Not that this information is for anyone in particular... but if one of my friends did happen to mention that they might be interested, here it is.
The best vasectomy doctor in Ottawa
Cheers
PS Chris, that triple-bock wheat beer is truly the Devil's drink. Actually, I'm not sure that he'd want someone's soul after drinking a few pints of that.
Mike
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Pyromania
No not the Def Leppard album, Renee.
This link is more for Brad.
How to start a fire with a chocolate bar and a coke can.
Cheers
PS Yes, this is a placeholder post, to fill in until I have time/inspiration to actually write something.
This link is more for Brad.
How to start a fire with a chocolate bar and a coke can.
Cheers
PS Yes, this is a placeholder post, to fill in until I have time/inspiration to actually write something.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Sort of out of touch
Hi all, sorry it's been quiet in this here space. It's been hard getting internet time for the past week or two.
I've picked up a few weeks work at the Canadian Housing Information Centre in Ottawa, so I've flown back with the kids for the holidays. Cate will be following as soon as her exams are finished. I figured that a few weeks here would make me as much money as a few months working at McDonalds -- even after airfare, etc. -- and the kids get to see their friends and family at the holidays.
But I'm sort of hard to get ahold of while I'm in town. Actually, this is the best way to reach me. I can't access web-mail at work, but I can read blogs, so if you leave a reply to this message I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
It's been a busy couple weeks. I got the idea on a Wednesday, made the calls Thursday, got hired Friday, told them I couldn't start Monday (they weren't paying me *that* much), flew out Tuesday morning, started work in Ottawa Wednesday morning. I figure that I'll catch my breath just in time for the manic energy of Christmas/New Years.
Take care one and all.
I'll talk to you soon.
Cheers
I've picked up a few weeks work at the Canadian Housing Information Centre in Ottawa, so I've flown back with the kids for the holidays. Cate will be following as soon as her exams are finished. I figured that a few weeks here would make me as much money as a few months working at McDonalds -- even after airfare, etc. -- and the kids get to see their friends and family at the holidays.
But I'm sort of hard to get ahold of while I'm in town. Actually, this is the best way to reach me. I can't access web-mail at work, but I can read blogs, so if you leave a reply to this message I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
It's been a busy couple weeks. I got the idea on a Wednesday, made the calls Thursday, got hired Friday, told them I couldn't start Monday (they weren't paying me *that* much), flew out Tuesday morning, started work in Ottawa Wednesday morning. I figure that I'll catch my breath just in time for the manic energy of Christmas/New Years.
Take care one and all.
I'll talk to you soon.
Cheers
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Engineers vs Librarians
So to pick up a few extra bucks, I've been marking papers for one of Cate's advisors. It's a third year engineering class. I haven't taken a science class since grade 10 and flunked out of grade 11 advanced math. This falls in line with my philosophy that if they're dumb enough to hire me, I'm smart enough to do the job.
The course is on sustainability and other such issues in engineering so it isn't as math heavy as most engineering, I'm sure. It is mostly essay questions about environmental footprints and resource conservation.
I would love to rant about how poor the writing is, but the range is probably similar to any other cohort in any other discipline of undergrad. What I found funny was that the first thing I did when I started marking the first batch of assignments was to run an arbitrary (but not entirely random) sentence or two through Google to check for plagiarism. Of course I found a handful. I think that it worked out to between 5%-10% of the total number of assignments. Entire paragraphs cut and pasted without quotation marks, let alone attribution.*
Wikipedia was the most common souce, but it was just a significant minority.
So when I asked the prof whether I should bother to mark the papers with significant plagiarism she was rather taken aback: "I don't think that anyone has ever checked for plagiarism before. I wouldn't even know how to do it."
Engineers 0, Librarians 1.
Cheers
*Actually few included any sort of sources for their work. I became so jaded that I would only dock marks if they presented statistics or quantitative facts without acknowledging any outside sources. I mean, either they just made up the numbers, which is stupid, or they got them from someone else. Duh!
On this batch, I'm actually adding 5% for anyone who has included any indication that they refered to outside sources. I think that's more fair. I know that almost every one of them refered to outside sources -- well, except the ones who wrote really awful papers -- but I would be hard pressed to point to specific sentences that would prove it. So the ones who do cite their sources get a bonus to differentiate the good guys from the bad guys.
MT
The course is on sustainability and other such issues in engineering so it isn't as math heavy as most engineering, I'm sure. It is mostly essay questions about environmental footprints and resource conservation.
I would love to rant about how poor the writing is, but the range is probably similar to any other cohort in any other discipline of undergrad. What I found funny was that the first thing I did when I started marking the first batch of assignments was to run an arbitrary (but not entirely random) sentence or two through Google to check for plagiarism. Of course I found a handful. I think that it worked out to between 5%-10% of the total number of assignments. Entire paragraphs cut and pasted without quotation marks, let alone attribution.*
Wikipedia was the most common souce, but it was just a significant minority.
So when I asked the prof whether I should bother to mark the papers with significant plagiarism she was rather taken aback: "I don't think that anyone has ever checked for plagiarism before. I wouldn't even know how to do it."
Engineers 0, Librarians 1.
Cheers
*Actually few included any sort of sources for their work. I became so jaded that I would only dock marks if they presented statistics or quantitative facts without acknowledging any outside sources. I mean, either they just made up the numbers, which is stupid, or they got them from someone else. Duh!
On this batch, I'm actually adding 5% for anyone who has included any indication that they refered to outside sources. I think that's more fair. I know that almost every one of them refered to outside sources -- well, except the ones who wrote really awful papers -- but I would be hard pressed to point to specific sentences that would prove it. So the ones who do cite their sources get a bonus to differentiate the good guys from the bad guys.
MT
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Combustion and Comestibles
Yep. A new feature here on our show is favorite foods. Today I'm going to talk about smoked foods. Yeah. I'm killing time for 5 minutes until I take the kids to a birthday party. And we went to the market yesterday.
1. Have you ever been sitting around the campfire and thought, "that smells so good I wish I could eat it." Now you can. Russian double-smoked sausage is the closest thing you can get to chewing on a burning cedar log. Minus the heat, of course.
2. My brother-in-law's smoked trout. Vaughn sent me a bottle in September and it was awesome. I forced myself and the kids to only eat tiny bits at a time, like candy, so it would last longer. Apparently he just uses plain old brown sugar to sweeten it during the smoking process, but it tastes better than any maple or honey smoked meat from the store. Also, trout is a strong tasting fish, but not as strong as salmon, so all of the flavors blend a bit more.
3. Cold-smoked mackerel. I just picked this up at the market yesterday and haven't actually tried it yet, but it comes whole and intact, so it actually looks like a meal.
edit: Just tried it. Very good. Extra-smoky. If you like fish on the oily side it is excellent, your enjoyment will drop from there depending on your tastes.
4. Smoked brie -- 'nuff said. (Brie is cold-smoked, too.)
5. Montreal-style smoked-meat. Interestingly, I've never had really great smoked meat in Montreal. I'm sure it's there, but I'm always going after other tastes when I'm there. I've only had it once and it seemd fine, but not dramatic.
6. Prosciutto. Love the taste, better than Montreal-style but I find the stringy fat impossible to chew. Too much work for the taste.
7. Edit 2: How could I forget smoked mussels and oysters? I guess it's because I tend to think of them as being in the pickle family more than the smoked-food family. Must be the oil that they are packaged in. One of my favorite snack foods, made even better by the fact that the kids like it too.
So there's my Sunday morning diversion.
Cheers
1. Have you ever been sitting around the campfire and thought, "that smells so good I wish I could eat it." Now you can. Russian double-smoked sausage is the closest thing you can get to chewing on a burning cedar log. Minus the heat, of course.
2. My brother-in-law's smoked trout. Vaughn sent me a bottle in September and it was awesome. I forced myself and the kids to only eat tiny bits at a time, like candy, so it would last longer. Apparently he just uses plain old brown sugar to sweeten it during the smoking process, but it tastes better than any maple or honey smoked meat from the store. Also, trout is a strong tasting fish, but not as strong as salmon, so all of the flavors blend a bit more.
