Minimal Ramblings of an Incoherent Mind

Moving Forward

2011-02-28T13:39:00.000-04:00

Things are starting to get a little real around here.

This morning my wife sent me a list of people to contact/call/email/text when she goes into labour and again when she has the baby. Is it really getting to be close to that time? I don't even feel like we're ready for a baby to come into our home yet, there are too many things we wanted to get done first.

The room needs another coat of paint to tone down the overload of colours. I need to buy the dinosaur rug and hide it from the mother-in-law. We need to find a stroller & car seat.

What's going to happen when we finally have the baby and bring it home?

There are too many questions left unanswered, but so much time has to pass until I get to hold her in my arms.

The baby countdown is on.... and I'm gonna start to panic....

Divide by 12. How many hours are left?

2011-02-21T23:24:00.000-04:00

Time is a funny thing.

When you have too much of it, you complain that things are slow.
When you don't have enough of it, you complain that things are too busy.

Has there ever been a point in your life when you've had "just enough" time to do the things you want to do and not feel rushed when doing it?

At Christmas time we run through the mall at a marathoners pace to buy things for people to show them our appreciation for all that they've done. In the summer time we're running through the house to get to the car to bring our children to play outside. We never take the time to enjoy the beauty of the snow and how it crunches under our feet because its too cold outside.

When do we have time for ourselves as grown ups? When do we make time just for us? As adults and (soon-to-be) parents - your time is no longer about you. When you're at work, time is about projects, deadlines and maximizing your caffeine intake for the day. When you're home, time is about homework, chores and playtime.

I think once a day, we should make time. Make time for ourselves. Sit back at 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday and breathe, enjoy the summer air or the cool fall breeze on our face.

Time isn't something that should ever be pushed. You never know how much of your own clock is left.

Zombies in the family

2011-02-16T23:28:00.001-04:00

This is an actual email conversation that was had between myself and my brother a few days ago. It all started when my wife mentioned to him on the phone that the first words to The Big Bang Theory that night were something about Zombies.

And thus it begins:

Brother:
“If zombies don’t eat do they starve to death….?”

Big bang theory

Me:

According to 28 weeks later they do.

Brother:

If a zombie bites a vampire, then what?
If a vampire bites a zombie, then what?

Me:

1. The vampire will turn into a zombie. The living turn to the dead.

2. The vampire will starve to death. Zombies have no blood.

Brother:

1 But a vampire is the dead, the living dead?

Me:

I do believe a vampire is the UNdead. Regardless, a zombie can not be turned into a vampire as they are dead. But a vampire can turn into a zombie since the vampire is UNdead and living.

Brother:

What about a werewolf, if he bites a zombie will it become hairy?

Can a zombie turn a werewolf into a were zombie?

Me:

Zombies only are ever documented attacking humans, since a were wolf in wolf form would not longer be a human, they'd ignore him.

The better question: if a zombie bites a were wolf in human form, on the next full moon --- what does the new werewolf look like?

Brother:

Oooh.

What about a mummy.?
Would it become a zombie if it is already dead?

Me:

Mummy's taste gross, like dried feet. No one would ever bite them.

A mummy is essentially a zombie without the need for brains. Look at how it walks, its a really old zombie. One could say its the first zombie.

All of this started out because I got my brother hooked on the television show The Walking Dead. Since he finished the first season, he read all 81 comics, then read all 7 volumes of the Marvel Zombie series and has cursed me out ever since. I smile everytime he mentions it.

Professional Services

2011-02-09T23:18:00.000-04:00

I've been on a kick for the last few days to get my personal website going again. I've been running a "side business" (I use the term business loosely as I only have a couple of clients and made less than $500 in 2010) for the past few years helping out in some offices and doing some programming.

I'm in the process of launching a new website for a business solution that I put together in partnership with my wife's company. The site was originally targeted for a very niche market, but as I was building the website and putting together the code I realized that it could have a far greater reach and application if it was more generalized.

With that in mind I continued to develop the website so that it could be used out side of this market. The site isn't quite ready for a main launch yet, as I'm still fixing a few internal bugs and I need to get my security certificate ordered by the end of February (that's right, I'm going to be secure, just like that banks with https).

For those who would like to check it out you can see my site here: www.donationsolutions.ca

I'm giving you a special preview of the site and what I have planned for it to get feedback on the look and feel of it. Once the site goes live I would like to approach organizers of fund-raisers such as the Relay for Life to see if they would be interested in this to provide to their participants so that they could reach out to more people and receive donation requests from people far away quicker and easier.

Its a pipe dream right now, but it could be something that I can see taking off one day.

Regardless, this has been what I've been spending these countless hours up late at night programming for the past few months.

I'm pretty excited about it.

Blown gasket

2011-02-07T12:54:00.000-04:00

So, I've just gotten off the telephone with the National Student Loan center to talk to them about re-applying for Repayment Assistance. With a baby coming along the way in a few months paying what we are supposed to be paying for our student loans is a little excessive and ridiculous.

Lets put it in perspective with some numbers. I currently have $65K + in my own student loans. Thats not including what my wife has in her own loans from her schooling.

If you've ever applied for the RA from the national student loan center you know that they ask you about your 'gross' income. I've never understood why they'd waste my time in asking about this. On each of my paychecks there is a difference between net and gross which almost cuts my pay in half of what the 'gross' is.

So, for the next few months we're supposed to pay the full amount for our SL, save for a baby AND pay our monthly bills? Are they stupid? Do they expect me to pull magic money out of my ass for this?

I've never understood the point of these loans, sure they helped me get an education but they're punishing me for trying to further myself along by gaining an education and some work experience before starting a family.

Frankly, I'd almost wish I'd stayed at home to become a fisherman if I had of known that I would have been faced with this bullshit.

Why would they base such an important decision on fictitious money? It never really made sense to me in all honesty.

from my phone

2011-02-03T15:33:00.001-04:00

Blogging from my phone.

Using the new Blogger for Android app put out by Google today. I even installed it using their market.android.com website.

Who's awesome now? This guy.

Unexpected Discoveries

2011-02-02T01:50:00.000-04:00

As I was cleaning out the giant mess of papers in the closet, on the bed, in the dresser, on my desk... everywhere. I came across something unexpected. I found the obituary and program from Chris' memorial service we had back in 2000. Everyone who attended was given a paper with the procession and a note, on the reverse side, from Chris' best-friend in high school who could not attend.

Something I didn't know: he died in October of 2000, which means we just passed the 10 year mark of his passing.

Now that I know the date again, I should do something every year to mark the occasion. I'm thinking that a visit to Grand Manan or a visit to a light house along the coast would be fitting.

In amongst the papers from the service I found a badly hand-written note that I had written the night before the service. I wrote this with every intention of reading at the service.

Reading it now, makes me smile. Filled me with memories of him and the things we did together, made me remember the kind of guy he was and the man he would have grown in to. The world is a different place since he's gone, but his foot prints are still in my soul.

Here it is, in all its terribly written glory (remember: this was written by a 19 year old who wasn't good with words or emotions):

Chris was a great guy who would do anything for a friend. He was the very first person I spoke to when I arrived at university. He told me all about his passion for snowboarding and how much he would miss it that winter. Everyone who was friends with him knew how special he made everyone feel. He had a good time whenever he did anything, no matter where he was. He put 100% into everything he did.

In TE hall a friendship was formed with all 11 guys up there. Everyone had a bond with each other, each bond being strong in its own way. But a friendship with Chris was strong with everyone. He befriended everyone that he talked to, there were not many people who didn't enjoy his company.

