The Monkey Man

Imagine you're on your way to work, and have decided to take the train. As you board the train, you fumble with your iPod (you're listening to 'Is There A Ghost') and check your cell phone. You are late for work. But there's still time to stop at Timmy's.

And then you look up and see a 90+ year old Asian man jump into the air and grab a hold of the bar above his hand and begin swinging back and forth across the train like a monkey. You are the only other person in the train car. You worry about his heart--it could give out any second. Or maybe you worry about him getting in trouble with those pesky transit cops.

Either way, he's caught you off guard and you don't know what to do. So you watch. He has a goofy grin on as he swings around. You don't worry anymore. Clearly, he's been doing this for years. Suddenly he jumps, lands, and picks up his cane. He hunches over slightly, and shuffles out the door.

.

Thanks for imagining with me.

When I can't sleep:

I eat Frosted Mini Wheats.

or play terrible online games.

Tomorrow will be a long day at work.

Fortunately, I have my new/used iPod to get me through it.

My week

I'll tell you right now. There's nothing more relaxing and calming than sitting on my front steps and playing guitar. I'll be barefoot, no shirt, playing the new song I wrote. If it's warm, I'll be drinking a growers. If it's not as warm as it could be, or if it's morning time...a cup of tea does the trick. Ahh summer. And to think I used to be a winter person. Ahh...but the dishes need to be done. And my room should be cleaned. Again. I made plans with new friends. Three cheers for not being a complete loner!

If I see ONE more cover of a magazine
with Michael Jackson on it, I'll moonwalk
all over its pages. Even worse, magazines
are now featuring the likes of Heath Ledger, Kurt Cobain, and Elvis.

It's cool to be dead.

The Waiting Place

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow, I'll escape.

The Sting of Raindrops

I don't expect anyone to read all this. It's so long, and it's not really meant for anyone else but me. But this is my blog, so there.

I haven’t left the house today. I almost went out to go buy socks, but I decided it could wait. After 10 days of fighting through the job at the stampede and all the unexpected surprises, setbacks and challenges, I didn’t even want to feel the discomfort of one cold raindrop trickling down my back.

It doesn’t make sense to me how as an individual, I cannot understand myself. I mean, doesn’t it make sense that if there is one thing we should be able to understand, it should be ourselves—inside and out. Literally like the back of our hand. How can emotions and intentions be so confusing? You can THINK you’re happy, and then somehow, you can realise that you’re only happy because you’ve been ignoring something that’s been ‘secretly’ stressing you out for a long time. Or you can be miserable and feel hollow immediately after something fantastic happened—like meeting some amazing girl, getting a big pay check or promotion, or learning how to whistle after 20 years of wishing you could.

No, I haven’t learned to whistle yet, but the other things did happen.

This girl wasn’t someone overwhelmingly amazing or life changing, though. I’d like to say she was, but that’d be really silly since I didn’t know her. But I bet that if I had the chance to get to know her, she would be. Already you can sense the confusion in my emotions. The pay check was huge. Not just in a monetary way, but as a stress reliever. I now know I can pay for at least one semester of school, which is huge since I’m tired of wasting time bumming around semester after semester. And the promotion isn’t really a promotion, but a big thank you from the company I work for after doing an exceedingly fantastic job at my job on the stampede grounds.

After mentioning I worked at the stampede, I always feel compelled to add that I don’t actually work FOR the stampede. I’m not a carnie, I’m not picking up garbage, and I make more than almost anyone else on the grounds for being at the bottom of a corporate ladder. I don’t really know if that’s a confidence issue that I have to tell people that I work for a promotional marketing company contracted by GMC or a source of pride because I absolutely excel at and love my job, and want people to know what I am passionate about. I’m also quick to point out that I have no emotional attachment to GMC and would hardly consider buying one ever....but that’s not important.

So, let’s get down to it.