3. Cold-smoked mackerel. I just picked this up at the market yesterday and haven't actually tried it yet, but it comes whole and intact, so it actually looks like a meal.
edit: Just tried it. Very good. Extra-smoky. If you like fish on the oily side it is excellent, your enjoyment will drop from there depending on your tastes.
4. Smoked brie -- 'nuff said. (Brie is cold-smoked, too.)
5. Montreal-style smoked-meat. Interestingly, I've never had really great smoked meat in Montreal. I'm sure it's there, but I'm always going after other tastes when I'm there. I've only had it once and it seemd fine, but not dramatic.
6. Prosciutto. Love the taste, better than Montreal-style but I find the stringy fat impossible to chew. Too much work for the taste.
7. Edit 2: How could I forget smoked mussels and oysters? I guess it's because I tend to think of them as being in the pickle family more than the smoked-food family. Must be the oil that they are packaged in. One of my favorite snack foods, made even better by the fact that the kids like it too.
So there's my Sunday morning diversion.
Cheers
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Breakfast at TIffany's
I was watching Dragon earlier this evening. It's not entirely unpleasant, but don't rush out to rent it unless you are already a Bruce Lee fan. What hooked my mind was the scene where he and his future wife are watching Breakfast at Tiffany's and as code for her love for him/cultural awakening she suggests that they leave half-way through. Whether or not this actually happened in Bruce Lee's life, it does highlight one of the low points in depictions of Asians in the cinema. Not only is the Chinese neighbour in Breakfast at Tiffany's only there for comic relief he's played by... Mickey Rooney. Yep, complete with over-sized dental prosthesis.
But you know, otherwise, I liked the movie and loved the book. So I was thinking that this is a movie that really deserves to be remade. The Chinese comic relief isn't necessary except when you are trying to turn a low-key social study into a romantic comedy. I'd rather see the relationship between these friends develop than yet another love-affair blossom. And really, they aren't even close friends -- she doesn't tell him about... Oh, you haven't seen it? Okay...
There are a lot of movies that have benefited from going back to the source material and starting over. (cf. Jude the Obscure/Jude, or West Side Story/Romeo and Julliet) Not that it would have to be slavishly bound to the book, but a remake doesn't need to hide the fact that in Breakfast at Tiffany's "Fred"/Truman is gay. So the love story is out. Er, so to speak.
So I was trying to think about who I would cast as Holly Golightly and "Fred" Varjak -- Yes, the quotation marks are in the credits. And as mainstreamish as it sounds, I think that Scarlett Johansson would be perfect as Miss Golighly. Audrey Hepburn was great and all (even a milquetoast version of Ingrid Bergman is a classic) but no one ever really bought her story of being from Texas -- she was just too comfortable in the smart set. When her... Oh yeah. Would you just go out and rent it already! But Scarlet Johansson is probably able to pull off all three aspects of the character: socialite, bohemian and yokel. The yokel part has to be just under the surface, though, so you don't notice it until just the right time.
The tougher part is casting "Fred". He has to be gay, as in the book, but not Truman Capote. That would be an interesting movie on its own merits. Probably a better documentary, though. Capote chose a more neutral character for his body-double. But the actor has to be able to communicate his own sense of lost youth and his envy of youthfulness while at the same time realizing more and more concretely that he doesn't want to be young again. Sort of like Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation".
Waitaminute.
Okay, Bill's too old for the part but it does sort of fit. Yeah, the character isn't gay either, but he's unavailable through being married and being a lot older than Scarlet Johansson. That does create the right distance though. He isn't after sex, he's after vibrance and that needs to be clear. It takes two social taboos to roughly equal one pheremonal inevitability, but details aside I can really understand Lost in Translation as a variation on the theme of Breakfast at Tiffany's.
I would still set my remake in the 1950s, though. The past is much better at suggesting timelessness than Japan is. Er, again, maybe not.
I should quit while I'm ahead.
Cheers
PS As great as he is, Johnny Depp should never, ever play "Fred". Chime in with any suggestions if you have 'em.
Anyone... C'mon, someone's got to have seen it.
But you know, otherwise, I liked the movie and loved the book. So I was thinking that this is a movie that really deserves to be remade. The Chinese comic relief isn't necessary except when you are trying to turn a low-key social study into a romantic comedy. I'd rather see the relationship between these friends develop than yet another love-affair blossom. And really, they aren't even close friends -- she doesn't tell him about... Oh, you haven't seen it? Okay...
There are a lot of movies that have benefited from going back to the source material and starting over. (cf. Jude the Obscure/Jude, or West Side Story/Romeo and Julliet) Not that it would have to be slavishly bound to the book, but a remake doesn't need to hide the fact that in Breakfast at Tiffany's "Fred"/Truman is gay. So the love story is out. Er, so to speak.
So I was trying to think about who I would cast as Holly Golightly and "Fred" Varjak -- Yes, the quotation marks are in the credits. And as mainstreamish as it sounds, I think that Scarlett Johansson would be perfect as Miss Golighly. Audrey Hepburn was great and all (even a milquetoast version of Ingrid Bergman is a classic) but no one ever really bought her story of being from Texas -- she was just too comfortable in the smart set. When her... Oh yeah. Would you just go out and rent it already! But Scarlet Johansson is probably able to pull off all three aspects of the character: socialite, bohemian and yokel. The yokel part has to be just under the surface, though, so you don't notice it until just the right time.
The tougher part is casting "Fred". He has to be gay, as in the book, but not Truman Capote. That would be an interesting movie on its own merits. Probably a better documentary, though. Capote chose a more neutral character for his body-double. But the actor has to be able to communicate his own sense of lost youth and his envy of youthfulness while at the same time realizing more and more concretely that he doesn't want to be young again. Sort of like Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation".
Waitaminute.
Okay, Bill's too old for the part but it does sort of fit. Yeah, the character isn't gay either, but he's unavailable through being married and being a lot older than Scarlet Johansson. That does create the right distance though. He isn't after sex, he's after vibrance and that needs to be clear. It takes two social taboos to roughly equal one pheremonal inevitability, but details aside I can really understand Lost in Translation as a variation on the theme of Breakfast at Tiffany's.
I would still set my remake in the 1950s, though. The past is much better at suggesting timelessness than Japan is. Er, again, maybe not.
I should quit while I'm ahead.
Cheers
PS As great as he is, Johnny Depp should never, ever play "Fred". Chime in with any suggestions if you have 'em.
Anyone... C'mon, someone's got to have seen it.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Twisted Video of the Week
Okay, so all of you hipsters are probably way ahead of me on this one...
But this is the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. Moby is a genius and paired with Debbie Harry. There's nothing wrong with that.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbQNgOKzZh8
Cheers
But this is the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. Moby is a genius and paired with Debbie Harry. There's nothing wrong with that.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbQNgOKzZh8
Cheers
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The Ethics of Dancing
So, is it wrong to encourage your kids to appreciate the talent of a young man who has turned out to be a creepy middle-aged man, even if the talent and creepiness are not directly related?
Earlier this evening when listening to some music with the kids a Jackson 5 song tipped the random shuffle and we were dancing around the kitchen. Little Michael Jackson was around Connor's age when this particular song was a hit and it seemed innocent enough. I mentioned to them that the singer was also known as a great dancer and they wanted to see for themselves. Now, little Michael Jackson could hoof it best of 'em but it was "Thriller" era MJ that really cemented his reputation in all respects -- at least in all of the ways worth remembering.
In 1983, when I was 15, I didn't see his performance at the Motown 25th anniversary concert when it aired on TV. But within days I saw it through the magic of betamax -- my friends Phillip and Alan were gushing about it and showed me the clip ASAP. As an aging hipster wannabe, I hate to admit that I was entranced for awhile as anyone by Jackson's unique and charismatic style. That performance of Billie Jean was the beginning of Michael-mania. In the annals of popular music it is probably in the same ball-park as the Beatles first American tour and Elvis Presley's first Sun Studios sessions -- watershed moments that both defined the course of popular music for a generation of teens (i.e. a 5 year era), and the bathos of that course's decay.
The Beatles demise was not as sad or twisted as that of the King or MJ, but it was still a product of the fact that they deserved the feral adulation of millions at the beginning. At least that was my opinion. I wanted to know what two kids (aged 8 and 5) who know nothing about Michael Jackson, then or now, thought of that performance. After all, I lived through the backlash as well and was a Jackson hater (even before the unsubstantiated but probably too-close-to-the-truth accusations began to circulate) for many years before I managed to start appreciate his early work with the Jackson 5. I've spent a lot of years considering him to be a media-darling, not a talented entertainer. So I looked that performance up on YouTube and played it for them.