I could talk to Chris about anything and not worry about negative criticism, he was a great listener but he was an even better friend. He was a great friend who did many things for me and I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to meet your son and have him touch my life in that way.

He will be missed greatly, but his will, courage and strength will live in our memories forever. I know he was a fighter and never gave up. I will never, ever forget Chris or all the great things he has done for me.

I miss him so much right now, and I will miss him more with passing day, but I will be strong just like him.

Dad's condition

2011-01-29T22:56:00.005-04:00

Taken most of this post from an email to a family member, its been changed and updated

Things with dad have been going well, took him out for a walk the other day. The last two days he's been to the bank with M and then today he follow J (the landlord) around the house for a few hours as they fixed some drafts and mouse holes and then they started looking at fixing the faucet in the kitchen. J was there from 2pm until about 630. Which meant dad was on his feet for the entire time.

Gave M the hours for the Aqua Size/Fitness class for the pool. She's very interested in going to it with dad since he's allowed to swim. He's not sure about it, he needs to get his own clearance from Dr first. My brother also gave him the skating schedule as well, he's not as keen on that with his back and lack of good balance, that might be something for next year.

M was talking last night about going to get their bikes from the trailer in Newfoundland and having them in Cape Breton for the summer, so that they can get some use out of them. They don't want to spend a lot of time in Newfoundland either to keep him away from the drinking over there while he's still so tempted.

Speaking of tempted, he asked M for a glass of wine with supper the other night, she gave him a wine glass with water and ice in it.

He had a hard time remembering my nephew's name last night and the fact that it was his mom who was pregnant after he first asked us when we got there. Though, he knew one of them was.

Overall his brain functions have been similar to what they've been for the last couple of years, always stumbling for words to finish his sentences and coming up with names is a little tricky for him most days. This is probably something thats always going to give him trouble since its been on going for so long, probably some short term memory loss from the drinking. Gave him a hockey question with my brother the other day and our hint was "his sisters son's name" - he's been calling him by a nickname for so long that it took him almost 30 minutes to work it out.

We gave him a hard time tonight about calling the girls and gave M the numbers for both of them and told her anytime after noon tomorrow would be great to call, even if its just to leave a message. This is the same thing K has been fighting with him for the last couple of years. Thats the best we can do about it though, he's an old stubborn man and it takes alot to get through to him. Brought up AA a little, he still wants to get his balance better before thinking of going. I'll probably mention it once a week when I'm talking to him though.

(Back to my sisters, when dad was moving out of the house he had issues with one of my sisters - they had a screaming match one day and he went to work for his 2 weeks. By the time he was done his shift she was in Vancouver without a job or a place to live just to be as far away from his temper. The other sister had a run in with him when he came back to take the computer that "he paid for" which she didn't agree with. My sister got married away so he wouldn't have any input in the wedding and wouldn't even be required to attend. He showed up as per the invitation but brought along his girlfriend without asking anyone or getting permission. He spent most of the week in his room with her drinking, as per usual. Since then they haven't called him or really told him they were pregnant, it was up to my brother and I to fill him in on their lives, babies and new houses. Makes me sad really. There are 3 people in this relationship and all of them are stubborn about things that have happened in the past. They're all just a bunch of Dumbasses.)

Thats all thats been going on, he's been really chatty and chipper with us when we've been visiting with him, which is a nice little change. We took it easy tonight with our last visit and let the dogs run around like crazy for a while.

I am now in complete possession of his wine making kit. His empty bottles, his containers, filters and all his measuring and temperature gauges. I'm at a loss as to what to do with it. Neither my wife or I drink wine, we have no intentions of ever making it. Deep down in the recesses of my heart I want to keep it in hopes that if he ever gets better he could maybe have a glass of wine with his supper, but I know that he can't stop at just one. (Reminds me of old Ruffles commercial.)

I'm just going to recycle it.

Last week

2011-01-29T00:47:00.003-04:00

For the past week, I've been back home essentially babysitting my father. Not anywhere I thought I'd be in the middle of January, but with dad just getting out of the hospital, we thought we needed to come home to be with him.

When dad had his stroke over Christmas, it scared the ever loving shit out of him. There is nothing in the world he wants less than a drink. Though he asked for a glass of wine with supper the other day, but he doesn't consider beer or wine drinking - just rum and vodka. Thats exactly the attitude that got him into the problem he has now.

As we've been spending time with him over the last while, we've learned a few things:

When you're so drunk all the time and do not realize you've had 2 (TWO) strokes already, thats a bad sign.
He refuses to go to AA. When he "has his feet under him" he would go, maybe to help someone else, since he "doesn't have a problem".
My wife got a lesson from my mom on what it was like growing up with my father drinking as often as he did. It was a real eye opener, even for me. (More on this later? probably not, don't need that much detail of my life getting out there.)
The doctor seemingly has no hope in my father's ability to keep his seizures from happening and as such, they've banned him from driving for at least 1 year.
Trying to get the laziest man on the planet out to do some activity outside of his home, is not the easiest thing in the world.
Dad's memory isn't that bad when it comes down to it, he just needs some cues to get it all running again. But having 3 strokes and 3 seizures probably didn't help.

My one accomplishment for the week has been to remove the wine making kit and empty wine bottles from the house. To this point, I'm not really sure what to do with the kit since neither of us drink wine. Thinking of abandoning it on the side of the road by a gas station like they left kids in the 20s and 30s. Bad idea? Probably.

A missed opportunity... or a chance to save a life..?

2011-01-17T23:01:00.003-04:00

This is your only warning. This story is about as hard to read as my last post in my blog, it's not a good story in the slightest. It is nowhere near as hard to tell as the story of Chris but its hard to imagine things turning out the way they did if you weren't there to witness it.

I apologize for all of the sadness that has past and is to come in this blog, there are some stories I've been carrying around for years that need to be told. The stories are hard to write but they get that bit of a weight off my chest as well.

The wife (to keep some anonymity referred to as “the wife”) and I have been happily married for 5 years now as you know and up until she became pregnant we were missing something. The little thunder of a child scampering through the house. It was to the point where the wife wasn't as happy for her pregnant friends as she once was, she'd never admit to it but she was starting to get disappointed that she was left behind all of her friends as they started their families.

Lets set the scene: In September of 2009 we were driving back from a visit to Cape Breton when my wife received a phone call. From a friend and she gets really excited. All I hear from my seat is "Yes. Yes. Yes. Say Yes." And begins texting like a maniac on her phone. A couple of minutes pass without much clarification from her when I ask what the deal was.

"Do you remember the girl I worked with, her name was A (referred to from this point forward as “baby mama” [BM]), she was really loud, obnoxious and I had her fired not that long ago? Well, apparently she's now pregnant from a one night fling and is looking to put up the baby for adoption but wants to give it to a family she can meet and not loose the baby in the system doing it through the government."

Thinking about it for a few minutes I think, being the rational one in our marriage, that we should meet up with her so I can get to know her before actually agreeing to this whole thing. Since we don't know what her family is like or what her medical history is like either. the wife agreed to this, all the while texting BM telling her that we're adopting the baby. (I found this out later, the wife knew we were saying 'Yes', she just had to make me realize that it was my idea.)

As time went on, we got to know her and everything that she has done for the past while. She was the type of person who liked to talk. A lot. It was hard getting her to shut up most of the time now that I think about it. Before she had gotten pregnant she was living with a few friends in an apartment that was too small, drinking most nights after work and generally having a reckless disregard for her well being.

We were there when she lost her job at subway, again. We were with her as she moved out of her apartment, she was 4 months pregnant sleeping on the couch because that was where her bedroom was. And as she was having issues with her parents, where she moved back. Her family was understanding of her desire to put the child up for adoption as she is from a broken home and did not want to be a single mom with no job and no place to live.