I spent the last 10 days working Stampede. There are two observations I made with my coworkers while reflecting on our job at the stampede. One is that while on the job, we don't measure time by the sun getting lower, but instead by the skirts getting higher... The things people wear. Yikes. The other observation I make is that I can measure my life in Stampedes: Each of the last three years marks a different time in my life, and a certain feeling is invoked by each 10 day period. Three years ago, I was dating Leslie. I was also jealous, insecure, and madly in love...or at least as much as you can be at 17 years old...or so I thought. The truth is, I’d been talking with various people for a couple months around that time about my need to escape, be on my own, and live my own life for a while. Darcy and Natasha were dating, and the four of us worked together in harmony.

Fast forward one year.

The next stampede, Leslie and I had recently broken up, and this stampede would be the most time we’d spent together since the previous December. She was dating someone else, which really bothered me at the time. Darcy and I had grown much closer over the last few months as we had finished recording our first CD, ‘Faith In Shadows’. We had also spent a good few months planning to leave on what would come to be known as Josh And Darcy’s Epic Adventure. By the time stampede rolled around, we were both itching to leave. Things had grown sour with friends, and we were out of reasons to be at home. I remember feeling numb and apathetic, all the while pretending to be perfectly happy.

Fast forward one year. To now.

I had quite the year. With the trip as life changing, inspirational, and influencing as it was, and then coming home and realising that when you’ve changed, it’s beyond depressing to drop back into the same lifestyle. And then there’s the thrill of moving out, being a musician in a band, and living pay check to pay check. It all added up to make me a more independent, confident, laid back person (I think). I (think I) started to feel some pride in myself and it paralleled with my slow realisation of what I am good at, and what I (think I) wanted to pursue in life. My trip to Vancouver sealed the deal. The concert, the mountains, the ocean, and the hitch-hiking: I felt different because of it. I felt good. I was being more honest with myself, and I loved who I was (I think). I began to take the wheel in my life. I came back from that trip a much more content person (I Think). I was excited to see how this stampede would be different from the last two.

You know those women who seem to come out of nowhere every year around stampede? They are all blonde, 5’ 10” who consistently make you wonder how they fit into those clothes...and then you realise that they really DON'T fit into them. Most of their boobs are hanging out. They are, by-and-large, considered the “perfect woman” by “the average male.” I don’t know where they spend the rest of the year, and I’m convinced the City of Calgary breeds them somewhere between here and Airdrie on a farm specifically for stampede as part of getting people in a party mood. And then there’s those guys. Biceps larger than my legs, a tough looking scar on their forearm, and the perfect five o clock shadow smeared across their shining faces. Damn it, I use to think. If only.

But not this year.

This year, I went to work on the first day fully aware of how far I fell from that standard, and I couldn’t have cared less. I saw the way those guys treated the girls, how the smirked at me, how they all spat and smoked and swore and kicked stuff and I realised that personality goes a whole lot further. And I went to work knowing that my personality was likeable. That I’m not stupid, and that I can do a lot more things if I feel confident in my ability and stopped second guessing myself and wondering what other people think. I’m not six foot two and 220 lbs. But I am six feet and I’m a good guy. I actually realised that I’ve spent a lot of my life looking up to people (literally) who were shorter than me. I always felt short, and I realised it was entirely psychological.

Stampede started out well. I exuded a high level of confidence. I worked hard and people instantly noticed. Management trusted me, and I was put in charge of bigger projects after only a couple days on the job. I felt great and carried myself with a smile and an outgoing attitude. And I felt like having a coffee.

I bought a coffee from a very sweet girl who worked the coffee stand no more than 20 meters from where I worked every day. We struck up a friendly conversation full of humour and complaints about not getting enough sleep the night before. Even a month ago, I would have just kept this conversation to “one coffee please,” but now I felt good. And she was cute. Really cute.