Mika couldn't stop moving to the music and they both watched silently, but intently through the entire performance -- until he broke into that moonwalk. Then they gasped and fluttered in the joy of witnessing a miracle of art. They made me replay it and needed reassurance that it was not special effects, just talent. In short, I know that this is just anecdotal evidence and my fingers are burning as I type this but, I think that Michael Jackson just might be timeless.
But don't worry, that doesn't mean that you have to start liking him any more than you like Elvis or the Beatles. I'm just lobbying for grudging respect for the talent that opened the door to the creepiness that was to follow.
Yeah, slow news day.
Cheers
Check it out here if you haven't clicked above.
PS Mika's both fashion conscious and observant. Half-way through the clip she asked in entranced bafflement, "Why's he only wearing one glove?"
Earlier this evening when listening to some music with the kids a Jackson 5 song tipped the random shuffle and we were dancing around the kitchen. Little Michael Jackson was around Connor's age when this particular song was a hit and it seemed innocent enough. I mentioned to them that the singer was also known as a great dancer and they wanted to see for themselves. Now, little Michael Jackson could hoof it best of 'em but it was "Thriller" era MJ that really cemented his reputation in all respects -- at least in all of the ways worth remembering.
In 1983, when I was 15, I didn't see his performance at the Motown 25th anniversary concert when it aired on TV. But within days I saw it through the magic of betamax -- my friends Phillip and Alan were gushing about it and showed me the clip ASAP. As an aging hipster wannabe, I hate to admit that I was entranced for awhile as anyone by Jackson's unique and charismatic style. That performance of Billie Jean was the beginning of Michael-mania. In the annals of popular music it is probably in the same ball-park as the Beatles first American tour and Elvis Presley's first Sun Studios sessions -- watershed moments that both defined the course of popular music for a generation of teens (i.e. a 5 year era), and the bathos of that course's decay.
The Beatles demise was not as sad or twisted as that of the King or MJ, but it was still a product of the fact that they deserved the feral adulation of millions at the beginning. At least that was my opinion. I wanted to know what two kids (aged 8 and 5) who know nothing about Michael Jackson, then or now, thought of that performance. After all, I lived through the backlash as well and was a Jackson hater (even before the unsubstantiated but probably too-close-to-the-truth accusations began to circulate) for many years before I managed to start appreciate his early work with the Jackson 5. I've spent a lot of years considering him to be a media-darling, not a talented entertainer. So I looked that performance up on YouTube and played it for them.
Mika couldn't stop moving to the music and they both watched silently, but intently through the entire performance -- until he broke into that moonwalk. Then they gasped and fluttered in the joy of witnessing a miracle of art. They made me replay it and needed reassurance that it was not special effects, just talent. In short, I know that this is just anecdotal evidence and my fingers are burning as I type this but, I think that Michael Jackson just might be timeless.
But don't worry, that doesn't mean that you have to start liking him any more than you like Elvis or the Beatles. I'm just lobbying for grudging respect for the talent that opened the door to the creepiness that was to follow.
Yeah, slow news day.
Cheers
Check it out here if you haven't clicked above.
PS Mika's both fashion conscious and observant. Half-way through the clip she asked in entranced bafflement, "Why's he only wearing one glove?"
Monday, November 06, 2006
Hockey on the Web
I just found this!! It's a godsend for Hockey fans without TV access, or access to Canadian TV at least. The "current" games are uploaded two or three days after the original broadcast, so if there's a game you have in mind you have to avoid reading the box-scores for a few days. But there are no commercials and you can pause it whenever you want.
As an added bonus there are some classic games that you can watch. The '79 Conference final between Montreal and Boston is a great one. I intend to watch the '89 Stanley Cup final between Montreal and Calgary sometime soon. They also have the '93 game seven between Toronto and L.A., but I remember that one too clearly still. And the wrong side won. Then again, Cate's a Boston fan so she probably disagrees with my assessment of the '79 Montreal/Boston game.
Anyway, I had something for Cate and the gals a few posts ago. This one is for Cate and the lads.
Hockey on the Web
Cheers
As an added bonus there are some classic games that you can watch. The '79 Conference final between Montreal and Boston is a great one. I intend to watch the '89 Stanley Cup final between Montreal and Calgary sometime soon. They also have the '93 game seven between Toronto and L.A., but I remember that one too clearly still. And the wrong side won. Then again, Cate's a Boston fan so she probably disagrees with my assessment of the '79 Montreal/Boston game.
Anyway, I had something for Cate and the gals a few posts ago. This one is for Cate and the lads.
Hockey on the Web
Cheers
Quick catch-up
I wish I had more detailed updates. Things are good. Halloween was fun. Mika was half crazed with desire for candy and rocketed between houses. Connor had fun, but would have gladly gone home after 20 minutes or an hour. He wasn't grumpy or sour at all, just not all that into it.
I had a job interview at Halifax Public Library last week. It was for an Head Cataloguer position, which is exactly what I want. I think that the interview part went well, grueling but well. It was close to 2 1/2 hours. Then I sort of lost it on the test. It was another two hours, and I could have kept going for another half an hour or an hour but I had to go pick up the kids from school. All told it was 4 1/2 hours from 10:00 to 2:30 with no lunch. So I'm usually pretty good at cataloguing, but by the time I got to the test I wasn't at my best so who knows what the results were like.
I'll keep my fingers crossed. At least I'm getting interviews. I have another one tomorrow at the NS Legislative Library. It's a reference position, but it should be an interesting collection.
I had a job interview at Halifax Public Library last week. It was for an Head Cataloguer position, which is exactly what I want. I think that the interview part went well, grueling but well. It was close to 2 1/2 hours. Then I sort of lost it on the test. It was another two hours, and I could have kept going for another half an hour or an hour but I had to go pick up the kids from school. All told it was 4 1/2 hours from 10:00 to 2:30 with no lunch. So I'm usually pretty good at cataloguing, but by the time I got to the test I wasn't at my best so who knows what the results were like.
I'll keep my fingers crossed. At least I'm getting interviews. I have another one tomorrow at the NS Legislative Library. It's a reference position, but it should be an interesting collection.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Halifax Shoes
The kids pointed out to me today that there are a lot shoes in Halifax hanging on telephone lines. We counted 5 separate incidences on our drive down to the Commons this afternoon. That's not five pairs of shoes, just five sightings. One wire had two pairs and the one in the Commons had about a dozen pairs.
I'm almost afraid to ask the locals what's up with that?
I'm almost afraid to ask the locals what's up with that?
New Tom Waits album
I know that he's not to everyone's taste, but this three disk set of rarities and new material sounds excellent.
Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards is in stores Novemeberish.
Here's what he has to say about it:
"Orphans [contains] rough and tender tunes. Rumbas about mermaids, shuffles about train wrecks, tarantellas about insects, madrigals about drowning.
"Scared, mean, orphaned songs of rapture and melancholy. Songs that grew up hard. Songs of dubious origin rescued from cruel fate and now left wanting only to be cared for. Show that you are not afraid and take them home. They don't bite, they just need attention."
I dig his act.
Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards is in stores Novemeberish.
Here's what he has to say about it:
"Orphans [contains] rough and tender tunes. Rumbas about mermaids, shuffles about train wrecks, tarantellas about insects, madrigals about drowning.
"Scared, mean, orphaned songs of rapture and melancholy. Songs that grew up hard. Songs of dubious origin rescued from cruel fate and now left wanting only to be cared for. Show that you are not afraid and take them home. They don't bite, they just need attention."
I dig his act.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Shamless sellout
It seems that lately my market share has been dramatically dropping in the demographic "Mike's female friends, aged 29-45".
This downward trend cannot continue, so in the spirit of appealing to your most understandably base needs I give you nearly four minutes of Ewan McGregor's smile.
And as value added here, for those who are looking forward to candid videos of Ewan's motercycle trip with Jude Law (I'm looking at you Trixie), here's a taste of what you will see.
