultimately, this was expected the whole time, but it means that I'm finally making some money, I'm an employee of my school district now, and I'm no longer simply a student! It's wonderful, and moderately scary, and exciting all at the same time. Still, until that first paycheque comes (which I hope will keep getting bigger and bigger with more TOC days), I'm still broke. Well, K and I are broke together.

I like this feeling that we're finally going to launch ourselves into the middle class. It's been quite some time in the lower ranks of society as a student living off the borrowed money of the governement and various banks/pieces of plastic. And being a TOC is kinda cool too... this past week I covered a softball class, did some portfolio-style interviewing for the grade 12's as they graduate, and I covered a Science 9 class on Friday. Tuesday I'm in during the morning for a English 12 class, so that should be fun, and hopefully the school will find me some more work for the rest of the week so I can help pay the bills.

Okay, enough rambling for now. More to come later...

- T (a.k.a. Mr. M, TOC extraordinaire)

May and the smell of rain

I walked out the side doors of our apartment this morning. The damp air greeted me pleasantly, heavy with the scent of cedars and shrubs that spot the turf beside the parking lot. Last night had felt similar; it was cool but not cold, and although the sky was dark with clouds, the air was still, waiting to shed the weight of water it carried over the valley.

I clicked my MP3 player to the next song, and the soulful voice of Corinne Bailey Rae filled my ears, slowly and fully, like the sound of running a warm bath. My walk resembled any other day, except that it seemed like I could smell every blade of grass in the park that ran parallel to the road I walked to the bus. I glanced up as I often do, checking to see if any mischievous birds had me in their eyesight. Luckily, there were no pigeons. Just a pair of sneakers tied in a knot by the shoelaces that had been tossed up to overhang the telephone and power wires and wrap one around the other. I've always loved pictures of sneakers on a telephone wire.

The rottweiler down the road was still sleeping in his yard, so rather than greeting me with a timid bark, he rolled over as if to ignore any rude intrusions into his dreams of chasing cats or running after postal workers. I was early today to my stop, so I caught an early bus and had to transfer at the university. Although the air was nearly wet with all it's moisture, the benches were dry, meaning I could sit without worrying that my pants were going to be striped with dew. The bus out to the school arrived shortly, and after bidding a congenial hello to the driver who I've seen and talked to numerous times, I sat down to enjoy the rest of my commute and the novel that I've been reading.

As I stepped down from the bus, I was again hit with the spring smell of blooming trees and rain that had not yet fallen. Some people say they hate the grey and rain of the coast, but in spring, it's one of the most enchanting smells on the planet. I was never really bothered by the cloud or rain, unless it was during a cold snap (which, for Victoria, was rare). It was like a blanket to me, old and familiar. I used to walk in the rain when I could, just to be a part of it.

I walked through the doors of the school, again, as usual. They didn't bear the weight that they did on Monday. So up the stairs I went to get back to work. As I was gathering materials for my upcoming poetry unit, I came across a poem called, "Did I Miss Anything", by Tom Wayman, which, after asking that question in the title, goes on to respond in the body of the poem, alternating between answers of "Nothing" and "Everything". It's sarcastic and a little bit harsh, but the last stanza was ironically touching. Given the situation, that is. It reads as follows:

"Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human existence
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been gathered

but it was one place

And you weren't here"

I smiled, although there were tears in my eyes. Last night I had spent some time reading through the news reports of the accident from Sunday, and all the commentary provided by people in the community who were either sending their condolences or were friends of my young student, rallying against reports that he was a loner. I didn't every think that... quiet, yes, but not a loner. Still, he isn't here. The tears have faded to a certain extent, but the heaviness remains.

- T

Anything but a restful night

As per usual, I was at the school about an hour before classes were supposed to begin. Only a few students had arrived, most of them unaware of what happened less than a day ago. I walked from the bus stop, head down, trying not to scuff my shoes as I walked in the front doors. The doors seemed heavier today, as they heaved open with the press of my weight on the handle. I got up the stairs, noticing that my backpack felt much more full than usual, but I knew in the back of my mind it was just because it was today. Monday. Still April, the month of showers... but just barely. It's the last day of the month.