I would end up dropping by to say hi to her and her co-worker Laura several times a day. Many times, I would start the conversation by ordering a coffee, paying for it, and then walking away after a good conversation...forgetting the coffee. I learned she was from BC, and only here to work stampede. Eventually, I told her where I worked, and in the evenings when it died down, she would bring a hot chocolate for me and we’d talk for a few minutes. On one of these nights, I asked her if I could take the train home with her. Actually, she suggested it...(teeheehee). We met after work, and took the train home, having a fantastic and light-hearted conversation the entire time. I made an effort not to make a big deal of anything and not bring up heavy topics. I’m notorious for being too intense. I think I usually become intense because I hate small talk. But this time, I was able to just be my regular self without any depressing talk of life and death and regret and all that. I offered to walk her home from the train station and she smiled and said yes. I asked her if maybe the next night we could hang out for a bit after work. The next day she came by in the evening, and I nervously asked her if she was still up for hanging out. We made plans to go for a drink and then wander the city, both aware that every moment we spent awake after work was lost sleep that would make the next day a little bit harder.

I met her at 11pm, watched the fireworks, and we caught the train. She sat in the exact same spot on the train: one of the sideways facing seats. We had a slightly deeper conversation that went beyond family and school. I learned that she’s scared of a lot of things, that she’s very smart, and probably a bit OCD. She told me she wanted to be home by 1:30...which meant we didn’t have a whole lot of time since the trains weren’t running too often. She was staying at the SAIT dorms with other stampede workers and if she was later than 1:30, she’d probably be locked out for the night. I was just happy to be spending time with someone, so it didn’t matter if our time was brief. We got to the train station near my house and the pub. I told her that in order to get there, we’d both ride my bike. This was a huge stretch for her, but eventually she got on the bike and I rode in front of her to the pub. It was closed. She suggested we just go back to the train station. I chuckled as I realised how unadventurous this girl is. I suggested we go back to my house and hang out in the back yard and talk. We walked the bike back to my house.

I gave her a quick tour of the dark house and showed her the studio in the basement. We went to the back yard, laid out a blanket and sat and talked. She tried to explain just how uptight she is. How stressed. She spent most of the time complaining about terrible customers she dealt with all day. I didn’t care what we talked about. I was just happy to be doing something besides handing out fuzzy stickers, scheduling, and updating websites. I could tell she wasn’t going to let herself get too comfortable around me and was careful to not face me. But man....the few times our eyes met....wow....

I noticed she kept checking the time, and offered to take her home a bit early. We both rode the bike to Brentwood and caught the train. Sitting in the same spot for the third time, she sat there stressing that she wouldn’t get back home on time before the security guard locked the dorms for the night. I tried to explain something I’d learned on JDEA. When you get on a train, a bus, or a plane, you can no longer get anywhere any faster. You’ve done what you can, and the rest is up to the driver. So you can relax. Lindsey said that the thought of that stressed her out even more. What opposite personalities! I found her very interesting, but definitely not my type in any way beyond appearance.

When we got to SAIT station, I told her of a short cut I knew that would get her home faster, as it was almost 1:30. She agreed, and I jumped onto the c-train tracks. She stood wide-eyed on the platform and shook her head. I knew that this was pushing her waaaay beyond her comfort level, and she probably thought I’m some psycho idiot...but I could live with that. I was just having fun now. A train had just passed, so I didn’t expect another one to approach us from ahead so soon...however, a train came screaming down the tracks with its bright headlight and blaring horn. We had to dash to the end of the platform so that there was space to get off the tracks. She screamed; I smiled though I did feel a little bad. And as we left the tracks and walked down the path to her dorm, I realised that construction had replaced my path with a hole in the ground surrounded by 12 foot fences. Now I really felt bad. I gave her two choices: go back along the tracks, or jump the fence. Another train whizsed by behind us; she chose the fence. We walked through the construction zone, climbing the fence on the other side. As we approached the door to her building, she shook her head and said “this is not me. I would never do these things.” I nervously chuckled...I’d had a good time, but I knew this was not her idea of a good night out after a 12 hour shift.

I said goodbye, gave her a stuffed fish from one of the carnie games as a joke, and after she was able to wake up one of her friends to open the door, I left.