We started to bring her to our family doctor for her prenatal visits since she didn't have one. All of the visits to the doctors were usually entertaining since she didn't have an inside voice. I stopped going in after the day she blurted out in the waiting room, "Holy fuck my tits hurt today." With a room full of kids present. I would begin to wait in the car to have a nap as I never really felt connected to the baby, after all, she could have changed her mind at any time.

On the first trip to our doctor, was the first real opportunity that I had to meet DM and get to know her. On the trip there she told me how excited she was make us parents and that this baby was ours and there was nothing that we could do to change it. As soon as she was out of the hospital after giving birth, she was going to the bar to do a couple of shots then enrolling in school to do bartending and photography. That's all she talked about for weeks after. The baby was ours.

Things with BM started to get strained around late November. She would call 5 or 6 times a day to talk to the wife because she couldn't stand to be around her mom and her relationship with her seemed to be getting worse by the day. Her mom, by this point, had started letting her share a bed with her, since she was relegated to the couch again. They had a 3 bedroom house: mom had a room, dad had a room and so did her brother. Her brother owned his own house in Hanwell, but she couldn't sleep in his room.

With all that in mind we began the process of adoption, went to meet with a lawyer and put down our $1000 deposit for their services in completing the adoption when the baby was born. Our lawyer seemed awesome, was really enthusiastic about it as they do not get a chance to do many private adoptions. The only problem: he would not be our lawyer, in 3 weeks he was going on paternal leave for 6 months to be with his own child. Looking back now, I could begin to see the signs.

Once we finished with the lawyer we began to finalize the name for our baby. Since we knew it was going to be a girl, we decided her name was going to be Zoe.

The first of December she started calling at the strangest times. I received a telephone call from her at 5am because she couldn't sleep. Not realizing that other people would be sleeping. It took me 45 minutes to interrupt her enough for me to say anything to get her off the phone.

It was shortly after this that the wife and I began to find ways of not talking with her as often. We were slowly becoming the replacements for her current family and we didn't want her to be our 2nd child. Sadly, the only way we could cut communications was to stop answering the phone when she called. Not the best solution in the world, but it was the only way for our marriage to survive.

We began to talk to our doctor about these things, when we mentioned the 5am phone call the look of terror on her face worried me. She began to explain the problems we were going to have separating BM from our lives after we had the baby. She was concerned that she would become obsessed with us and we would never be able to have a life without her.

We talked to BM about what was going to happen after the baby, about visitation, visits, family, names, etc. She seemed to be accepting of it and started backing off on calling 20x a day.

Shortly before this, the wife was able to get her her job back at Subway as a favour from her best friend and manager. This gave her something to do with her time and got her out of the house.

Little did we know, that this would help us see the issue first hand.

First week of December: BM went to get a mani & pedi from the salon next to Subway. She was there for about 5 hours, she spent a good amount of time in the backroom closet on the phone writing the name of the baby over and over and over again on a piece of paper. the wife and her boss went to collect her from the store around 930 as they were receiving complaints from customers. When they found her she was asleep in the chair after her pedi. They brought her home and had a discussion with her mom about keeping an eye on her because something wasn't clicking. A few days earlier she was screwing up orders and giving away food because she thought she was the assistant manager.

After this, she lost her job again as she started to become unreliable and was no longer doing her job. She began to call us at random hours again, but only a few times a week.

Sometime around the 15th of December (could have been a little later), I answered the phone at 3am and discovered, with no surprise that it was her. She was on the phone for less than 30 seconds.

"I'm cold. And I there's some guy looking at me from the closet." Then she hung up.

Around 4pm in the afternoon. the wife received a phone call on her way home from work. From the hospital. The Psyche Ward.

Around 310am, BM was picked up walking on the New Maryland Highway walking into town. She told the paramedics that she got a 'phonecall' from her grandmother and that she was going to Boom! to go dancing before they went on a vacation together. Her grandmother is in her early 70s. When they found her it was shortly after she called us and the person in the closet was someone in their living room window watching her walk down the road.

I'm not sure if they called an ambulance or not, but when they picked her up she was wearing the following:

Winter boots.
A scarf
A sundress

Did I mention that it was THIRTY DEGREES BELOW ZERO!?

That's what she had been walking to town in. She lives out of town, somewhere near Beaver Dam. Which for those needing a point of reference is about a 20-30 minute drive downtown, so it would be about a 3 hour walk.

The wife rushed over to the hospital and went to the Psyche ward. They had called the wife because it was the only number she would give them and because she kept telling the nurses about the baby we were adopting. When she arrived the wife discovered BM was in isolation, being very despondent and restrained. She could not go in to see her, she could only watch her from a monitor in the control room. She had gotten a little violent when she first arrived. (I picture her that day much like my father the last time I saw him in the hospital). Nothing BM was saying was making any sense according to the doctors.

The pregnancy had caused her hormones to become completely unbalanced causing her to have delusions and visions, which caused her episode. This had been happening for a couple of months according to the doctors at the hospital. She had never mentioned anything to us before that day.

That day was the only day they'd share information with the wife, it was 3 days later before her mother bothered to check up and find out where she was. THREE FUCKING DAYS. How does one go about not wondering where their pregnant single daughter is for THREE FUCKING DAYS!?. In those 3 days, her coworker had called the hospital posing as her mother to get some updates. After a while they stopped giving updates over the phone as well.

She spent the better part of the month in the psyche ward. She was on some pretty heavy meds to get her mental condition back in balance. After talking to the nurse we were told that the mother's health was more important than the baby at this point. After a while she came back around and was a bit more like herself. We went to visit her a few times, spoke to her parents a bit as well. Things in her life began to turn around, her parents began to care about her and spent time with her.

The first part of 2010 we had our first visit with our social worker who would be working with us during the adoptive process. She had gotten the report from BM's social worker who had visited her at home before the incident. We went over that report and a number of things began to stand out at us:

she was diagnosed as bi-polar with a mild case of schizophrenia. Which is hereditary.
she mentioned that her mom and maternal grand mother were as well (truth? We don't know)
she had severe learning disabilities growing up to the point that she had her own TA
she was held back several times in elementary school
she knew nothing about the father of the baby, she only knew his first name and that he was from PEI. So, the father's side of the family was a total mystery.
the adoption couldn't go through until the social workers had found or tried to find the father for a period of 6 months.
she mentioned to us she wanted to find him and sue him for child support for us. (which doesn't work)

All of this compounded on the incident made us decide to walk away from the adoption. She gave birth the end of February and this was the middle of January. Her deal the entire time after we said yes, was that if the baby wasn't ours she was keeping it until we changed our minds. She even told that to her social worker.

When we told her no she was understanding, might have been the meds though.

That day she said something that sticks out in my mind. She said to us: “I'm going to keep the baby then, I've gone through the pregnancy this far knowing the baby is yours. This baby inside of me is meant for you and when you change your mind she'll be right here waiting.”

Summary of everything since:

She got out of the hospital after the baby was born.
Her mother (the grandmother) was made the legal guardian until her mental health returned to normal.
Her mother named the baby Rihanna (yes, her mother named her after the singer.)
BM was not allowed to be alone with the baby for 6 months. If the baby cried she had to have someone else go with her while she picked up the baby.
The day we told her no, her dad brought home a crib.
She's now off of all her medication and is alone with the baby 3 days a week when her mom is at work.

Her life has been turned upside down and thrown sideways through the grinder, and in a way I think its turned out for the best. Having been diagnosed with a mental condition isn't the upside but taking your life around and out of the destructive path it was on is what I keep focusing on. That little girl is loved and is well taken care of.