I followed the same routine I always do... up the stairs and into my prep room/office. Bags (two of them) slung off my shoulders and onto the floor by my chaotic work station. I'm not the most tidy guy, but you already knew that. I set up my computer and for a few moments, stared blankly at the screen before hitting the power button. I don't usually just stare, unless I had a restless sleep, but even then, it's limited. This one lasted longer. Again, I knew it was just a side-effect of today.A few emails were checked, others were sent, still others were ignored. I felt okay but a sense of apprehension had been growing inside me all morning. My coffee was sweet and creamy, with the remnants of steam rising from the surface of the liquid. It tasted as it usually did... I love (and need) my morning coffee, but my stomach didn't seem to have the same affection for it. I just hoped the feeling would pass. I caught myself staring at the mug, senselessly avoiding the work that was piled before me. I purposely left it for the weekend, since I knew I was going to be coaching all day Saturday and Sunday. But today it would remain where it was. Dust wouldn't gather for weeks.

I could hear the clicking of footsteps on the floor as someone approached the door. I wanted to guard it, lock it, keep myself inside. Why would I want to see people? I just wanted everyone to leave. Yet, the absurdity of this sentiment collided strongly with the desire to talk to someone, anyone. The feelings did not contradict each other... they strangely agreed. D walked in, asking if I'd received the message from our principal last night. I replied with a nod, but little else. My eyes were fixed on her to see how she was feeling, how she was coping. She's a rock, I thought. Strong, fully ready to cope. I knew this was rubbish, but it was the first response that came into my head nonetheless. I could see some reaction in her, but for my sake she was keeping it together. I couldn't. I thought I got it all out last night, but I didn't. The tears came back, but I knew they were allowed. Today, anyway. Maybe not always, but definitely today.

I had just started to feel better, more together. Then L showed up, noticing that I was obviously upset. Then G, then others. I told the story for those who didn't know. I did my best to get it out. Others shared their stories. But, since it was still a work day, people kept going about their days. After a bit of alone time, I was feeling a bit better. It didn't last

The announcement came over the P.A. I knew about the meeting already, so I went and washed my face so I could meet the rest of the staff downstairs in the main staff room. As I stared into the mirror, I laughed... I'm not the most dashing man when I have eyes full of saline. It was brief laugh, but it was a laugh all the same. After towelling off my face, I made the walk downstairs and down the hall to the staff room. Most people were already there. Some were talking in hushed whispers while others were uncertain what the meeting was about. Our principal walked in with some strangers in tow, and addressed the group. "Sorry to meet you on the Monday morning with this sort of news..." His voice started getting more and more faint, like an echo. Maybe it just seemed that way to me. Still, I knew what was coming. "...the student was killed after being hit by a vehicle on the highway yesterday morning." The man with the crisis intervention team took the floor. I began counting the number of tiles on the floor. The pattern was regular. Predictable. I glanced up periodically to find at least a few pairs of eyes on me. "For those of you who didn't teach or know this student, we're passing around a picture..." It began across the room. The black-and-white travelled from hand to hand, quickly and efficiently, but respectfully at the same time. It came around closer to me... I was leaning on the door frame, as far away from the nucleus of people as possible.

Then I caught a glimpse. It was obviously his school photo... his blond hair was short and simple, and his smile was surprisingly large. I know so many kids who just purse their lips or try to look cool. I remember years when I did the same. But I couldn't take my eyes off the picture. It kept transferring from one set of hands to another, slowly approaching, creeping. I turned sharply when it came to within about five feet. I tried to be subtle when I left, but when you exit a staff meeting in the middle of something like this, subtlety is the last thing you can achieve. I had to get out, if only for a moment. Things just got too big, like an older brother who sits on your chest waiting for you to say uncle or tap out.