This downward trend cannot continue, so in the spirit of appealing to your most understandably base needs I give you nearly four minutes of Ewan McGregor's smile.
And as value added here, for those who are looking forward to candid videos of Ewan's motercycle trip with Jude Law (I'm looking at you Trixie), here's a taste of what you will see.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Worst piece of writing I've read in a while
Okay, so I read some pretty sketchy stuff at times, but this is truely awful. Parts read like she's aspiring to be a third-rate fantasy writer.
Read it here.
I laughed particularly loud at the opening sentance and at this: "By definition, human embryonic stem cells have the almost mythical, immortal power to grow and divide indefinitely as they become the various tissues that make up the body."
I mean do we really need the hyperbole to let us know how amazing stem cells are? And I doubt very much that they are imortal, and given that they exist they are nowhere near mythical.
Sorry for the rant. Frustrated writer's syndrome.
Cheers
Mike
Read it here.
I laughed particularly loud at the opening sentance and at this: "By definition, human embryonic stem cells have the almost mythical, immortal power to grow and divide indefinitely as they become the various tissues that make up the body."
I mean do we really need the hyperbole to let us know how amazing stem cells are? And I doubt very much that they are imortal, and given that they exist they are nowhere near mythical.
Sorry for the rant. Frustrated writer's syndrome.
Cheers
Mike
The art of dancing close...
Appologies for being so far behind in my blogging (blahging?).
Last Friday the neighbors offered to look after the kids while we went out on a date. I had looked after their three boys the weekend before and they wanted to repay me. Cate and I wracked our brains for something to do with our first night out alone in months. We didn't just want to go to a pub or a movie, both of which would have been fun, but not terribly special. Finally, late Friday afternoon, on the most whimiscal of whims we decided to take a tango class.
Cate spied a poster in a cafe for a special class that night on a form of Argentine tango called Close Embrace and it sounded like fun in a lot of ways. It was really enjoyable, but fun isn't exactly the right word. We were the only rank amateurs in the crowd -- although everyone was very helpful and welcoming -- and were both very nervous.
We didn't actually learn any steps or moves, which was a dissapointment. The class was designed to be the first of 6 workshops, so actual dancing didn't occur until some other day. We mostly learned how to walk in a straight line with our eyes closed. Which is certainly useful and bestows some tangible satisfaction when it is perfected. That alone would have been worth the price of admission.
I'm serious, mostly.
The second hour was devoted to learning to "invite your partner into the close embrace" of the dance, how to stand, where to put your chin and hands, how to walk in a straight line with a woman tightly pressing her breasts against you, how to elegantly set her back on her centre of gravity when the song is over, and how to not get too distracted while doing all of the above. Oh and the teacher insisted that we switch partners every other song or so and that we never dance with someone we know.
The grand-finale/final-exam was that everyone stood in two concentric circles, leaders on the outside, followers on the inside circle. First the followers had to close their eyes and random leaders would approach them, invite them silently into the embrace, rock rythmically side to side, then set her back on her balance. After approaching half a dozen strangers in this manner, I was sort of getting the hang of it. Then the leaders had to close their eyes and the followers moved around the circle.
Let me tell you, it is rather tricky inviting a stranger into a formal embrace when you have no notion of height, body type, etc. Personal space isn't an issue because there is none in this dance. Some worked out very well -- one guy, Peter, chalked it up to chemistry -- some were like dancing with your annoying aunt. Some were a mixture of both.
When the last woman approached me, it seemed to be going well. I could feel her approach, when I made myself taller (Tango-ki, nach!) she moved into the embrace on cue and then she leaned in... and turned out to be about a foot taller than me and was wearing a very low-cut dance shirt. I was rather startled, and not entirely in unpleasant ways, when I felt soft skin on my cheek when she leaned in. Of course I immediately forgot how to concentrate. Luckily there was enough chemistry to carry me through and it didn't go too badly.
It was a rather classic movie moment -- comedy, not romance -- when the music stopped and the teacher told us to open our eyes. The awkward thank-yous followed by a quick, embarassed escape by both of us was rather funny. I hope that she saw the humour in it too. Probably. She was wearing a dance shirt, so she probably knew what she was signing up for.
Cheers
PS. It occurs to me, as things often do when I finally write them down, that she had her eyes open so the placement of her chest was not at all a shock or surprise to her. That makes me feel a bit better, I guess. Almost flattered.
Last Friday the neighbors offered to look after the kids while we went out on a date. I had looked after their three boys the weekend before and they wanted to repay me. Cate and I wracked our brains for something to do with our first night out alone in months. We didn't just want to go to a pub or a movie, both of which would have been fun, but not terribly special. Finally, late Friday afternoon, on the most whimiscal of whims we decided to take a tango class.
Cate spied a poster in a cafe for a special class that night on a form of Argentine tango called Close Embrace and it sounded like fun in a lot of ways. It was really enjoyable, but fun isn't exactly the right word. We were the only rank amateurs in the crowd -- although everyone was very helpful and welcoming -- and were both very nervous.
We didn't actually learn any steps or moves, which was a dissapointment. The class was designed to be the first of 6 workshops, so actual dancing didn't occur until some other day. We mostly learned how to walk in a straight line with our eyes closed. Which is certainly useful and bestows some tangible satisfaction when it is perfected. That alone would have been worth the price of admission.
I'm serious, mostly.
The second hour was devoted to learning to "invite your partner into the close embrace" of the dance, how to stand, where to put your chin and hands, how to walk in a straight line with a woman tightly pressing her breasts against you, how to elegantly set her back on her centre of gravity when the song is over, and how to not get too distracted while doing all of the above. Oh and the teacher insisted that we switch partners every other song or so and that we never dance with someone we know.
The grand-finale/final-exam was that everyone stood in two concentric circles, leaders on the outside, followers on the inside circle. First the followers had to close their eyes and random leaders would approach them, invite them silently into the embrace, rock rythmically side to side, then set her back on her balance. After approaching half a dozen strangers in this manner, I was sort of getting the hang of it. Then the leaders had to close their eyes and the followers moved around the circle.
Let me tell you, it is rather tricky inviting a stranger into a formal embrace when you have no notion of height, body type, etc. Personal space isn't an issue because there is none in this dance. Some worked out very well -- one guy, Peter, chalked it up to chemistry -- some were like dancing with your annoying aunt. Some were a mixture of both.
When the last woman approached me, it seemed to be going well. I could feel her approach, when I made myself taller (Tango-ki, nach!) she moved into the embrace on cue and then she leaned in... and turned out to be about a foot taller than me and was wearing a very low-cut dance shirt. I was rather startled, and not entirely in unpleasant ways, when I felt soft skin on my cheek when she leaned in. Of course I immediately forgot how to concentrate. Luckily there was enough chemistry to carry me through and it didn't go too badly.
It was a rather classic movie moment -- comedy, not romance -- when the music stopped and the teacher told us to open our eyes. The awkward thank-yous followed by a quick, embarassed escape by both of us was rather funny. I hope that she saw the humour in it too. Probably. She was wearing a dance shirt, so she probably knew what she was signing up for.
Cheers
PS. It occurs to me, as things often do when I finally write them down, that she had her eyes open so the placement of her chest was not at all a shock or surprise to her. That makes me feel a bit better, I guess. Almost flattered.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Canada Post-Literacy Awards
I think that Moses Znaimer is behind this, but it was only a matter of time before all of these self-satisfied literary and film awards recieved their comuppance from those brassy but lovable new media...
Just kidding. It's all just a dream sequence based on a bad pun.
But if it did exist -- I mean an award, or awards, for new media -- what would it look like?
There are pretty standard categories for prizes in film, literature and music* but are we even close to understanding the structure and nature of electronic content? Without having this understanding, then how does one recognize excellence or achievement. To some extent we all get by with, "I know it when I see it".
Five years ago we might have conceived of a Best Website award. It probably would have been awarded to a site that has "must-have" content, presented in an interesting layout, with a balanced amount of both bells and whistles, all in a package with a half decent load time. Basically, books, movies or music by a different colour. A new wrapper on old media.
If the award were given out this week, YouTube would probably be the winner. Interestingly the content really isn't "must-have" - but the process of exploring the content is adictive. The act of surfing has always been the defining element of the web -- hypertext changed the internet from a glorified bulletin board to what it is now, whatever that is. And it is no coincidence that "surfing" was adopted early and stuck as the verb describing/defining what you do with the internet.