That about summarized the baby story. The end of the adoption process is a total blur to me so I hope what I wrote makes sense and I didn't leave out any important parts, again.

With the birth of our own baby girl upcoming I was really partial to the name of Chloe, but this was too similar to Zoe and the heart ache was still too fresh in my heart. We have picked another name for our girl, which in no way reminds of the girl that was going to be ours last winter.

We are both really happy that mother and baby are doing well. Before BM had gotten pregnant she had a drinking problem, like to swear, smoke weed and be your typical out of control teenager. This child has taught her a lot about her life and where her priorities are in life. We couldn't be happier to have helped her.

Now that I'm sitting looking back on the entire experience, I never felt like I was a part of the pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I was there for the ultrasound, doctors appointments but I never felt a strong attachment to the baby. Was that just my way of preparing myself incase the worst would have happened?

The Hardest Story To Tell

2011-01-11T01:10:00.003-04:00

12 years ago my life changed. Some would say it built character, I call them liars. Coming up soon is the anniversary of the death of my friend Chris.

I've tried countless times to get this post out, to get it started but every time I do I end up tearing up just thinking about writing it. I'll see if I can go better today.

In the fall of 1997 I started life at University, the single most glorious day of my life. Or so I thought. I arrived at the University late, missed 1/2 a days worth of activities and was the last in the room so I got stuck with the last bed in the room. I'm quite well adaptable so I was able to just deal with it.

On my way down the stairs after unloading the car I run into a guy from the next room. Seriously, I ran into him. Neither one of us were paying any attention at all to what was happening. He begins to show me around the hall and introducing me to some of the guys on the floor. Shortly after it was time for supper and the first evening of frosh week. This is how I met Chris.

He was a tall, and lanky guy from Montreal. He was the clumsiest person in the world since his legs were too long for the rest of his body. He also couldn't speak a lick of French, which being from Montreal confused the hell out of us Maritimers.

He would routinely tell stories from his summer vacations or about his love of snowboarding. The first story he ever told me was the time he wrapped his Volkswagon Golf around a pole while on the way home from a friends, or the time he was skiing on the first run of the winter and broke his ankle and missed the rest of the ski season. Those were the kind of stories you'd hear from him.

That year of University was fantastic, I couldn't of had a better time if I tried. The guys in the hall were great. The parties on campus were great and living in a male wing of a female residence was the best thing a shy guy like me could ever ask for.

When we returned to residence the following fall, there was a new coed residence opening where everyone applied. Chris and my roommate were living directly below me and life was grand. Or so it would seem.

By the time the first set of fall midterms had rolled around, Chris wasn't himself any more. The happy go lucky guy from last year was dispondent and distant when you spoke to him. You had a hard time getting him to smile. Things just weren't the same.

By the time Christmas rolled around Chris was having a horrible time hearing the professors in this classes, he began to tape the lectures to play them later so he could take notes. The year continued on, we had parties, played practical jokes on the cleaning staff. Nothing could be better.

At the end of the year, we all said our goodbyes and moved back home to be with our families and work for a few months until we returned.

When the fall rolled around again, Chris was given his own room in the dorm so that he could study without distraction since he was now having an even harder time hearing. We all figured that it was because he routinely listened to music way too loud on his headphones.

At Thanksgiving he went home to be with his family. And he didn't come back right away. It was about a week later he returned to residence with a smile on his face. We started to see the old Chris come around. The semester rolled on and in the middle of November Chris went home again, this time for the rest of the semester.

A couple of months went by with no word from his family as to what was happening with him, when the Dean of Residence came up to us to give us the news. The Dean was a very close family friend and he had known what was happening for a few weeks now. His father had come down over the weekend and cleaned out Chris' room. He would not be returning this semester.

While he was home at Thanksgiving, he went for some tests and found out that he had an inoperable brain tumor. They didn't get results back until in November when he went home again.

The doctors gave him a few months to live, which according to the Dean was a high estimate.

In February, Chris came to visit. By this time he was in the middle of his Chemotherapy and could no longer walk more than a few steps. The man I had befriended my first day at University was dying.

Regrettably, I did not see Chris when he was in town for a few hours. At the same time I was dealing with the passing of a grandparent the week before and could not bring myself to have that much emotion running though my body.

After speaking with a few people who saw him, Chris no longer recognized anyone he attended school with nor did he remember the layout the residence he lived in for 2 1/2 years. To this day, I still have a hard time coming to terms with my decision not to see him, but I understand everything that I was going through at the time.

In my 31 years on the planet, this is my only regret in life.

Three weeks after his visit to town Chris died in his sleep at home.

His family, realizing the large community of friends he had came to Fredericton with his ashes to have a memorial service at the residence. When the arrived in town they took us out to dinner where they gave us a small urn for us to spread. The Dean of Residence paid for his closest 4 friends to travel to Grand Manan and spend the weekend remembering Chris and everything that he meant to us. Which is what we all needed for some closure.

I will always remember the weekend in the middle of exams when we spread his ashes into the Bay of Fundy on a cold and blustery day in April.

Since University, the 4 of us who were on Grand Manan have since drifted apart and moved all over the world.

Change happens one day at a time

2011-01-05T01:16:00.004-04:00

As you may have heard from Facebook or Twitter, my dad had a stroke.

He had a stroke 15 minutes before I was going to see him over Christmas. This stroke was only a mild stroke, more like a warning than anything else.

What was it a warning of? My father is an alcoholic. A terrible alcoholic. When I found out how much he drank in the run of the day I was in shock. It actually scared me.

As I'm standing next to his girl-friend, listening to her retell the story of the happenings of that morning to the neurologist on-duty, the only thing that I can focus on is the number she used when the doctor asked what he drank that morning. It was only 11am when the stroke happened. What was he doing with that already in his system? Did he get up extra early because he knew we wouldn't let him have a single sip?

When I was 18. I hit the bottle like all young kids going away to university. After my 8th week in school, I began to notice a pattern in myself that I didn't recognize. I couldn't remember the weekends any more. From the moment the first liquid hit my lips on Friday afternoon I had little to no recollection of what happened until Monday afternoon.

I sat in the library one afternoon studying for a test when this occurred to me. At the same time, I started to look back at my childhood and all the pictures I've seen over the years. In each picture and memory, there is something sitting on the table, on the arm of the chair, or curled within the frozen pose of my father's hand. A drink. For 18 years worth of pictures and memories, my father always had a drink in his hand. From the moment he woke up until he went to bed. It appeared to be a never ending flow.

I made a commitment to myself that morning. A commitment to my future that would better ensure my health and future for whatever family I had. I vowed that I wasn't going to pass on the desire/need to drink to my kids.

Lets look at some family history.

4 grand parents.

2 parents.

6 aunts and uncles.

7 of them have problems with alcohol. Almost 60% of my immediate family have alcohol problems.

That is where I draw the line.

"Nights Divided, Happiness is Somewhere"

2010-10-29T22:11:00.004-03:00

This is another one of those narrative prose style stories I keep meaning to write. I sit here, late in the evening on a Friday, laptop in front of me and I wonder....

On the first morning I was awoken from this terrible nightmare of a dream. Nothing in the world seemed close to me. Nothing seemed to matter.

Have I really wasted all of these years? Filling my life with needless wants, needless desires and fake people who care for nothing but themselves? Have I really turned into one of those people? Can I really be sure I am who I say I am?

What if the person I think I should be is just a dream, a dream I had when I was ten years old? How can you be sure that you exist when nothing you touch seems real? Everything that should have texture feels hollow on the inside.