Still, people were there. Helping. Hugging. Consoling. I'm not the only one who lost a student today. Why, then, did it feel like it? But the staff were good to me. "You're just a baby", one said affectionately. I think she might have been right.I was at home when I received the news Sunday night. The call came later that night. 10:30'ish. I was on the phone with a friend living in the lower mainland, and we were catching up on all the things that have happened over the past few weeks... coaching, teaching, goofing off, etc. She was excited, since she just landed a contract for the last 2 months of the year at a school she loves and where she did her practicum last year. Then the phone beeped... I saw the name of my principal on the caller ID and instantly got nervous. "Why is he calling on a Sunday night?" I asked myself. Why was he calling at all? I picked up. He apologized for calling late and potentially ruining my Sunday night. Then he gave me the news. I was stunned and didn't really know how to react (or even believe it was real), and before I even realized, I had hung up. After clicking over to my friend, I said I had to go. I hung up again. The tears came uncontrollably. I woke K and told her the news. And I cried some more. She cried with me. Then came the numbness. Later, some sort of sleep arrived, but I was so restless before that happened that I got up for a few hours of TV before trying to get back to bed.

There's a TOC in my class right now. It's one of my other grade 11 classes. I just don't think I could handle it, being there, facing them. Even now, a headache is starting to press on my forehead, not willing to just disappear into a memory. How do you prepare for this? What does teacher training do to get us ready for losing a student? Very little, I know. The rest of the coping is equally as uncertain. I'm not sure if there's ever any preparation you can do. This was one of the school's students. My students. And he's gone. It seems like a definitive statement. But in reality, it's all questions.

- T

Meme/Survey from Cibi (from, uhh.... a long time ago)

This is from months ago, but I thought I'd post it anyway...

Name a movie you have seen more than 10 times.
Ummm... probably The Princess Bride. Speed probably gets on that list too (I was obsessed with it when it first came out... I was young). Dead Poets Society makes the grade as well.

Name a movie you’ve seen multiple times in the theater.
I'm pretty sure I saw Independence Day in the theatres two or three times. Otherwise, it's pretty rare.

Name an actor who would make you more inclined to see a movie.
Kevin Spacey would be my number one. John Cusack and John Malkovitch... and maybe the chubby kid from Superbad. Mark Wahlberg would probably make the list as well. And ever since I've seen The Departed, I'd probably go see a new Alex Baldwin flick because he was absolutely hilarious in it. Then there's some others for different reasons... Halle Berry, Jessica Alba, and maybe a few others. :)

Name an actor who would make you less inclined to see a movie.
These days it would be Ben Stiller... I used to love his movies, but he's hard to watch now. Steven Segal and Jean-Claude Van Damme (too many ridiculous movies that I watched as a kid... I'll watch them if they're old and blatantly cheesey).

Name a movie that you can quote from.
Pardon the language, but one would be, "Fuck you, batteries!" from the movie Once. I can recite huge amounts of Russell Peters' stand-up comedy... a number of Shakespeare movies (due to teaching them)... "Who is Kaiser Soze?" from The Usual Suspects... "My name is Inigo Mantoya... you killed my father... prepare to die" + "'Inconceivable!' 'I do not think that word means what you think it means'" from The Princess Bride. I'm sure there's more.

Name a movie musical from which you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs.
Ummm... this is a sad admittance, but I know a tonne from "Hairspray". When your wife subjects you to tens of hours of the soundtrack on trips to and from Alberta, it's unavoidable.

Name a movie to which you have been known to sing along.
Pretty much any Disney movie.

Name a movie you would recommend everyone see.
Crash, The Usual Suspects, Little Miss Sunshine, The Departed, Superbad, Seven, Dead Poets Society, Once.

Name a movie you own.
I just bought Hoodwinked and Crash.

Name an actor who launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.
I'll go with cibi... Will Smith. And Mark Wahlberg.

Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what?
A bunch on road trips to Montana when I was a kid... some kids movies... maybe Land Before Time?

Ever made out in a movie?
Only once in public... it was awkward.

Name a movie you keep meaning to see but just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
Rent.

The reason I haven't gotten around to it yet is that I can never remember the titles.Ever walked out of a movie?
Yuppers. But only twice.

Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.
I pretty much broke down in Crash when the Latino locksmith was about to get shot and his daughter came running out.

What’s the last movie you saw in the theater?
Umm... don't recall... something sappy, I'm sure.

What’s your favorite/preferred genre of movie?
Drama, action or comedy.

What’s the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Land Before Time 1

What movie do you wish you’d never seen?
I've seen a few bad ones... Cruel Intentions II was probably THE worst.

What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?
Being John Malkovitch. It's messed up.

What is the scariest movie you’ve seen?
I also don't watch Scary Movies, but I also enjoyed The Blair Witch Project (judge if you must).

What is the funniest movie you’ve seen?
Old School is still a favourite, and I like a lot of new cartoons (Shrek, The Incredibles, etc.)

Survival

Well, I'm not the demi-God of teaching. I'm not the future saviour of the profession either. But, the final report was good, and I think I've officially survived and weathered the storm of the Internship. Sure, I have P/T conferences next week (on the same day as my district interview), I still have to receive my final report from 2/3 sponsor teachers, and I have a stack of marking that may reach the ceiling, but officially, I'm done. DONE! Weeeeeeeeeee. I know there's a long way to go, but as of May 4th, I'm an official employee (temporarily) of the district and will be put on the TOC list for the remainder of the year for my remaining days off. It's kindof lovely.

But I can't dwell on that today... my volleyball team is playing in provincials today, so I hope all the work I've done with these 15 year olds has paid off and we light up the gym. Wish me luck! I'm hoping for top 10, but that'll be another update for another day.

- T

Post-script: I need to make sure that I don't take all the credit for my pictures that I posted the other day... I took some of them, but many (most) were actually taken by my lovely wife, K. I forgot to mention that... sorry hun!

Thus begins, the day of judgment...

It's my final evaluation from my university advisor today. In essence, this report will make or break my teaching career. Although I'm not terrified, there is an unavoidable stress that goes along with any evaluation. Particularly one of this magnitude. I guess I just have to wait and see what is to come.

“The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.”
- R. W. Emerson

- T

The finish line and other such nonsense

I'll be completing one of my classes as of tomorrow. TOMORROW! I'm ending a unit with a research project and a unit test, and other than the marking that will accompany said test/project, I'll be done that class. So on Friday, I'll be down to two classes, one each day.

Then, next Thursday I'll be dropping another class, which means that I will only have one class remaining to take care of from that point foward (for the last 6 weeks until exams, so realistically I'll only have approximately 12 classes remaining that I'll be responsible for until the end of the term/exams week). And then the real challenge begins... getting me a job somewhere!

Over the past few days, I've come to realize that in all the stress, anxiety, and pressure I've had to deal with, that I made this choice for a reason. I didn't think I'd be the one to lose sight of it, but I really did. I have always wanted to inspire a love of literature in others, but over the past few weeks/months, I've lost sight of that. I was talking with two of my students last night and I mentioned that I didn't dislike any of the students in the class. Sure, I've disliked their actions from time to time, but not them personally. I've even thought to myself how they act like this or like that (not in a positive way) and how frustrating it can be. But when I take some time to look back on it, I really do enjoy being here. Some of it is ego... I do enjoy being in front of people (I'm surprised I didn't get more involved in theatre), but a good part of it is my sincere enjoyment with these young adults. They're intriguing, they're interesting, they're sometimes unpredictable, they're unruly, they're charming, they're sometimes a walking headache. Still, I see these students in the hallway or in my class or at a tutorial and I think that I'm pretty lucky that I get to experience all of this. Teaching is definitely not for the faint of heart. All jobs have responsibilities, but there's few that assume the responsibility for the lives of 30 minors... and not simply their lives, but their moral, emotional and intellectual development. If that's not overwhelming, I don't know what is.