The next few days proved awkward and I went and said “hi” far less. I made multiple half-apologies for freaking her out. She was ever polite and even bought my CD, but never came to find me on breaks. This was fine...I didn’t expect her to, and I knew that nothing would ever come of this anyways. It was all in good fun and just some time spent with a random stranger who I clicked with. I wondered if I should even go say goodbye on the last day of stampede. She texted me as I was standing 20 feet from her having a debate in my head over what to do. So I did. I told her that I was planning on hanging out with friends for a couple hours and since she had to work until 2am, I’d come by on my way out. We took a picture and hugged. Later that night, I went to say bye, but ended up helping them pack up their coffee stand until almost 2am. She then told me she wasn’t taking the train since she had arranged a ride and thank you and keep in touch and “have a good night.” So that was that. I left feeling a little bit dumb for liking her in spite of everything that didn’t make sense. She was going into first year university in BC, I didn’t know her (or hardly at all), and what I did know about her was just so “out there” and different from my other friends and how I like to live. But it’s definitely my style to get caught up in these things too quickly and easily. Girls will always rock me to the core.

Anyways, my boss loved my work, the people I was supervising loved me, and I even got attention from several cute girls in my ten days. Confidence is a powerful thing. But now, on my first day off with zero plans, I tried to spend the rainy day asleep so I wouldn’t feel depressed. It was all over. The perfect job, the power, the girl, the fun, the money. Now it was just me again. I watched Garden State. Zach Braff felt so lifeless and numb until he met this girl and stopped his medication. I worry that without that job, a girl, the power of being in control, and all that good stuff...I will quickly become numb again too. But the mere fact that I took the time to write all of this and think it out word for word means I’m avoiding my apathetic habits. I want to keep up my good mood, my confidence, and my outlook. My emotions confuse me. I should be happy and relaxed today after working so hard and achieve high goals.

Every time I play the Live Coldplay CD ‘Leftrighleftrightleft” I can sing and dance and cry. It reminds me of Vancouver, and the independent, content mentality that I came back home with. The sense of direction and purpose I found from talking with Ameeta and reading Velvet Elvis. I start every day listening to that CD. The sheer joy of the cheering crowd, the emotion in his voice as he sings. And to me it makes everything feel more real, rawer. And it keeps me going. It keeps me thinking, and it makes me smile.

My thought...

Experience isn't knowing what will and will not work. It's knowing how to make it work.

My Awesome Brother

Today I went home (where my parents live?) for dinner. I didn't realise how rarely I actually do this until I got there. Ishan really wanted me to play with him (pretty much the norm when I visit) and we were tired of playing hockey on playstation. So after dinner, I convinced him to sit down and play piano with me. At first he looked at me like I'm an idiot, "Josh, I don't know how to play piano!"

"I know, but we'll just make stuff up. Please?"

So I sat him beside me on the bench and we experimented. we found notes that sounded great together, and notes that sounded terrible. It was so fascinating to watch his little mind work, and it filled me with so much love and appreciation for Ishan and all his brilliance. He immediately recognized dissonant groups of notes and the more harmonious ones. within seconds of me explaining octaves, he understood and could find every C on the piano. he noticed the patterns of the white and black keys, and listened as he slowly brushed his hand from one end of the piano to the other. It really was a beautiful moment, as we both observed the simplicity of the sound as if for the first time. And then he was ready. I played the first six notes of Happy Birthday. "Let me try," he said. We then spent the next 45 minutes learning the whole song. He was eager to learn, and after he learned each of the four lines, he'd make everyone listen while he performed it. It was amazing to watch him struggle and get confused and almost make it all the way through only to mess up and demand to start over from the beginning. Shanaya and Jonalyn sang along. I just found it so beautiful to watch him learn and push himself. To actually watch knowledge and understanding form in a child's brain is pretty incredible. Especially when it happens so quickly. I think he really enjoyed playing too. He decided he wants to practice it so he can play it for me on my birthday. When he finally made it all the way through, we both smiled and high-fived. I'm super proud of that kid.