What I think is needed for the next phase of development of the web are adjectives that describe the the various qualities of surfing. I would prefer if they weren't totally goofy, but surfing isn't the most elegant term and it seems to have settled in well enough. Once people can talk and write about various types of surfing and various types of surfing experiences the way that they can talk about different types of music experiences(on functional levels -- protest vs dance music, or aesthetic levels: folk vs hip hop) then genres, forms and functions will eventually be agreed upon to the point where we can all complain about the acadamy being out of touch with the people and that "awardscasts" are really lame.
Cheers
*Note: Yes, I know that there are lots of disagreements over awards categories -- in music especially. But the core categories are rarely questioned. For example, why do acting or singing awards have to be split by gender? Anyways, there's enough of a common understanding of these media that we can easily and instantly start arguing about it, without defining a single term in advance.
MT
Just kidding. It's all just a dream sequence based on a bad pun.
But if it did exist -- I mean an award, or awards, for new media -- what would it look like?
There are pretty standard categories for prizes in film, literature and music* but are we even close to understanding the structure and nature of electronic content? Without having this understanding, then how does one recognize excellence or achievement. To some extent we all get by with, "I know it when I see it".
Five years ago we might have conceived of a Best Website award. It probably would have been awarded to a site that has "must-have" content, presented in an interesting layout, with a balanced amount of both bells and whistles, all in a package with a half decent load time. Basically, books, movies or music by a different colour. A new wrapper on old media.
If the award were given out this week, YouTube would probably be the winner. Interestingly the content really isn't "must-have" - but the process of exploring the content is adictive. The act of surfing has always been the defining element of the web -- hypertext changed the internet from a glorified bulletin board to what it is now, whatever that is. And it is no coincidence that "surfing" was adopted early and stuck as the verb describing/defining what you do with the internet.
What I think is needed for the next phase of development of the web are adjectives that describe the the various qualities of surfing. I would prefer if they weren't totally goofy, but surfing isn't the most elegant term and it seems to have settled in well enough. Once people can talk and write about various types of surfing and various types of surfing experiences the way that they can talk about different types of music experiences(on functional levels -- protest vs dance music, or aesthetic levels: folk vs hip hop) then genres, forms and functions will eventually be agreed upon to the point where we can all complain about the acadamy being out of touch with the people and that "awardscasts" are really lame.
Cheers
*Note: Yes, I know that there are lots of disagreements over awards categories -- in music especially. But the core categories are rarely questioned. For example, why do acting or singing awards have to be split by gender? Anyways, there's enough of a common understanding of these media that we can easily and instantly start arguing about it, without defining a single term in advance.
MT
Monday, October 09, 2006
Surf Pics added.
Just a quick note to let you know that I've added pictures to the surfer post in the archives.
Quick Link
Cheers
Quick Link
Cheers
Speaking of history
We took a short trip up to Grand Pre yesterday. I like that the province is so small we can drive an hour to the other side and still be in a region that is more different than the Ottawa Valley is from Southern Ontario (8 Hours if traffic is unusually good in Toronto).
Grand Pre is the place where the British expelled the Acadians. The origian village was torched after the expulsion but a memorial church* and information centre is on the site. Very cool. The engineering feats of the Acadians are documented -- how they reclaimed thousands of hectares from the sea to make arable land -- and the story of the expulsion, of course.
Again, nothing to feel proud of but interesting to connect to a different history in my new back yard. Even more cool, that there was a cat named Evangeline sleeping in the sunbeams streaming through the windows of the church. I'm profoundly ambivalent about the name "Thibault" (without an "e") appearing on the roll of the 100-odd family names of the expelled. My kin are Glaswegian, but it would be cool too to be of Acadian descent.
What can I say, romance is in my soul. ;-)
Cheers
*I sort of thought that it was cool that the grounds around the church were geometrically designed. Very French. Not sure if the Acadians were hip to the Sun King's predilection for divine order, but it felt more right than a pseudo-rustic English country garden. So I didn't ask about the arcitectural choices made in the design of the monument. Best to let sleeping cats lie, if they won't tell the absolute truth.
Grand Pre is the place where the British expelled the Acadians. The origian village was torched after the expulsion but a memorial church* and information centre is on the site. Very cool. The engineering feats of the Acadians are documented -- how they reclaimed thousands of hectares from the sea to make arable land -- and the story of the expulsion, of course.
Again, nothing to feel proud of but interesting to connect to a different history in my new back yard. Even more cool, that there was a cat named Evangeline sleeping in the sunbeams streaming through the windows of the church. I'm profoundly ambivalent about the name "Thibault" (without an "e") appearing on the roll of the 100-odd family names of the expelled. My kin are Glaswegian, but it would be cool too to be of Acadian descent.
What can I say, romance is in my soul. ;-)
Cheers
*I sort of thought that it was cool that the grounds around the church were geometrically designed. Very French. Not sure if the Acadians were hip to the Sun King's predilection for divine order, but it felt more right than a pseudo-rustic English country garden. So I didn't ask about the arcitectural choices made in the design of the monument. Best to let sleeping cats lie, if they won't tell the absolute truth.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Local History Minute
In Ottawa there is a ton of local history. We stroll around parliament hill as if it were just another park, Wilfred Laurier lived down the street from where I lived here, a constitutional accord was drafted across the lake from where we swim with the kids, Thomas D'Arcy McGee was assassinated near this pub over there...
I'm trying to learn a bit about the history of my new city and just found out that a piece of the anchor from the SS Mont Blanc, that was the source (if not the cause) of the Halifax explosion of 1917 landed just down the street from my house. That's about 5km from ground zero, which is impressive. Of course entire neighborhoods in two cities (Dartmouth on the other side of the Bedford Basin, as well) were leveled -- 1,600 homes were destroyed -- windows were broken throughout the entire city, the shockwaves were noticible as far away as Sydney, and over 2,000 people lost their lives and another 9,000 were injured.
So an anchor shank isn't really anything to be proud of, but history is about connections and hopefully understanding, not jingoism. So that's cool in its own way.
Cheers
I'm trying to learn a bit about the history of my new city and just found out that a piece of the anchor from the SS Mont Blanc, that was the source (if not the cause) of the Halifax explosion of 1917 landed just down the street from my house. That's about 5km from ground zero, which is impressive. Of course entire neighborhoods in two cities (Dartmouth on the other side of the Bedford Basin, as well) were leveled -- 1,600 homes were destroyed -- windows were broken throughout the entire city, the shockwaves were noticible as far away as Sydney, and over 2,000 people lost their lives and another 9,000 were injured.
So an anchor shank isn't really anything to be proud of, but history is about connections and hopefully understanding, not jingoism. So that's cool in its own way.
Cheers
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Profile Views?
So 16 people have viewed my profile so far. I assume that everyone knows me already. What sort of information were you hoping to find there that you don't already know? Don't you people have better things to do? :-)
Unless the number represents one person viewing the profile 16 times, in which case I should be really creeped out.
Cheers
Unless the number represents one person viewing the profile 16 times, in which case I should be really creeped out.
Cheers
NSLA Conference
Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was at a conference down the street all weekend and I lost my rhythm.
There were two obvious reasons to go to the conference: 1) To network to try to find a job, or information that might be helpful in my job hunt, and 2) to actually learn some new stuff.
I did meet a lot of new people. Most of them were from the Annapolis Valley region, so they weren't too helpful, but they made the Saturday night banquet even more fun that it would have been. Louise is going to have a good time working with these people after her grand tour.
I was purposefully trying to not schmooze. I didn't want to come off as either desperate or a jerk (or both), so I would just socialize and talk about the sessions. Usually people would notice that my conference pass didn't have a library printed under my name so I got really good at briefly describing my situation: "I just graduated and followed my wife (shorthand) to Halifax, I've only been here a couple weeks and am looking for work." Some people asked about Ottawa (or reminisced about trips to Ottawa) and others gave me pointers and introduced me to some people they thought I should meet. I met a guy who's on the hiring committee for a job I applied for last week, so if I get an interview he will already have some sort of impression of me. But again, I wasn't trying to schmooze, so we talked about Halifax mostly.