My goal for these next 8 weeks: to find a kernal of the passion that I had when I walked into this school, and to do my best to understand these people that are forced to look at me for guidance, for leadership, and for development. I sometimes forget what my role is. I can only hope that if I can come to regain an understanding of what the role is supposed to be, than I can do something to win over those who are uninterested and lacking motivation. How? That is TBA...

- T

Macbeth, CSI, and the first days of the rest of my life

Connecting curriculum material to the lives of students is probably one of the greatest strengths a teacher can possess. These days, if they material being taught in a class doesn't directly influence or link to a kids life, it could be very easily forgotten. Sure, this doesn't happen in all cases... for a lot of kids, the fact that it needs to be remembered for a test or quiz or assignment is enough. However, for a huge number of students, they simply don't care too much.

Thus, I am able to talk about one of my addictions: CSI. Shakespeare might as well be Greek for some kids. They couldn't be less interested. It's difficult, time-consuming, often frustrating, and takes place so long before their existence that many simply don't see a point to it at all. However, you spend a good deal of time connecting it to crime dramas that appear on prime time TV, they actually get an idea of what's happening. And really, MAcbeth is a perfect case of a ridiculously thick-skulled criminal who is effected by bouts of random hallucinations and is obsessed with the prophecies that come from a bunch of old, scary, bearded ladies. I don't know about some other people, but he's a big bucket of crazy, and there are lessons to be learned.

Changing gears slightly...

I officially have 10 days of student teaching left before I'm officially done my teaching program. Sure, I have to teach one of my classes to the end of the year, but I'm done 2/3 and can start making some money. Which is lovely. But in these last 2 weeks, I really have to pull out the stops in order to make my one sponsor teacher happy. And that is going to be a difficult task. She's not only uber-intelligent, but she's crazy organized, super-ambitious, and has the big picture structure down pat. I think from the time that she started that she was a natural at all of the above talents, and this whole teaching thing came fairly easy to her. I also have no doubt that even though she has the odd off-day, she's about as committed and focussed as anyone around. She's really like a super-teacher... although she's hard, she does an excellent job. However (of COURSE there had to be a "but")... I'm terrified as to what she's going to write about me. My university advisor and her sat down for over an hour the other day while I was teaching, then neglected to tell me what went on. Also, my visit by my advisor immediately following this wasn't super-wonderful. It was one of those, "You've improved so much at X, Y, and Z this year T! But..." The dreaded "but". For those of you who aren't involved in teaching, this is a killer phrase. In reality, one mediocre teaching report can ruin the chances of getting a teaching position in the district I'm working in (particularly since everyone knows everyone). And although I think I'm competent and relatively well-liked, I'm absolutely terrified of the possibility of receiving a "but" on my teaching report. I've hit more or less every single trait listed on our teaching reports to a reasonable degree, and for this I'm happy. However, this one sponsor may put that dreaded "but" in the area of planning and organization which may hurt me. Even though I probably did more planning that 2-3 interns did together. I have no doubt that others worked as hard or harder than I did, but for one single sponsor, I did more work for her than I did for all my other ones combined.

I definitely struggled with the planning and lesson prep. It hasn't come naturally to me and I still have moments where I get caught up in all the stress and I stop doing the job I know I can. And any friend of mine can tell you I've NEVER been the most organized guy in town. K could tell you this over and over. But over the past 8 months, I've come a long way and I feel like I've improved 10 fold in so many ways. Still, I'm not sure it was good enough for my sponsor. And it seems like no matter what my other sponsors say about me positively, her questions and constant challenges make me feel like I'm totally letting down her and the system as a whole. I don't think this is true, but it still lingers in my mind.