Looking up at the sky, through the glass ceiling in the place I called "home", I begin to imagine if those red clouds really are supposed to be red. Can the world be different than how I'm seeing it now?

My eyes begin to dart around the room, trying to find something I can focus on, something that I can count on the be 'real'. Anything? Does anything seem to exist?

I begin to panic. A sudden realization has come over me, can it really be true? How could I have been living a lie all of these years?

Looking for something to grab onto, something to gain some balance in my life. Running through the hallways, peering into empty room after empty room.

A bead of sweat begins to roll down my forehead, my arms are too heavy to wipe it away. After a minute it begins to follow the contour of my eyebrow and makes contact with my eye.

Instinctively, I try to blink the salt away.

The world seemingly ceased to exist around me, everyone had chosen to move on.

Left alone and standing in the middle of a giant room. The echos of footsteps from a million years ago resound around me.

The walls start to cave in around me, pictures are falling off the wall. LIghts begin to smash on the hard concrete floor in front of my shoeless feet.

The red painted ceiling begins to crack at the edges, sunlight begins to fill the room.

Holding my hand up in front of my face to shield myself. I begin to feel a faint breeze move across the back of my hand.

My eyes begin to adjust to the new world around me, I begin to see shapes and colours I had not seen before. Was the grass always this green? Did the fish really swim in the water?

Directly before me is a road that goes in two directions.

To the left the road is no longer paved, it is twisted and bumpy. But the sun shines off in the distance.

To the right the road is perfectly paved and straight as a pin. Off in the distance a dark cloud hangs over head threating to impede my progress.

Which direction is the one to choose? The easy one on the right? Or the difficult one on the left? Where will my happiness finally take me?

Looking down each road I begin to get confused, which one will lead me to a better life? Which one will make sure that my children will be safe and provided for?

Spinning in a small circle, I begin to run.

Somewhere on the road ahead, a faint bump appears before me. As the days went ahead, the bump never did seem to get closer, the more I ran towards what I thought was my salvation, the further it seemed to move away from me.

That small, insignificant speck in the distance to which I had been running towards all of these years.

The very one that I had almost given up all hope in reaching and turning back to a life of despair.

That bump... that bump was you.

I have this habit of starting a story with the clear intention of making it about something, in this case a life of ruin and desperation. Somewhere along the way the story just grows and evolves, gathers a life of its own and runs away from me. This story is as factual as you'd like to take it, its also been embellish and expanded for the sake of the story. I will not disclose what is true and what isn't, that is for your assumptions.

"Resurrection"

2010-08-05T00:30:00.004-03:00

After some careful consideration, I've decided to give this whole "creative outlet" a go again. I'm not entirely sure what brought this about, but I shall take this and run with it. Lets just see what kind of stream-of-consciousness I can come up with at 1am on a Wednesday.

I have been reading and watching alot of stories about Zombies in the past several months. I figured it was time for my own little take on the entire genre, maybe with a twist?

Resurrection

Its the twelfth of August, and I feel as though I have been awake for months. I have not rested since the accident.

I can no longer remember the last time that I had a meal, especially one that satisfied my appetite. Did I even eat today?

When was the last time that I saw another person? Where was I going when the world ceased to exist around me for those few moments?

The only thing I remember was waking up on the pavement with the world scattered and covered in a sea of pain and misery. Glass and metal surrounded my outstretched body. Was I driving a car?

No one else was there. No one saw what happened. No one can help me.

The longer I walk the more alone I feel. I have been following a path set out before me. A thin grey line is draped across the world and I am destined to follow it.

Day after day I wander, trying to find the end to the line that God has provided for me.

Every day I try to imagine what is at the end of the path. Is it a warm meal? A hug from the woman I love?

Death would be a warm welcome from what I have endured. The countless animals I have attempted to use to survive on my journey.

Ahead of me the woods are changing and appear to be thinning out. The path has taken me to the beginning of a road, a paved road. Have I found salvation? Have I found the end to my journey?

As I cross through the brush, I can feel a change in the air. My sense of urgency has been replaced by caution and excitement.

I find myself concentrating on the sounds around me. I hear nothing.

The wind does not rustle the leaves in the trees, I can no longer feel the warmth of the air as it moves across my skin.

Looking around I begin to notice that the road does not feel as welcoming as I had hoped. There are no painted lines on this road, the houses do not appear to be in the best of shape anymore as if their best years were well behind them.

Across from me a family is out playing in their yard. Little Johnny notices me standing on the side of the road and points towards me. A ball rolls across the lawn in front of him, Johnny has forgotten all about the game of catch he was playing. A child does not easily forget about a game.

I try to force a smile across my dry, tired lips.

The mother looks up to see what little Jimmy is mesmerized about. Her eyes lock onto mine, I can see the look of shocked horror run across her face.

I see the pupils of her eyes dilating. I see the colour rushing towards her cheeks. I can see the muscles in her throat tighten as she is ready to say something.

She opens her mouth.

In the split second before she lets the world know of my presence, I begin to realize that something is not right. I should have not come through the woods. I was not meant to find this place.

Did I wander into a secret government location that no one was ever supposed to find?

My attention focuses back on the mother who shrieks in horror.

As the world around her freezes in reaction to what she has just done, I begin to take notice of what she might be afraid of.

The rest of the family begins to turn their head towards me. Under normal circumstances I would begin to feel shame for causing such a commotion, but today is different. I want them to notice me, I want them to be scared of me. The thrill excites me.

I look down to inspect my appearance before introducing myself to the family. The first thing I noticed was that the left side of my pants was torn from the knee down. And my leg was covered in dry blood.

A rock appears to be embedded in my leg, likely from the accident. Reaching down toward the rock I notice that the shape of it appears to be more uniform than what would be the normal shape of a rock. I run my finger over top of the rock and flick it towards to ground to remove it.

The rock stays firmly planted in my leg without any indication that it will be easily removed. I grasp the rock firmly between my fingers and pull. After I've pulled the rock out more I suddenly realize that it is not what I thought.

I let go and wonder to myself how it was possible for me to walk as long as I did with my shin sticking out through the front of my leg without feeling any pain.

The mother screams again, bringing me back to reality and the situation that I am currently in.

By the time the scream has finished for a second time, the hunger returns.

My nose picks up a delicious aroma coming from their lawn. Coming from their house.

Its been so long since I've eaten that I have no choice but to see if they will offer me food.

I begin to walk across the street. As I get closer, the smell is more attractive, making me crave it even more.

The family is still standing on their lawn as I reach the other side of the road, they are unable to move. Frozen in place by the sheer shock of seeing me approach in my current state.

As I the journey across their lawn, my entire thought process is destroyed by the need to eat.

Little Johnny is still standing behind is ball as I walk by and push him out of my way towards the delicious aroma. I approach the mother, who still has the scream frozen on her face.

I put my hands out in front of me, to which I will notice later are missing fingers and are horribly discoloured.

Wrapping my fingers around her shoulders was enough of a signal to awaken her from her daze and begin struggling. But by then it is too late.

My face is already buried in her neck feeling the warmth of her body against me as I taste her flesh for the first time.

Now that I've written that it seems to be darker than I had originally intended. Then again, its hard to write a happy Zombie story. When was the last time that a story was told from the point of view of a Zombie?

Polaris Music Prize

2009-09-22T13:36:00.001-03:00

There is a music prize in canada called the Polaris Prize. Which is similar in content to that of the Mercury Prize that is in the UK, as well as a similar one in the US.

It celebrates the best album of the year created by a Canadian band. There is a short list of 10 albums which are then voted on by a panel of judges and a winner is announced. The ceremony was last night.