P.S. Playstation is pretty lame compared to moments like these.

A Taste of Pavement

On June 25th, I got hit by a car.>>

Here's the story...

It was 11.10pm and I was biking home from Safeway after work. I was heading eastbound through the stoplight intersection at Dalhousie drive and Dalford Road. It was dark(I was wearing black pants and shoes, and a brown hoodie. No helmet. Feel free to chastise; I fully understand how stupid that is), and the streets basically empty. The wind at my back, I was going at least 40km/hr through the stale green light. A black SUV (Hyundai Santa Fe) approached the intersection from the opposite direction and signaled to make a left hand turn (across my path).

Fully comprehending that I had the right of way, I proceeded through the light (as I did, it turned yellow....irrelevant) expecting him to yield. He slowed down for a split second and then accelerated as he turned--smashing into me and my bike. Luckily, he hit the back half of my bike, narrowly missing my legs. I catapulted forward about 8 feet and bounced along the pavement landing primarily on my left side and face. Again, this is that moment where I cringe to think about how it should have been since I had no helmet. I wish I could remember the actual flying-through-the-air part, but your brain shuts right down when things like this happen.

My bike landed on top of me, pinning my body to the ground. I couldn't move a muscle. First word out of my mouth: "OW!" in a more irritated and strained than frantic voice. I could feel my legs and feet, but the weight of the bike was too much to pull free from without extreme pain. Almost a minute later, as I laid there trying to catch my breath and figure out if I had broken anything, a white man in his early 30s got out of the SUV and walked slowly towards me.

"Hey, buddy," he said in a vaguely curious voice, "you OK?" He stops beside me, staring down.

Heck no, I'm not okay. I just got hit by a car. What a dumb question. But I'm breathing, not gushing blood, and nothing is broken.

"Yeah...can you take the bike off of me?"

I laid there trying to figure out how to move my legs without sending brutally sharp pain up to my neck. A car slows down beside us and rolls down his window. "Hey guys...did you know your car is blocking the road?"

I looked at the black SUV behind me. He had completed his turn and then stopped. Fair enough, it was blocking traffic, but could this guy not clearly see I had just taken quite the fall?! I shook my head at him. Gosh, I thought, now I feel bad since I'm blocking the road too. Pffff...idiot.

Almost as soon as I stood up, I checked my bike for damage. The handle bars wouldn't turn, but nothing was noticeably messed up. He handed me my backpack and water bottle and said "I'm sure I had my turning signal on, so I don't know how that happened. I didn't even see you. But you seem to be okay, so i'm going to head off.

This frustrated me on so many levels. First, I don't care if he had his turning signal on. That means he plans on turning left--it doesn't imply that he's planning on taking out a biker as well. Also, just because I can stand up doesn't mean I'm fine. I still couldn't stand up straight. I had lower back spasms with every step. My bike wasn't in working order. How did this guy expect me to get home?

I made a note of his license plate and car make/model, and told him he should drive me home. He said he had to pick up his fiancé from Safeway first (she worked at the Dalhousie store). I laid on the side of the road and called Darcy. I calmly told him that I was hit by a car, and asked him to look up the legal aspects of this situation. I definitely handled the whole thing with a level head. The other guy (his name is Andrew) was either in shock (understandable) or not very bright. He dropped me off at home where we inspected the damage on his car: a powdering of dust from my bike. I later realized my bike was in perfect shape; the handle bars had just been turned 360 degrees, causing them to not turn properly.

How is this possible? I was hit pretty hard with no helmet. And all I had to show for it was a tiny cut on my ankle from the bike landing on me. My bike was in perfect shape. DUST on his bumper? Granted, my body has been a mess for the last few days and only now can bend down to touch the ground. But seriously, I got very lucky.

I filled out a police report the next day. The police called in the driver (Andrew) and asked for his version of the events.

Andrew claimed I knowingly ran a red light and apologized for it after he hit me. Funny, since he offered to pay for any bike damages. The cops can't really rule it one way or the other since nobody else saw this happen. I don't really know what my options are legally, but I plan on finding out. I wouldn't be all that angry if he hadn't lied. But now it's war.