I know I only have 5 more classes with her, and that I've just gotta push through. But when I walked into this program, I thought I'd be a natural at every aspect of teaching. I thought my personality would provide me with a walk on easy street. My, how wrong I was. I'm definitely doing okay, but I do have a ways to go. And teaching is not one of those occupations that you ever totally get down. The kid factor is simply too great to be totally effective. And so I'm finishing these last few weeks with mixed emotions and can't get over the stress that I've been feeling over the past 2-3 weeks. It's like a constant anxiety to do something I'm incapable of doing.

At one point, I think I talked about Diogenes of Sinope who would walk around the Athenian Agora carry a lamp in the middle of the day. When asked what he was doing, he responded by saying that he was searching for an honest man. I really identified with him, and still do. However, over the past few weeks I've identified with another figure of Ancient Greece... a man by the name of Sisyphus. In The Odyssey he is mentioned to have been punished for trickery. His duty was to push or carry a boulder up a steep hill. However, whenever he reached the top, the rock with slip out of his grasp and roll back down the hill. This was his eternal destiny. I feel that sometimes teaching is similar... just when we think we have things under control, that boulder slips, and soon we are at the bottom of the hill trying to figure out how to get that boulder to the top. The one difference is the rewards throughout the journey are ever-present in the eyes of the students we teach. I sometimes forget that I'm not pursuing this career for me... but for the students I'll be teaching. It's hard to keep that in mind sometimes.

- T

Addition from previous post...

a) I forgot to add the picture of the fox cubs and...

b) After doing an image search online, it looks like the fox we saw was a "Silver Fox"... not to be mistaken for the slick silver foxes that prowl through peeler joints and over-25 clubs. This vulpes vulpes is the real deal.

c) Finally, a few more pictures that I'd just like to add...

You know you're in a tourist town when...

A mini-getaway and three weeks remaining

Before Christmas time, I mentioned to K that my most memorable presents/gifts were things like trips or vacations or the things we did around the special occasions that usually involved gift giving. She was always getting disappointed about my reaction to the things she got for me as presents... although I was always excited, I'm pretty hard to get really riled up regarding gifts. So, she took an alternative approach and paid for a night up at Sun Peaks Resort, which we were finally able to take this past weekend.

It's off-season for this ski destination, which is just fine with me. I'm definitely more into the quiet vacations where I don't have to fight crowds and there's no rush to get anything accomplished, and this night away fulfilled exactly that. Not only was it beautiful and refreshing, but it was quiet... we were one of three rooms that were booked between the two buildings at the Pinnacle Lodge, and nearly the whole town is shut down until May Long Weekend when things begin to open again for the summer tourist season. We were able to enjoy the scenery, the quiet, and the outdoor hot tub (which was completely deserted). Needless to say, it was about as enjoyable as a one-night vacation gets. We also got a first hand look some type of fox and it's cubs, which were playing near the roadside and popping in and out of their den. If you can identify the type of fox, let me know because I have no clue what kind it is. The pictures of the pups are blurry... my apologies..

I can't wait to go on another trip... we're hoping a camping trip with some good friends is upcoming at the end of June, so my fingers are crossed. With gifts like this last trip, I think I snagged a pretty good lady.

On a completely unrelated note, I only have three weeks of practicum time left until certification... craziness!

- T

Hate the flaw, love the flaw victim?

I absolutely despise my shortcomings. I think the worst part, however, is the fact that while I'm indulging in these shortcomings, I'm completely unaware of, or completely unwilling to change, said faults. One of these things is talking too much (surprised, anyone?). Another is a terrible sense of time. If I'm not constantly looking at the clock, I'm so completely prone to losing track of time that I'm late for things or I completely underestimate the amount of time it will take me to do something... anything, really. Many of my friends have referred to my world working on what has been dubbed, "T-Time", which differs drastically from Standard Time. If Standard Time dictates that Activity X should take 10 minutes, T-Time will mean it will probably be 15 or 20. If I ever told someone 6:30, they could expect no problems if they arrived at approximately 6:43. If I say I'll meet you in 20 minutes, don't worry if you don't get there for 30. This turns into the obvious issues of always being late and never providing myself enough time to do things.