This year Hey Rosetta!, Joel Plaskett, Metric were all nominated among some other bands who've been nominated other years.

A hardcore punk band won last night, they are called Fucked Up. Their album is a wonderful piece of work and it should be celebrated for what it is. That is an album wonderfully crafted which blurs the lines between rock and punk, while still keeping the fundamental aspects of both genres in place.

The news broke, to myself, this morning on the CBC website. The CBC is a federally funded organization which blankets the whole country in unbiased and fairly accurate news and information. I spent the rest of the morning reading the scathing reviews that people would post on the news article telling everyone how much they hated the band. A good 75% of the posts openly admitted to not having heard their music before, but still put in their two cents on how the sound of the band matched that of the sound of their album. Its ridiculous to think that someone can be so opinated about something they know nothing about.

Getting back to the album, I have listened to the album and it honestly took me a couple of plays to get into the groove of the sound. It is one of their better and cohesive works that they've released in the past 7 or 8 years and quite frankly they deserve the recognition in their own country.

Their album "Chemistry of Common Life" is routinely found in the top 20 of most critics. It rates higher than all of the other albums that were also short listed. I can't comment on most of the other performers on the list as I have not heard most of their work but I'm still shocked and in disbelief that someone could be so ignorant to base an opinion on nothing other than a name.

I guess the band is right, its all "Fucked Up".

"Shimmer"

2009-07-08T09:26:00.001-03:00

The following is based on a cabin that I see on the highway while driving too and from my favourite weekend vacation destination. It is not based on any type of real event and can not really be considered to be anywhere close to the truth. Also, its a rough draft completed in one sitting, I can not guarantee that the grammar will be 100% accurate and correct, I apologize for this.

You can see it from the highway most times.

If you're quick enough you can see a shimmer out of the corner of your eye, but if you don't you'll never see it.

There is it sitting on a small hill, tucked back into the woods. See it now? That glint seems to be floating, hovering taking only a small bit of time and space. Its a single pane of glass, seemingly floating in the middle of the woods. There are too many leaves at this time of year for it to be seen clearly.

The mind does seem to play tricks when you see it for the first time. The more you look at it the more it seems to disappear before your eyes. Fading in and out of reality, the same way an oasis does in the middle of the desert heat.

The first time that I saw it I didn't know if I could believe what my eyes had just shown to me.

Its view was so strange to me that I had to stop the car to get a second look, a closer look. Putting the car into reverse I could see a patch of grass in the rear view mirror. A faint foot path up the hill towards it is outlined in the grass, I would not be the first to venture a closer look.

Getting out of the car, I began to scan the surrounding woods, looking for signs which would keep me in my car. Footprints from a hunter or derelect who calls this place his home.

With the engine no longer producing a sound, I began to hear the sullen sounds of nature just off the highway.

Far off in the distance a lone loon could be hear calling to his mate. A few chirps from a nearby cricket could be heard as the wind rustled through the grass around my ankles.

Feeling the blades of long grass moving underneath my pants sent chills up my spine.

My gaze wandered from the edge of the road towards the top of the small hill, that I was determined to climb.

As I surveyed the landscape, a few things stood out among the tall grass just off to the right was a large rock. The positioning of the rock made it look unnaturatal, the top of the rock was flat and seemed to have a dirt ring around the top, as if it had been moved in the last few months.

I concentrated on the rock and tried to find the path in which the rock had fallen down from the hill. Halfway up the hill, about 6 feet from the rock I saw a pile of dirt. This was where the rock bounced down the hill.

A look of concern crossed my face. That rock bounced? I asked myself. Maybe thats just a hole dug by a coyote. Trying to convince myself but using happy thoughts.

The grass leading from in front of me was discoloured, a dull lifeless green. The further up the hill my gaze traveled the lighter the colour as though the life was being sucked from the grass.

Swallowing my pride, I straightened.

Taking my foot off the safety of the gravel shoulder of the highway I began my slow walk up the hill towards the glimmering light.

After a few feet, I stopped to look up the slight incline towards my target, no more that 15 steps away was the edge of the woods.

My heart began to race, I was excited to see exactly what was contained within this structure. The same one I had been looking at countless times while driving. Would there be nothing but old clothes and moldy bread from a long forgotten hunting trip or would I find a small treasure of gold coins, like they find in the movies?

A smile crept across my face at the thought of this.

I tried to keep my mind on target. Getting too easily excited about a 'treasure' could make the situation even more dangerous.

I quickly looked down at my watch, as I remembered the appointment I was driving towards before I stopped. My eyes widened.

Had it really been an hour since I stepped foot out of the car?

Once I reached the edge of the woods the view through the trees seemed to have gotten thicker as if a small fog had rolled out of the leaves. Was this a sign from the woods to keep my distance and stay way?

I was about to find out.

A gust of wind picks up from behind me, the trees rustle and shift in the late afternoon sunshine. A beam of light comes streaking through the trees as I reach my hand towards some of the overgrown brush in front of me.

The sparkle of the day startles me as I concentrate on the light shining on my hand. While lost in the glimmer of the sun, a small bug lands on my out stretched hand and begins to walk around in a small circle.

After a moment, the wind subsides and the bug flies off into the wood as the beam of light fades from my hand.

The thick brush is difficult to push through, after shoving several large bushes to one side I am finally able to pass through the most difficult section and into a small clearing.

The utter beauty of what is before me is shocking, the life of the day is shining through the trees above and providing a dazzling light show on the ground before me. Light reflects off of the trunks of trees, the dew covered blades of grass and a lone pane of glass.

Before me is the glass that has brought me to this place of tranquility and beauty.

Expecting to see a rundown shack with a broken pane of glass, I was disappointed and excited to find this in its place.

Hung from a single branch in the middle of the clearing is a piece of crystal on a string. The branch is close to 10 feet from the ground and the crystal is planted firmly at eye level to best capture the light from the sun.

As the light dances across the floor of the woods it also travels across some of the many different facets of the polished gem.

I stood at the edge of the clearing transfixed by the simplicity of what I see before me. Time seems to have stopped at that point. I am unable to hear the sounds of nature around me.

The gentle rustle of the leaves has slowly been replaced by a sound which is unlike anything I have heard ever again. The sound seemed to come from the center of the crystal and changed everytime a ray of light touched it.

The closest think that I can use to describe the sound is the gentle warble heard from the ticking of a watch underwater. There is no distinct noise, yet it was every noise.

For each passing second I was there, I began to see images form within the crystal. Images of things that have never happened and are destined to be repeated for all eternity. A faint glimpse of another world, fleeting into the past.

Children played. Bells were chiming. Cars were flying. Horses pulled tractors. The train ran on water. A fire burned only the edges. A bird died. A woman loved.

A single tear formed in the corner of my eye and ran down my cheek to the ground.

I suddenly felt very alone in the woods, I wanted to turn around to leave but I could not let my gaze leave the depth of the crystal.

As the sun began to set, the world around me started to suddenly come back into focus. The crystal was loosing its alure, my eyes started to dance around the clearing, but always returning to the crystal.

I could feel the crystal calling to me, trying to pull me closer to it.

The world around me started to move as I suddenly became aware that I was taking steps toward the center of the clearing.

I was no longer sure if I was in control of my own body.

As I got closer to the crystal I could see my own reflection within it. The face looking back at me was smiling.

My hand rose towards the crystal; as my fingers opened to grasp the crystal from the string I could see the crystal begin to pulse light from its core.

My finger touched the crystal and I the world was flooded with the most intense light I had ever experienced in my life. The light was brighter than 10 suns. I tried to close my eyes but I was unable to move.