I have more to write about, but it can wait for a couple days. Congratulations for actually reading this whole post...sorry for the length. Feel free to leave a comment.

Bonus joke: "Doubly-wrong"

"Hey Josh, I saw just-born kittens today. I named one 'Cat'. "
"Of course you did, Darcy, that's just like you: simple and minimalist."
"One of the other ones was named Napoleon."
"As in the explorer, or the ice cream?"

Wherever you go, there you are

...Or so says a book I have been reading. It's called 'Velvet Elvis', and it's one of those books that is heavier than the weight of its pages. The tag line for this book is "Repainting the Christian Faith" which is a fairly vague and incomplete representation of what the book is ACTUALLY about-- or, more correctly, it's an understatement. Suffice to say that this book has radically changed my views and perspectives (but not necessarily beliefs), and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes a book that makes you think. Hard. But this is not a book club, and I am not Oprah. For now I'll focus on the phrase I've pulled from it and ...rant.

"Wherever you go, there you are."

The author is talking about escapism. He is saying that you can go rags to riches, move across the country, or get plastic surgery, but at the end of the day, you'll still be you --with all the same flaws and insecurities that you tried to fix by changing physical traits instead of dealing with the emotional issues behind your actions. I can understand how running away to another city because you couldn't make friends is not truly constructive. But I also think there is a method of escapism that is in fact beneficial...maybe necessary.

Sometimes running away for a few days/weeks/months is the best thing you can do. A little physical or emotional distance from everyone or everything gives you a chance to see your life from a new perspective. The root problem that what you are running away from may, in fact, be you. But that's fine. "You" coming with you on your escapist vacation, which means that you'll be able to determine exactly what baggage you are carrying with you besides that backpack. It's like an experiment, and your new physical/emotional distance is the variable. And when you travel you'll discover the constants: those patterns and habits and insecurities that seem to be unchanging no matter where you live or who you shut out. Does this make any sense?

I'm just trying to say that constructive escapism is a very helpful way to assess any problem, just as a kid will slam his door and sit alone in his room and think about why he's so mad. Timeout is such a beautiful thing. Constructive escapism = timeout.

This past weekend, I just had timeout.

Darcy asked me to go with him to Coldplay in Vancouver with his sister, Lena, and their mom, Ameeta. I really enjoy Coldplay, so I accepted the offer. Some other friends were coming out to Vancouver too. It was like we had taken our calgary life and brought it to Vancouver since so many close friends were there. I arrived with Lena and Ameeta on a plane late thursday night. Darcy had driven out with Marya and staying on Vancouver Island...somewhere, so I was supposedly fending for myself until I met up with them. However, I had made zero attempts at planning anything as far as accomodations and transportation for my five day adventure. Ameeta and Lena (who were very generous and patient in response to my lack of planning...thankyou!) offerred me a spot of floor to sleep on until I figured out a plan. Luckily, they hotel decided to upgrade their room, turning that spot of floor into a nice queensize bed. aaalllright.

That's one point for Not Planning.

I informed Ameeta that I would be taking the ferry across to Victoria the next morning in hopes of meeting with Darcy, Marya, Charles, and Brynn. But the details were very vague and too far in the future (15 hours later) to bother with.

"Okay, well what time would you like to catch the ferry?"
"hmm...morningish?"
"How are you getting there?"
"I dunno. bus? train?"
"Well I'm actually meeting a friend right near there in the morning. I could just drop you off on the way."

Perfect! Two points for Not Planning.

On the way to the ferry, she asked some fairly important questions:

"The ferry docks about 1/2 hour outside Victoria. How are you getting downtown to meet with friends?"
hmm... "I'll catch a bus I guess..I'm sure there must be one somewhere. I'll figure it out when I get there."

