pork and beans

Capital M and I went and saw Weezer on Tuesday night. All said, I thought the concert rocked (with the exception of the drunken oaf seated next to us who tried his best to ruin the experience). I could write a concert review but I found one that says pretty much what I would have.

Weezer Review - Air Canada Centre Sept. 30, 2008
Josie C.
Staff writer for Underfunded Publications

In case anyone is unfamiliar with Weezer's older works prior to their self-titled Red Album, I feel that it is my responsibility to inform you that I bought their first album on a cassette tape. Tonight's concert at the Air Canada Centre brought out the best offerings of the band's lengthy history, from 'Say it Ain't so' to 'The Greatest Man that Ever Lived.' Surprisingly, Rivers Cuomo, the band's front man, frequently let his other band mates take the spotlight and supply the lead vocals. I was somewhat disappointed that Cuomo didn't sing 'Perfect Situation.' It's one of my favourite songs from the Make Believe album and it just didn't feel the same without Cuomo.
At one point the band brought out some instrument playing uber-fans and they were given a chance to perform along to 'Island In The Sun' and 'Beverly Hills.' During 'Beverly Hills' I was reminded of the SNL sketch with Christopher Walker requesting 'more cowbell.' Yes, that's right, there was a cowbell solo during 'Beverly Hills.'
I give this performance 7 cowbells out of 8.

Some racing, some stopping

Here’s an excerpt from a recent conversation I had at work:

JV (to ‘student’ B): It’s important to always remember that many companies monitor internet activity and in some cases, e-mail use.

‘Student’ A: Yeah, like this one time I was using the computer at work and they froze it on me. I don’t remember what I typed in, but all this porn started popping up on the computer. I tried to close it but more kept popping up. Then the computer locked up with a message saying that it was frozen due to inappropriate usage. Then I had to call my supervisor and tell her that we had a problem.
-----------------
It should be noted that ‘student’ A is different from the other guy I mentioned before, and different still from the guy I had to ask to stop looking at porn on the ‘school’ computer. As well, ‘student A’ didn’t normally use a computer at work; he must have a made a special trip. What I don’t understand about these stories is why people feel safer telling only half the story, yet the story is still incriminating. ‘Student’ A might not remember exactly what part of the human anatomy he searched for, but I’d say chances were good that his query brought up exactly what he was hoping to find.
Reason # 178 why I need a new job: pervasive, yet incomplete, porno stories.

whatever bubbles, bubbles up

Norbert Ispin encourages finding the humour in any situation. I’m not sure if this is so much funny as gross but maybe someone will find it amusing:

One of the ‘students’ I work with is rather malodorous. His scent is so strong that it lingers for hours after his departure. In fact, the room he occupies now permanently smells like the den of a wild, and very gamy animal. I wouldn’t say that I have become accustomed to the smell, far from it. But I do at least know what to expect and I also know that the smell’s intensity varies from ‘take your breath away’ to ‘this has got to be a biological weapon experiment.’
Unfortunately, a new ‘student’ at the school is struggling with the transition to this eye-watering/ stomach-churning situation. She finds the smell is giving her headaches and she has taken to eating her lunch outside to avoid her food being tainted. The worst thing is that there’s nothing I can do. The whole centre kind of stinks and the air just doesn’t circulate all that much.

Maybe one day I'll find this funny (the woman's reaction is kind of funny) but for now I’ll call this ‘Reason #216’ for why I need a new job.

big, bad ghoul

No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't stop a native-English speaker from referring to a tsunami as a 'su-sammy.' He did say it right once and then expressed complete bafflement when he saw the word again. Being that he was reading a passage about tsanamis, he was pretty confused.
I wonder what a su-sammy would look like?

take only what you need

One of the people I work with is preparing to write a GED test. Seeing the material he’s working through has made me realize how much I forgot, and how much I never really learned in high school. He’s given me a bit of time to relearn how to work with quadratic equations so I can help him understand what they're all about. At this point all I can really remember is that they come out as parabolas when graphed.
I’ve never liked math, and I’m pretty sure it never liked me. We fought each other for years – real grudge matches that scarred us both. Sometimes I gave it an unexpected KO but more often than not it sent me spiralling to the floor.
I think what I most dislike about math is the logic.

Here’s my kind of math question:

You can buy three bags of flour for $9.82. One of the bags of flour says ‘handle with care.’ Another offers first aid directions for 1/5 of its contents and the last bag claims to have a times two field multiplier.
Sally has three brothers, and two sisters, both of whom have Coeliac Disease. Her parents are bitterly divorced and have remarried. She spends ½ the week with her mother, and ¼ of the week with her father.
While shopping, Sally notices the sale on flour. How much flour will she need to buy for the time spent with her mother, and her father?

The answer, of course, is none. The parent’s lack of communication has resulted in not noticing their daughter is missing for part of the week. What’s more, none of the bags of flour sound particularly safe. The bag with a times two field multiplier would probably be deadly for the sisters with Coeliac Disease. Why would something edible need first aid directions for 1/5 of its contents and lastly, most flour needs (pun intended)to be handled, so handling with care just doesn’t add up.

that dull thud you've gotten used to

Ispin says that "regrets should keep us from making the same mistake twice, but they should never hold us back." With this in mind I've been trying to determine what's been holding me back, and how I can move past it. #1 on that list would probably be the Master's degree I started in 2001 but never finished. As a form of self flagellation, I never took myself off the e-mail list serve. Consequently, I still get almost daily messages regarding guest lecturers and thesis defences. That's probably not healthy, so I have requested to be removed from the list.