The wind began to blow harder and stronger, I could feel things around me beginning to move.

Was it me that was moving or the world around me?

The light around me begin to lessen, I could almost make out some shapes around me. Was that a cow? Could that be a house?

My eyes darted around frantically looking for some familiar shape that I could focus on to regain my vision.

In a panic I began to walk forward to see if I could find anything.

After two steps I came to a crashing halt, as I lifted my leg to take another step my knee made contact with something metal. A faint and low thud echoed around me.

I reached out for the object and what I found before me startled me. My fingers ran across a flat smooth surface with a few ridged areas at the edges. After a moment of frantic identification the clouds in my vision were replaced by a familiar shape.

It was my car.

At some point during the blinding light, I had managed to walk back down the hill to the car.

It was no longer sunset, the sun was shining.

I raised my hand to look at my watch and noticed that was only 3pm. Standing on the side of the road I realized that it was all just a day dream and I had not gone to see what was in the woods after all.

I open the car door and got in the car. I let out a little sigh of releif as I put on my seat belt.

With the strap pressed against my chest I could feel something pressed against my skin, it was the necklace that my daughter had made for me.

Lifting it out from underneath my shirt I looked at the ornate crystal hanging from the string necklace. It was beautiful, I loved looking at it shimmer in the sunlight.

I vowed that I would never let if out of my sight.

"The Box"

2009-06-08T17:03:00.002-03:00

The following is a work of fiction and should not be taken seriously in any manner:

The day was the 23rd of October, and I will remember it forever. It is the day that my world was flipped upside down. What makes this day so special?

This was the day that I found the dirt covered box in our backyard.

There was nothing special about this box from the first time that I saw it. It was unremarkable in every manner.

Taking the dog for a walk in the woods one day after work, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. As soon as I turned to face the object the dog could sense what I had found and began to whimper at the sight of my discovery.

Poking up out of the ground was a piece of metal with a small silver nail. I bent down to investigate closer, a cool breeze blew across my shoulder to reveal more of the box.

I grabbed a stick that lay on the ground near my right foot.

Was that there a few minutes ago? I ask myself.

I used the stick to chisel out the sides of the box so that I might be able to pull it out further.

A simple square wooden box, held shut with a small twig.

The twig holding it shut was something you would have found on the ground in the woods after being discarded by teenager once the leaves and small branches had been taken off. There was a small bump on either side of the lock mechanism which is why it was still closed after all these years.

I debated bringing the box in the house with me, but figured that it must belong to someone.

I left it where it was, off to the right side of the path still mostly buried in the dirt. Hoping that by uncovering it more someone would see it and remember that it was there.

After arriving home I packed the dog in the car to take a quick drive into town to pick up a few groceries, before sitting down to do some extra work this evening.

When I arrived home I noticed something different, the dog did not want to leave the car. Normally, he's trying to get out the door before I've actually opened it.

Today he sits on the passenger seat and just looks at me. Whimpering a little.

I follow his glance and notice that there is something blocking the steps leading into the house.

Initially I am unable to distinguish what I am looking at. Slowly, my eyes begin to focus on the object and I notice what is sitting on the steps.

Its the wooden box that I uncovered in the woods.

There is something about the box this time, it looks a little different almost hollow.

I slowly begin to exit the car and tell the dog to stay. I look back into the car one last time and notice the dog has hidden himself under the seat.

I begin to edge closer to the house, taking one step at at time to make sure that I keep my distance.

As I near the house I see what is different about the box. Its been opened.

The lid of the box is laying completely open and flat against the stairs behind it.

I look around the area to see if I can see any foot prints or markings of the person who might have moved it there.

It was shortly after this that I noticed that the twig holding the box shut is in two pieces as if it was opened from the inside.

I began to wonder what could have opened the box from the inside when I heard the grass rustling from behind me.

As I turn to see what is behind me, I can hear the dog barking from inside the car trying to get my attention.

I being to turn around to see what was behind me when the world went black.

There were a few fragmented sounds that I can remember hearing before everything just stopped. I remember a low humming noise that seemed to come from every direction all at once, and a tearing sound which may have been from my leg.

... from the great beyond

2009-06-08T09:06:00.001-03:00

Without sounding too much like Britney Spears, I am back.

In a self-diluted kind of way. Don't ask me what I'm talking about because I am not really too sure either.

Shit has been crazy around these parts in the million years since I have last written anything. But I have decided to keep this blog more anonymous than it was before keeping everything a little more abstract than I'm used to. Posts may require a few re-writes before they're approved.

(That sounded a little pretentious. And I apologize.)

I have always enjoyed writing, and speaking my mind. But I have found that keeping a running interest in something online is a little more than I can muster for my attention span (as little as it is).

I will attempt to bring this back to what it was intended to be. A creative forum for stories and ideas.

With that I give you my next entry...

New Alternatives

2009-03-01T22:15:00.001-04:00

I love my little blog, and its title. But I've grown tired of having to update things regularly and coming up with "content" that someone might find interesting. I think I'm going to move my little spot over to Twitter and try out the micro-blogging. I'll be back from time to time, not like anyone cares to this point since I write for myself only.

I'll let you know where it is when its up.

What's wrong with the world?

2009-02-17T08:40:00.001-04:00

Music: XP8 - Angel and the Beast

There have been a few tragic and saddened news articles floating around lateley that have really gotten to me. You know the ones where people die before its their time, or innocent by-standers that happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time while some hoodlum tries to seek "revenge" by being stupid.

The stories themselves make me sad for the simple fact that I can't imagine what I would do if that happened to me or someone that I really cared about. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, or how to handle that situation.

Then there was this story, http://www.cbc.ca/canada/new-brunswick/story/2009/02/16/nb-oromocto-accident.html#articlecomments, an off-duty police office and his two children, both under the age of 5 die in an accident because of the weather conditions. Completely tragic.

At the bottom of the article, the site allows any one who has registered to post comments about the story. And in this case, most people were leaving stories and memories of the officer who had died. Then there are a few of the inconsiderate people out there who have to voice their opinion about the situation because they are right and enjoy their own voice.

You'll see a barrage of people, who are trying to mourne the loss of a friend and loved one getting angry and defensive because of this person.

I'll summarize what they wrote: "This officer wasn't on duty, he didn't die for his country or his service. Why is this news? This doesn't deserve the attention that its been gettings."

Who writes that kind of thing after someone has died. Are they that miserable that they need to try and fault something like this based on sheer nonsense.

I still can't get over what they wrote, and its been a few hours since I've read that. I just don't get people.

Pure Wanderings

2009-02-13T07:38:00.003-04:00

Music: Skinny Puppy - Sparkless

Did you ever have a moment in your day where it made you so incredibly angry and yet you have no idea why it even happened in the first place?

Let me explain:

I have a friend, lets call them N, whom I have grown to admire and respect for their sure determination in life and how they manage to get everything done that they need to. I have another "friend", whom I wouldn't call a friend any more for reasons that I will try to explain without sounding too pompus, lets call them F.

My wife at one point in time has been close to both of these people, N more recently and has developed more of a friendship than she's had with F. The problem started when F began to have her baby, which was around the same time that we were trying to have one.

F got jealous that our doctor was more willing to help us in anyway she could without having to refer us to a specialist as the wait time in our area for a person who isn't pregnant is close to 2 years. This pissed of F to no end as they had been waiting 2 years for their appointment when they had gotten pregnant. That's the first part.

After the baby arrived things had almost come back to normal between them and they would frequently make plans to go somewhere together so that she could meet their new arrival. Weeks would go by, plans would be made, but at the last minute F would cancel saying something had come up.