On the ferry, I watched whales jump and played guitar on the top deck, carefree. A man named Ray in his 50s seemed to be listening, and we eventually struck up conversation. Since he was a local, he asked what my plans were in Victoria. I told him I had none.

"Well don't you know where you're sleeping tonight?"
"...no."
"Don't you have friends in Victoria?"
"Yes, but i don't know where they are."
"Well where are you meeting them?"
" I dunno. Downtown, I guess."

I smiled and blissfully strummed my guitar. He did a little bit of panicking for me.

"How are you getting downtown?"
"I dunno. Bus, I suppose."

He shook his head and frowned slightly. "The busses needed to be pre-arranged. You're too late now. I suppose I can drop you off downtown if you'd like."

THREE points for Not Planning. (As long as you forget the part about getting into a stranger's cars far from home and all that. But Ray seemed like a cool guy.)

We jumped in his big truck and began headed to Victoria. I learned he was a weapons carrier for Vancouver area. And we are talking warheads, grenades, dynamite and torpedoes here. I eagerly tried to peer in the back of his truck. He claimed to work for the government, and I chose to believe him. He now has a copy of Clarity Amid The Chaos, which he was thrilled about. This serves as my first hitchhiking experience.

To lump the rest of my trip together, it was a great time. I love the west coast (grey skies and all), Coldplay was an 8.5/10(they were captivating, but not explosively epic. great seats though). Friends/family were amazing.

As I walked the streets of Victoria/Vancouver, I felt comfortable and at home, no matter where I was wandering. And it was at that point that I realized that it wasn't where I was, it was who I was. I am becoming comfortable being me... at home in myself. I realized that I'm still the same person there as I am here. It just took going there to see who I actually am, I guess.

Wherever you go, there you are.

My west coast timeout was wonderfully helpful. Self-reflection was the theme, spurred on by the aforementioned book. By not planning a minute, and remaining open to new plans as well as new ideas from this book, I was taken (both mentally and geographically) exactly where I needed to go...wherever that ended up being.

There's A First Time For Everything...

There's many things I'd like to do. This is one of them. I suppose we'll have to wait and see if I actually accomplish something here. It'll be something new and exciting for a while, which makes it easier. Hopefully, when the novelty wears off, habit will take over since some things get easier with time. Here we go.

Tomorrow, I head off to Vancouver and Victoria for 5 days or so. The primary reason is to see Coldplay (one of my top 6 favourite bands ever), but I'm just looking forward to getting away for a while. I can't say life has been monotonous and that this vacation will be a break from boredom. Watching the roller coaster that is my bank account has been thrilling enough. Moving out is expensive, and I had only just finished paying off various debt before calling 3344 Boulton Rd home. Money is definitely one of the things that really stresses me out. People say money can't buy happiness. I dunno about that. I can sincerely tell you that I feel waaay better knowing I have money to blow on traveling, friends, or heck..just to pay for University. So while I'll probably penny pinch the whole time I'm in BC, i'll be glad to know that i'm unable to pick up extra shifts, work more overtime, or have to wake up super early to catch the train to work. Time to relax!

I'll keep this short, but end with an good story.

I'm stackin' appples in Safeway, and an 50 year old man comes up to me and says, "Do you know what Gruyere is?"

"No...and we don't carry it in produce."

"I think it's a kind of cheese. My wife sent me here to shop for dinner ingredients."

That's the general trend with older guys alone in the store. They are lost, confused, and feel vulnerable. It's pretty funny how few guys can accurately label things like green onions and turnips. I smile, "OK, well it'll probably be down in the Deli with the other fancy cheeses..." and we proceed to walk to the far end of the store in search of these fancy cheeses. The entire time we walk, he complains about how his wife makes such complicated meals and how she's so picky about the ingredients. I politely nod and chuckle, find him a chunk of Gruyere, and decide to stop biting my tongue. "Hey, man. You should be thankful she cooks at all for you. At least she's not making macaroni and cheese, right?"

He squints at the block of cheese in his hand and shakes it in the air. "That's the thing," he says, "She IS making macaroni and cheese."