The director of Dal's library school was really nice. She was working the room, so she introduced herself to me. She gave me her card and seemed genuinely eager to show me around the faculty and introduce me to the cataloguing professor. She even suggested that I might be asked to give a guest lecture in one of the cataloguing classes because I've worked as a tech for so long. Can't look bad on a resume.
Oh and I went to a pub on Quinpool after the banquet called the Nail and Kneecap that is really nice. Sort of smooth-around-the-edges but the music was consistently great (Velvets, Iggy, Clash, Cat Power, Feist, Robert Johnston). It's a bit too far away to just hop down for a pint after the kids are in bed, though.
The sessions themselves were good, but perhaps not great. They mostly seemed aimed at introducing the audience to things that they've never heard of before. I was expecting a bit more knowledge sharing between experts from different circumstances and perspectives (Especially in the "Cataloguing is Public Service" session). But because I had two agendae (what is the proper plural?) I didn't want to show up at sessions that would connect me with people in specialties I have no interest in, even though those are the sessions I would learn the most from.
Most of the intellectual highlights came after a session was finished and a meaty, informal discussion would emerge over coffee. I suppose if I'd been out of school longer, these sessions would have been a nice, low-key reminder of the things that I knew but were no longer in the front of my mind.
So now it's back to the actual job-hunt. Wish me luck.
Cheers
There were two obvious reasons to go to the conference: 1) To network to try to find a job, or information that might be helpful in my job hunt, and 2) to actually learn some new stuff.
I did meet a lot of new people. Most of them were from the Annapolis Valley region, so they weren't too helpful, but they made the Saturday night banquet even more fun that it would have been. Louise is going to have a good time working with these people after her grand tour.
I was purposefully trying to not schmooze. I didn't want to come off as either desperate or a jerk (or both), so I would just socialize and talk about the sessions. Usually people would notice that my conference pass didn't have a library printed under my name so I got really good at briefly describing my situation: "I just graduated and followed my wife (shorthand) to Halifax, I've only been here a couple weeks and am looking for work." Some people asked about Ottawa (or reminisced about trips to Ottawa) and others gave me pointers and introduced me to some people they thought I should meet. I met a guy who's on the hiring committee for a job I applied for last week, so if I get an interview he will already have some sort of impression of me. But again, I wasn't trying to schmooze, so we talked about Halifax mostly.
The director of Dal's library school was really nice. She was working the room, so she introduced herself to me. She gave me her card and seemed genuinely eager to show me around the faculty and introduce me to the cataloguing professor. She even suggested that I might be asked to give a guest lecture in one of the cataloguing classes because I've worked as a tech for so long. Can't look bad on a resume.
Oh and I went to a pub on Quinpool after the banquet called the Nail and Kneecap that is really nice. Sort of smooth-around-the-edges but the music was consistently great (Velvets, Iggy, Clash, Cat Power, Feist, Robert Johnston). It's a bit too far away to just hop down for a pint after the kids are in bed, though.
The sessions themselves were good, but perhaps not great. They mostly seemed aimed at introducing the audience to things that they've never heard of before. I was expecting a bit more knowledge sharing between experts from different circumstances and perspectives (Especially in the "Cataloguing is Public Service" session). But because I had two agendae (what is the proper plural?) I didn't want to show up at sessions that would connect me with people in specialties I have no interest in, even though those are the sessions I would learn the most from.
Most of the intellectual highlights came after a session was finished and a meaty, informal discussion would emerge over coffee. I suppose if I'd been out of school longer, these sessions would have been a nice, low-key reminder of the things that I knew but were no longer in the front of my mind.
So now it's back to the actual job-hunt. Wish me luck.
Cheers
Quote of the Day
"If a germ was running through the grass to Africa, would it be faster than a person?"
-- Mika
My response: I think that they're faster over short distances, but people are faster in the long, endurance races.
That seemed to satisfy her.
Cheers
-- Mika
My response: I think that they're faster over short distances, but people are faster in the long, endurance races.
That seemed to satisfy her.
Cheers
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Shout out to Jason and Shea
Speaking of miracles. Just a quick congratulations to Jason and Shea, who are now expecting their first child.
I'm putting my vote in for the name Heironymous if it is a boy. My second pick is Dunstan.
Cheers
I'm putting my vote in for the name Heironymous if it is a boy. My second pick is Dunstan.
Cheers
It's a miracle
Yesterday the kids and I were hanging out in the back yard. When we were going inside -- the kids ran ahead as usual -- out of the corner of my eye I saw something fall from the sky and bounce off the driveway onto the lawn.
A fish fell from the sky. I mean straight down, from the top of my peripherial vision.
Earlier we had seen a hawk or eagle (don't know what they have out here) fly overhead. It was just above the tree-tops, so we could see the mottled brown feathers on its head. I told the kids that it must have seen them (they have excellent vision) and thought that they were good kids and deserved a gift. This tickled them immensely.
I tend to trust that the universe will provide. I take opportunities as they arise even if they are risky (my Master's, moving to Halifax, etc.). But I decided that it would be pushing my luck to clean and eat a fish that probably came from the ocean within 50km of the Halifax Harbour.
Easy come, easy go.
Speaking of the harbour, we took a walk down at the harbour after I picked Cate up from school and there was a pod of dolphins playing out in the middle of the cove. There were dozens of dorsal fins breaking the surface and the occasional spray from a blow-hole. They were probably more than 500 metres away, but that's the closest I've ever been to wild dolphons. It was conceptually cool, if not visually impressive.
A local passer-by told us that they don't usually come this deep into the cove so it wasn't just the folks from away who were stopping to gawk. That made me feel even better about it. There's nothing worse than giving yourself up to the wonder of nature only to have a jaded local make you seem foolish for being in awe. I usually curse them (or myself, when I do it) for taking it for granted. Luckily not this time, though.
Cheers
PS Kudos to the generous raptor.
A fish fell from the sky. I mean straight down, from the top of my peripherial vision.
Earlier we had seen a hawk or eagle (don't know what they have out here) fly overhead. It was just above the tree-tops, so we could see the mottled brown feathers on its head. I told the kids that it must have seen them (they have excellent vision) and thought that they were good kids and deserved a gift. This tickled them immensely.
I tend to trust that the universe will provide. I take opportunities as they arise even if they are risky (my Master's, moving to Halifax, etc.). But I decided that it would be pushing my luck to clean and eat a fish that probably came from the ocean within 50km of the Halifax Harbour.
Easy come, easy go.
Speaking of the harbour, we took a walk down at the harbour after I picked Cate up from school and there was a pod of dolphins playing out in the middle of the cove. There were dozens of dorsal fins breaking the surface and the occasional spray from a blow-hole. They were probably more than 500 metres away, but that's the closest I've ever been to wild dolphons. It was conceptually cool, if not visually impressive.
A local passer-by told us that they don't usually come this deep into the cove so it wasn't just the folks from away who were stopping to gawk. That made me feel even better about it. There's nothing worse than giving yourself up to the wonder of nature only to have a jaded local make you seem foolish for being in awe. I usually curse them (or myself, when I do it) for taking it for granted. Luckily not this time, though.
Cheers
PS Kudos to the generous raptor.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Hockey Barns
So Connor and Mika started ringette on Sunday. For those of you that don't know, it is a spin-off from hockey that is essentially the same except that you play with a ring instead of a puck. The sticks don't have a blade and you poke the end in the middle of the ring. There are other differences, but those are the obvious ones. Passing is harder, stickhandling is easier. Seems a bit redundant to me, but Cate's been playing since Christ was a carpenter (and Harrison Ford, come to think of it) -- back when girls played ringette and boys played hockey.
So Connor was one of only a handful of boys at the first practice and he's at the upper age limit for the level, so they had to pull him aside to assess his skills. So the registrar went down to the bench and sent a helper to bring Connor over. This was a portion of the exchange that took place.
Helper1: Bring him over here for the assessment.
Helper2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
Registrar: [Calling down from the stands] He's a boy.
[Pause]
Registrar: They're not from around here.
Granted with all of the equipment and his long hair, I can understand the confusion. Perhaps they could have asked him his name?
Cheers
So Connor was one of only a handful of boys at the first practice and he's at the upper age limit for the level, so they had to pull him aside to assess his skills. So the registrar went down to the bench and sent a helper to bring Connor over. This was a portion of the exchange that took place.