At the time, we were living about 6 houses away from where I worked. One of the days which F had cancelled on she had gone to work to show off the baby like all new mothers do, and mentioned that she would go see my wife on her way home. She never did show up. Over the next severval months F would frequently visit the office and never stop by to say hello to me, maybe F felt guilty about cancelling plans on my wife? Probably not, F is too selfious for that.

Lets bring this back to the current issue at hand. N is getting married soon, and in light of the new friendship has designated my wife as her honorary maid of honour, since she's not having one and we had a wedding exactly like the one that she wants.

Yesterday, it turns out that F had almost invited herself to go along wedding dress shopping. With the line, "Amanda knows me."

Who invites themselves along to something like that after knowing them for only 3 days?

Should I tell N about this, and say that they're not really friends? Should I keep it a secret and just stew on it? I don't want to mention anything and ruin what I have already established with N.

**My personal issue with F is that I was to go into business with Mr. F, but it turns out that he wasn't interested in sharing any of the work with me, just on using and licensing the software I was building to make his life easier. F*ck that.

House

2009-02-05T11:13:00.001-04:00

Music: Caustic - The Bible, The Bottle, The Bomb (Beta Virus Mix)

I'm sucking at this again. I think I need a job where I can play more freely on the internet without fear that IT isn't tracking every keystroke that I make. Thats a story for another day when I'm not typing on my computer at work. (IT rocks!) [kiss ass.]

I would like to appologize for not updating and for not commenting but it seems to be one of those trends thats going around. If find that over time, 90% of the blogs that I start reading go into a sort of hiatus and people seem to fall of the face of the planet. I'm down to 2 blogs that update on a regular basis and I read each of those everyday in my feed reader.

Today marks the 2nd morning in our new house. We actually moved in 4 days ahead of schedule because of an unexpected visit from some family with a truck and trailer. They didn't have much to move other than the furniture as we put 200km on the car carting stuff back and forth from the apartment to the house.

Its so nice to wake up in a place that you can finally call your own, its a really great feeling that I don't think I will ever get tired of. The best part about all of this is that we can start buying things for the house and start a life of our own without having to pay some skeezy guy money to live in a rat hole. (Though our last place really wasn't that bad.)

We've already gotten a new shower head, a new light fixture for the kitchen, switched all of the lights to energy efficient ones (there's a panel of 6 lights in the bathroom above the mirror, its the equivilent of 480 Watts of light but only uses 100W).

We even manged to have our first pet incident. In the 2nd bedroom closet there is a panel missing by some of the pipes but was covered over with a piece of plywood that didn't quite cover the hole. The new hold is about 4 feet up in the air. We had some totes in the closet which proved to be the right height for her. Needless to say she jumped down into the hole to see what was around, the hole has piping that runs from the hotwater tank, through the bathroom to the kitchen. We found her at the other end of the house by the hotwater tank. Cats are just crazy.

WTFriday

2009-01-23T10:41:00.001-04:00

Who lets this happen?

Seriously? Asshole shouldn't be allowed to have kids.

How is it that someone can have a child but some people are deemed unfit to own a dog?

In other news:

Fraudsters in other countries are abusing the CRTC (Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission) new national do not call list.

This list is similar to that of what is found in the USA, a person registers and a telemarketer is not allowed to call you. Simple. Instead of allowing telemarketers to have easy access to the list, the CRTC decided that they'd sell it to them. Instead of checking credentials, they sell it to anyone.

For $50 you can buy a copy of the do not call list for Toronto which has 600,000 telephone numbers on it from people in Europe and the US trying to trick people out of their money.

(Maybe this will be a new thing on here.)

Funny story

2009-01-22T10:26:00.001-04:00

This is a little rant about the project that I have been working on for the past little while, the same project that sent me to Asia twice last year. I am not working on it much any more because it was a complete and total disorganized disaster. The people in charge here have been working on the project by themselves with it closely tucked into their shirt.

This is how bad it was. When I was in Asia one of the clients asked me a question about the requirements for a single module. I looked at her and scratched my head because I did not even know what that module was and what it was responsible for. Thats how bad it was.

Back to the present. Its January 9th, the project "super visor" (I prefer to call him the "ruiner") came up with a list of things that needed to be done by the 15th and given to the client which would close off this portion and allow the company to get paid. [Have I mentioned that because the "ruiner" is not allowing anyone else to help out on some parts the project is already 7 months late?] Which is fine, whatever. It was 4 business days that they gave us to work on things. On the list were about 22 items. I had 5 items that I needed to do. There was some programming and some reports that I needed to create/fix and then give to the client. Which is fine, I had created about 12 reports for the client already so I was familiar with what needed to be done and the software.

I worked my ass off doing all of the things that I had on the list and getting them done. Hell, I even finished by morning of the 14th.

We had a meeting yesterday to go over everything. It was the 21st and there are still 11 items on the list that aren't even started! Like wtf? How does that happen? Here I was working hard for nothing. How can the company be satisfied with the way this project is going when nothing gets done at all? We promise the client something and then don't deliver? Its no wonder the guy who is over there now has called/emailed the boss with complaints from the clients because nothing is as its supposed to be.

The best point of all. This isn't really our fault. Well not completely. This project is based upon a features document which outlines all of the components of the project, it should have never been signed. When the project was awarded, they didn't really know what they wanted. They only knew that they wanted a system to help streamline their business processes.

Fine.

They have a webmapping component. The document states that they required the ability to print from the web both graphical and textual information on A4 paper. Great. It already does that. Now that they've had time to think about it, they want the web mapping to print based on a template and started yelling for that. If they had of told us 6 months ago about this, then it would be different.

Do you know how hard it is to complete something when someone keeps giving you new stuff to add on top of it?

What would happen if...

2009-01-22T00:10:00.003-04:00

Music: Silverchair - Young Modern

Canada or the United States adopted the same concept that the Isle of Man is proposing for their citizens. As some background the Isle is in the English Channel halfway between England and Ireland, its self-governing, has its own taxes, flag, anthem, etc.

The government there has been in negotiations with the big 5 (or 4) record labels to see if they can work something out. Their goal is to charge their 80,000 residents a blanket tax every year in exchange... for unlimited downloading.

Thats right, they want to legalize file-sharing sites for music in the country with a blanket tax. Now before you start thinking, remember that in Canada there has been a tax/surcharge on every single piece of blank media on the market. This includes blank VHS tapes, cassette tapes, CDs, DVDs, and even some MP3 players. This money then goes to the record labels as payment for people who tape things off the radio and television (since thats piracy or something).

What if the USA adopted this policy?

Think about it for a minute. There is about 300 million people in the country. (I'm estimating) If the government charged everyone $2 in a "internet tax", the government would be able to give the record companies $600 MILLION dollars a year to help offset the cost of what they're "losing" for not thinking proactively and getting stuck in old technology (re: American automakers). Think of the trouble this would save.

What if I don't download songs? So. The RIAA has successfully sued people who don't own computers so that doesn't matter.

What happens if more people start downloading music? The RIAA needs a swift kick in the ass to get on the band wagon that people want to own the music they buy and not just rent it.

What about the artists, do they get any money? No. The artists make on average a nickle or dime on every $20 CD sold. Most multiplatinum sellers don't care, they make their money from touring and merchandise. (Kid Rock did an interview in Canada in the 90s and they asked him about downloading, his response (summarized): "I'm rich, why should I care?")

I personally think it would be a great idea. I'd willingly pay for that.

Now if only the government would step in and tell the cable company to stop charging me $90 just so I can watch 16 HD channels...

Sources: here, here, here, and everywhere