I'm absolutely certain this was one of the main factors that prevented me from earning my million when I was painting on a piece-work system two years ago. And it also directly impacts my teaching, since teachers have to learn to budget their time extremely well in order to get through the intended lessons and curriculum. When looking long-term, I'm not terrible, but in the short term things are absolutely awful. I'm sure I get this from my mom (since my dad has had to deal with the fact that she's late, or, at least not early, well, ever), since it seems like her genetics have pretty much hit me like a tonne of bricks since I was kid (fair skin, early hair loss, average height, bad joints, propensity to gab, atrocious memory) and they continue to manifest themselves quite regularly. And really, I blame my mom's genes for all the obvious things which she suffers from that I see in myself. I've always wondered how certain sets of genes can so overwhelmingly control the fate of one offspring... not quite like the pea pods and curved thumbs that we studied in high school biology.

The point of this is really to say that, in my slow attempts at getting ready and putting my life in order before heading out the door, I realized I was late and that I was going to miss my bus. Which I did. Which is why I'm stranded here at the University, waiting for the next bus out to my sponsor school. Oh joy, oh bliss. I think I'm just trying to make excuses, because I find that things are easier to accept when you don't have control over them. Maybe not all things, but I've got a pretty large Hakuna Matata attitude, so I find that its pretty easy to deal with. Particularly those things that make you feel like a big moron. Oh well... not much I can do at this point in the game. Thank goodness for silent reading at the start of class.

- T

Do you ever have days...

... that seem like they go on forever? Today is one of them. If only I had some clever quote about being kicked in the teeth with a golf cleat then having the victime smile because they're optimistic. I don't think this makes sense. G' night.

-T

100 posts

I think it should be a celebration!

Okay, maybe that's a bit absurd. If I were to celebrate my own incessant rambling, it would be like celebrating how much I love myself. And, well, that's simply a bit strange. And egocentric. And just ridiculous. So I won't. But this is post #100... weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Now that I'm finished with that, onto other things.

I used to be a voracious reader. I had a strong appetite for a variety of fiction (usually Canadian) and loved spending time at coffee shops on my own just enjoying the fact that I'm alone and I'm okay with that. Needless to say, it's been a long time since I've had a chance to enjoy that sort of time. Between school, work, social and familial committments, there's not a massive amount of T-time left. The odd walk and time on my own either browsing the internet or doing schoolwork is about all I have. Not that it's anything to cry about, but I sometimes miss the days where I could put in my headphones, go for a walk down to the local java hut, and just lose myself for three or four hours eavesdropping on a variety of interesting and not-so-interesting conversations while DMB filled my ears and the smells of chocolate and coffee grounds and toasting sandwiches filled my nostrils, all the while getting lost in the adventures of Timothy Findlay or Douglas Coupland. It's just been a long time since I've been alone.

And it looks like this weekend might be the first time that I have that time. Time to work on my resume, waste time watching crappy TV, drinking coffee at a shop that I've never been to, and just getting my mind together. Sure, it gets a little lonely and I'm a bit of a social butterfly, but I've always been fairly good at being on my own. K might be heading back to visit her family again this weekend since they recently put down a rather large creature of the bovine family which has been turned into a wide variety of choice cuts that are coming to my deep freeze at the most reasonable of prices (and they need to be picked up and brought out here). K wants me to go with her for the drive, but I've been going somewhere and doing something every weekend for the past 3 months, and it might be nice just to have the weekend off. Of everything. Including 16 hours in the car, even though I thoroughly enjoy car rides with my hunny.

So, I guess here's to a year of blogging, 100 rants, and a self-indulgent attempt at immortalizing my less-than-exciting life. I only hope that a little pleasure comes from this from time to time (for my 3 or so readers per day!).

- T