Helper1: Bring him over here for the assessment.
Helper2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
H1: He's a boy.
H2: She's a girl.
Registrar: [Calling down from the stands] He's a boy.
[Pause]
Registrar: They're not from around here.
Granted with all of the equipment and his long hair, I can understand the confusion. Perhaps they could have asked him his name?
Cheers
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Home
A recent email from a school-chum has got me thinking more immediately about home. She noticed that in one year London has become the "home" that she misses most immediately. Even after living elsewhere for much more of her life.
For the first month I've been here (more or less) when people ask me where I'm from I say "Ottawa". If the conversation progresses beyond small talk and the subject comes up again, I tell them that I've actually been living in London, Ontario, for the past year. (Does a quick tabulation... I've been in Ottawa about 60 of the past 390 days).
A few days ago, it struck me that I won't be back there for more than a few days for another year. That will make two years living away from Ottawa. And it doesn't completely feel like home anymore. But not completely not-home, either.
I definitely missed my family while I was away, no doubt about that. In that way home is wherever they are -- and even better now that we're all together again. And I miss my oldest friends, who mostly ended up living in Ottawa (Brad, I'm looking at you.) I miss going to the local with Ivan, who actually moved away around the same time I did. But those are relationships that happen to be in Ottawa.
I miss my friends from library school as well, though. But most of them aren't in London anymore (Trixie's even in Ottawa, ironically). And there's the rub. I definitely don't miss London as a place. I miss it as a social network, a thing other than geographic; a space that can't be mapped; relationships between points that defy the mathematics of mercator projections.
Or maybe they don't. Maybe like a mercator projection the relationships are not independent of physical distance but they are not to a uniform scale. Some people that are far away -- Ottawa, Montreal,London, Fort St. James, China -- mean more to me than people next door.
That's all very reassuring in so many ways. But I still miss all of my friends and family and I miss Ottawa less and less. Then again, I'm not a maritimer either. I don't even know if Halifaxians consider themselves maritimers or maritimer's urban cousins. But here, physically, is as much home as anywhere right now.
So, er, come and visit any time. :)
Cheers
For the first month I've been here (more or less) when people ask me where I'm from I say "Ottawa". If the conversation progresses beyond small talk and the subject comes up again, I tell them that I've actually been living in London, Ontario, for the past year. (Does a quick tabulation... I've been in Ottawa about 60 of the past 390 days).
A few days ago, it struck me that I won't be back there for more than a few days for another year. That will make two years living away from Ottawa. And it doesn't completely feel like home anymore. But not completely not-home, either.
I definitely missed my family while I was away, no doubt about that. In that way home is wherever they are -- and even better now that we're all together again. And I miss my oldest friends, who mostly ended up living in Ottawa (Brad, I'm looking at you.) I miss going to the local with Ivan, who actually moved away around the same time I did. But those are relationships that happen to be in Ottawa.
I miss my friends from library school as well, though. But most of them aren't in London anymore (Trixie's even in Ottawa, ironically). And there's the rub. I definitely don't miss London as a place. I miss it as a social network, a thing other than geographic; a space that can't be mapped; relationships between points that defy the mathematics of mercator projections.
Or maybe they don't. Maybe like a mercator projection the relationships are not independent of physical distance but they are not to a uniform scale. Some people that are far away -- Ottawa, Montreal,London, Fort St. James, China -- mean more to me than people next door.
That's all very reassuring in so many ways. But I still miss all of my friends and family and I miss Ottawa less and less. Then again, I'm not a maritimer either. I don't even know if Halifaxians consider themselves maritimers or maritimer's urban cousins. But here, physically, is as much home as anywhere right now.
So, er, come and visit any time. :)
Cheers
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
A mellowness of surfers
I've never been very much attracted to surfing or surfers. Recently I've come to appreciate the genius of peak-performance Beach Boys but wondering at the layers and loops of God Only Knows or Wouldn't It Be Nice never really made me want to pick up a surf board and head to California or Hawaii.
But I realized this weekend that if the stars had aligned just right, I'd be sleeping on a beach and talking funny instead of surfing the web and, well, talking funny in a different way.
Backing up a bit. The last time we were in Nova Scotia we rented a cottage on Hell Bay, half-way down the South Shore. It was well named, actually. I swam in the surf at high tide and it was the most exhilerating experience I've had. Really. Not like Spaulding Gray's "perfect moment" in the rip-tide in South-East Asia (cf. Swimming to Cambodia) -- I never felt seriously in danger at any time. But I was being buffeted around by the forces of nature in a way that I've never been before or since. There were no intermediaries just water picking me up and throwing me around. Being alive feels more fragile and more powerful after that.
Last Sunday, on a whim, we took a ride over to Lawrencetown and Mauritius (I think) beaches. We were actually going somewhere else and changed our minds en route. That seems to be the way we operate. We drove over a hill and about 3km of Lawrencetown beach was laid out in front of us. The shore was packed with bathers and the water was speckled with surfers waiting for the next big wave. We walked the beach and got soaked (no swimsuits), but it looked like a lot of fun. I'm old enough that I don't mind an intermediary or two.
We had dinner at a chip stand down the road (off the road, in the bush, really) called Happy Dude's Fish and Chips. The bus was painted all funky and the fish was local, fresh and fried to within an inch of our lives. The fries were salted to suit the tastes of people who had been swallowing sea-water all day. I liked it, Cate not so much.
A surfer-guy, who was on a first name basis with the staff, sat down with us and started shooting the shit. His name was Buck. He's from Vancouver, but his family has a house in Hawaii. He's been surfing since he was young. Normally the constant references to "the Beach-House in Hawaii" would bug the crap out of me, but he just seemed so otherwise good-natured that it didn't put up my defences. I'm still not sure if he was bragging or appologizing. Nova-Scotia's short surfing season and relatively small waves might be some sort of penance.
Then we moved on to the next beach. It was after dinner and starting to chill out, but this beach still had surfers. One group left the water and started bedding down for the night. Some doing their evening yoga others just wrapping up in blankets and sleeping bags. It just seemed so mellow and nice.
When I was in my late teens, I might have easily fallen in with that sort of crowd. I'm not sure how mellow I was, but the surfing might have worn me out enough or gave me a bit of perspective so that I would have been more laid back.
Last Sunday was probably the last decent swimming weekend of the year. Next summer, I might rent a boogie board or something and try out the smaller waves. Cate wants to sign the kids up for Surfing Camp next year. Connor would probably think that it's "tight". He can't help but dance when his feet are in the Ocean. I can see him growing up to be a surfer. He won't really be able to brag about a beach-house in Hawaii, though.
Cheers
EDIT: Then again, Mika might be the surfer. On Monday she was bragging to her friends about how many times the waves knocked her over. She likes to be in the thick of things.
Oh, and I should probably hoard these so I can offer a new and improved Twisted Site of the Week on a regular basis, just like the old days. But I can't sit on this one:
Concept aside, the stunned looking kids don't give me much faith that the armor is working.
http://www.armorofgodpjs.com/
Again, thanks to Xine -- whose kids will thank her for surfing the web so much while she's on maternity leave.
-- The Management
But I realized this weekend that if the stars had aligned just right, I'd be sleeping on a beach and talking funny instead of surfing the web and, well, talking funny in a different way.
Backing up a bit. The last time we were in Nova Scotia we rented a cottage on Hell Bay, half-way down the South Shore. It was well named, actually. I swam in the surf at high tide and it was the most exhilerating experience I've had. Really. Not like Spaulding Gray's "perfect moment" in the rip-tide in South-East Asia (cf. Swimming to Cambodia) -- I never felt seriously in danger at any time. But I was being buffeted around by the forces of nature in a way that I've never been before or since. There were no intermediaries just water picking me up and throwing me around. Being alive feels more fragile and more powerful after that.
Last Sunday, on a whim, we took a ride over to Lawrencetown and Mauritius (I think) beaches. We were actually going somewhere else and changed our minds en route. That seems to be the way we operate. We drove over a hill and about 3km of Lawrencetown beach was laid out in front of us. The shore was packed with bathers and the water was speckled with surfers waiting for the next big wave. We walked the beach and got soaked (no swimsuits), but it looked like a lot of fun. I'm old enough that I don't mind an intermediary or two.
We had dinner at a chip stand down the road (off the road, in the bush, really) called Happy Dude's Fish and Chips. The bus was painted all funky and the fish was local, fresh and fried to within an inch of our lives. The fries were salted to suit the tastes of people who had been swallowing sea-water all day. I liked it, Cate not so much.
A surfer-guy, who was on a first name basis with the staff, sat down with us and started shooting the shit. His name was Buck. He's from Vancouver, but his family has a house in Hawaii. He's been surfing since he was young. Normally the constant references to "the Beach-House in Hawaii" would bug the crap out of me, but he just seemed so otherwise good-natured that it didn't put up my defences. I'm still not sure if he was bragging or appologizing. Nova-Scotia's short surfing season and relatively small waves might be some sort of penance.
Then we moved on to the next beach. It was after dinner and starting to chill out, but this beach still had surfers. One group left the water and started bedding down for the night. Some doing their evening yoga others just wrapping up in blankets and sleeping bags. It just seemed so mellow and nice.
When I was in my late teens, I might have easily fallen in with that sort of crowd. I'm not sure how mellow I was, but the surfing might have worn me out enough or gave me a bit of perspective so that I would have been more laid back.
Last Sunday was probably the last decent swimming weekend of the year. Next summer, I might rent a boogie board or something and try out the smaller waves. Cate wants to sign the kids up for Surfing Camp next year. Connor would probably think that it's "tight". He can't help but dance when his feet are in the Ocean. I can see him growing up to be a surfer. He won't really be able to brag about a beach-house in Hawaii, though.
Cheers
EDIT: Then again, Mika might be the surfer. On Monday she was bragging to her friends about how many times the waves knocked her over. She likes to be in the thick of things.
Oh, and I should probably hoard these so I can offer a new and improved Twisted Site of the Week on a regular basis, just like the old days. But I can't sit on this one:
Concept aside, the stunned looking kids don't give me much faith that the armor is working.
http://www.armorofgodpjs.com/
Again, thanks to Xine -- whose kids will thank her for surfing the web so much while she's on maternity leave.
-- The Management
Friday, September 15, 2006
A chirpy post for a change
I realized yesterday that my first two posts were rather negative. I really do love it here. Really.
I actually think that once I'm used to it, I'll really be proud of living in a city where the streets change names 2-4 times within a kilometer stretch. Cate and I laughed and laughed yesterday when we got lost because Dutch Village Rd. is called Titus St. for exactly one intersection before it changes again to Lacewood. Guess which intersection we were driving through when we were looking to turn right onto Dutch Village? Yeah. Hillarious, eh?
Okay, so in the interest of lighting up the mood of this blog, I present you with kittens!!!
http://www.stuffonmycat.com/
Everyone loves kittens.
Cheers
PS Kudos to Xine for the link.
I actually think that once I'm used to it, I'll really be proud of living in a city where the streets change names 2-4 times within a kilometer stretch. Cate and I laughed and laughed yesterday when we got lost because Dutch Village Rd. is called Titus St. for exactly one intersection before it changes again to Lacewood. Guess which intersection we were driving through when we were looking to turn right onto Dutch Village? Yeah. Hillarious, eh?
Okay, so in the interest of lighting up the mood of this blog, I present you with kittens!!!
http://www.stuffonmycat.com/
Everyone loves kittens.
Cheers
PS Kudos to Xine for the link.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Sexist Halifax School Board
Okay, I know that's a rather contentious post-title. I trust you, gentle reader, to decide for yourself, of course.
So on the first day of school, I'm hanging out with our Aussie neighbour whose kids are in classes with my kids and we're discussing the differences between Canadian and Australian schools. This and that. The he says "It's sort of inconvenient that you have to pick them up every day at lunch."
Eh?
Yep. Whereas in Ottawa you have to fill out a dozen forms if your child is going to be off school property at all between 9:00 and 3:30, here they not only assume, but they insist that you pick up your kids for lunch. There is a program run by the YMCA for $100 ($90 for each additional child) and they'll look after your kids for the 90 minute lunch period -- food not included. There are only 24 spots for the entire school, though, and they were filled up long before we even considered coming to Halifax.
If we lived accross the street it wouldn't be too bad, but we have a 10 minute drive (through the dreaded Rotary) to the school. That is 4 round-trips per day -- 1 hour and 20 minutes of driving -- every day, to the school.
Have I mentioned that intend to find a job soon? If I work a 9:00-5:00 job, I will have to take 2 hours off in the middle of each day to get the kids for lunch. Then have to pick them up at 3:00. Hmmn. I'm now looking for a job that is either part-time, lots of evenings and weekends, or so well emunerated that I can hire a chauffeur for the tots.
The whole system seems to assume that mom is staying home with the kids. If mom does need to escape an abusive relationship and find a job to support her independence (or some less dramatic, but valid and realistic, scenario) she had better have supportive friends, family or neighbours.
Our neighbors are in the same boat, so for now we are switching off the pick-up/drop off until the schedule gets messed up by Claire and me becoming employed.
I think that the economy would see instant benefits in productivity if the schools would just let the kids eat their lunches in the school.
A tyranny of pedestrians
I have no real emotional attachment to driving. I do it when I have to, and walk or bike when I can. I have political and social reasons for wishing that cities were more pedestrian/bicycle friendly.
But this is crazy.
Okay, I've only been here a week or two and it might not seem that bad once I get used to it. But there are crosswalks on almost every street corner, most of which do not have amber lights, just signs and painted lines. Not only do you have to be aware of the usual hazards and concerns when you are driving in the city, but you have to watch out for pedestrians that might dart out in front of you without looking. I'm a good driver, or at least a cautious one, but the erratic behavior of these very manoeverable pedestrians is much harder to read and react to than the erratic behavior of motorists. The key-difference, ideally, is that if a car-driver screws up a bit (everyone makes mistakes) the result is a fender-bender but if a pedestrian dekes me out, he's going to the infirmary. But it doesn't appear that the pedestrians around here understand nor care about that and give new life to the Anglo-Saxon term "willy-nilly".
I feel like I'm being held hostage to the whims of pedestrians.
Ideally, no one would be held hostage to anyone else. It just bugs me, I guess, when any group feels entitled and has that entitlement enforced by law. That's the death of civility, if not actual civilisation.
Cheers
Edit: Okay, so my first real post has some overlap with Cate's blog. I reserve the right to elaborate on points she touches on. She has more ideas than me, so I get to beat the few I have into the ground.
Thank you,
-- The Management
But this is crazy.
Okay, I've only been here a week or two and it might not seem that bad once I get used to it. But there are crosswalks on almost every street corner, most of which do not have amber lights, just signs and painted lines. Not only do you have to be aware of the usual hazards and concerns when you are driving in the city, but you have to watch out for pedestrians that might dart out in front of you without looking. I'm a good driver, or at least a cautious one, but the erratic behavior of these very manoeverable pedestrians is much harder to read and react to than the erratic behavior of motorists. The key-difference, ideally, is that if a car-driver screws up a bit (everyone makes mistakes) the result is a fender-bender but if a pedestrian dekes me out, he's going to the infirmary. But it doesn't appear that the pedestrians around here understand nor care about that and give new life to the Anglo-Saxon term "willy-nilly".
I feel like I'm being held hostage to the whims of pedestrians.
Ideally, no one would be held hostage to anyone else. It just bugs me, I guess, when any group feels entitled and has that entitlement enforced by law. That's the death of civility, if not actual civilisation.
Cheers
Edit: Okay, so my first real post has some overlap with Cate's blog. I reserve the right to elaborate on points she touches on. She has more ideas than me, so I get to beat the few I have into the ground.
Thank you,
-- The Management
Non-Competition Agreement
Good morning everyone,
I've decided to try my hand at this blogging thing. Don't expect daily updates, or a lot of pictures (Cate has the pics on her computer), but I'll try to post here regularly. This blog is meant to compliment Cate's, so there won't be a lot of overlap. If you've bookmarked hers keep reading there.
I'm also going to remind infrequent blog readers that if it doesn't look like there has been an update hither or yon for a while hit reload when you're looking at the page. The browsers often cache the pages when you bookmark them, so you get the same version when you next visit.
Cheers
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