As well, I sent a professor from the program an e-mail:

Professor X, I was student of yours, taking IDS 001 in 2001. You may not remember me but I will always remember you. During my last class with you I had asked a question that prompted you to go on a 25 minute rant. At one point during your speech you said that we could have a conference and invite the foremost thinkers in the field of IDS and at no point during that conference would anyone ask the question I had just posed. I dropped your class that same day. I did not enjoy being ridiculed by you for 25 minutes. Moreover, there is no excuse for such derisive treatment. You may be well respected in your field but that doesn't give you the right to treat people the way you treated me. Ultimately what I would like is an apology. And, I would like to remind you that as an educator your actions can have far reaching consequences. You can take heart in knowing some good came out of my experience with you. I will use you as model for how not to act as an educator.
-----------------------

It was at this point that I accidently hit send instead of save. Maybe it wasn't an accident. I had to send another e-mail with my name on it so the professor could at least know who his attacker was. His response back was not at all what I expected. It was a sincere apology.

For some reason I fell apart in the Masters program. It has weighed heavily on me for years but no more. I've been thinking that I would actually like to teach in a post secondary institution. I've been thinking a lot of things but I'm not ruling this one out.

heaven restores you in life

Not long ago I stumbled across Creative Fusion: 9 Steps to Reshaping Your Life by Norbert Ispin. I’m not normally one for self help books – they all seem to repackage the same information, and I think they're a waste of time. However, this book was in the bargain bin and my life is in need of a little restructuring. As well, I liked the quick preview of Ispin’s view of the world on the book's jacket. I may be violating several copy write laws but here’s an excerpt:

Humanity is caught in a lonely trap of its own making. On one hand we scour the far reaches of space, hoping that we will come across something that proves we are not the only sentient beings beyond earth. On the other, we explore the smallest particles of our planet, hoping to unlock the mystery of our existence. Neither pursuit has provided us with the answer of why we are here, nor do they make us feel any less alone.

We see these same ideas reflected in religion. Depending on you what you believe, you may either look out to heavens or into yourself. Religion is, of course, far more complex than this but I am using brevity to help make a parallel. Regardless of whether someone has faith, or believes in evolution, or something in-between, we are all searching for meaning. Without it, we feel alone and the loneliness spurns the search and the cycle repeats again.

I haven’t read much yet but I’m interested in how Ispin believes people can find meaning and reshape their lives. Of particular interest is his first step in which he says “infuse your world with life where you need it. Create that which is important to you, whether it's something tangible or exists only in the ether of human consciousness."

Go Ispin - you tell 'em.

I'm just sitting on the shelf

I recently came across The Nine Lives of Charlotte Taylor in a bookstore. Capital M didn’t share my indignation at the title, nor did she agree with me that the author had blatantly copied my idea. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure I explained the idea of the book to her. And, I know that I really haven't made an effort to maintain the theme of my blog's title. However, there's no denying a certain similarity between our works - that's poor form Armstrong, poor form indeed!

It's me, I'm back again.

When we last left Jesse V. aka ‘the naturewitch’ he felt confident that he would find a new job, a better job, by August ’08. However, it’s now the middle of September and we find Jesse still at his old place of employment. Let’s go now and try to unearth the reasons for this troubling situation.

Investigative Team: Jesse, what happened? Why are you still working at a job you can’t stand? Are you not living in a city of millions, surely there have been better opportunities.

Jesse V: Maybe we can talk about this when I’m not at work.

IT: But the people want to know. What’s been happening in your life and are you leaving your job soon?

JV: I may be forced to leave my job if you don’t quit asking me these questions while I'm working.

IT: (laughs) Well said old boy, well said. Rumours have been circulating that you referred to your Bachelor of Education as a ‘Bachelor of Unemployment,’ is there any truth to this?

JV: (Chuckling) ahh yes, I have said that on a few occasions.

IT: So no luck with the school boards then, but what about other jobs. Surly you’ve applied at other places – any luck there?

JV: If by luck you mean unmitigated failure, then yeah I’ve had a lot of ‘luck.’

IT: How intriguing. Do you find it paradoxical that your current job requires you to have a B.Ed, or even more absurdly, a master’s degree?

JV: Yes, yes I do.

IT: Is it also true that you stopped updating your blog on account of your job dissatisfaction?

JV: It's complicated.

IT: Well maybe your blog can now outline your quest to find your purpose in life, or at the very least a better job. Maybe your blog could focus on life #9?

JV: Maybe...

asleep on the balcony after class

There have been very few books that elicited some form of verbal outburst from me. Captain Corelli's Mandolin is the only book that made me cry, I shouted out "You fool!" while reading The Meaning of Night, and most recently I said "Whoa!" not once but twice while reading Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl.
Obviously, I'm going to highly recommend this book. But, and this is a big BUT – don't read it on your own. If you're going to read it, and I suggest you do, make sure a friend, loved one, bus buddy, or neighbour down the hall is reading it as well. Why? By the time you round third base and head for home, you're going to want someone to talk to, someone who is right where you are and says "It made me say "whoa!" out loud!" to which you'll reply "me too!"
Otherwise you'll end up like me, imploring a loved one to stop reading her current book and immediately start Special Topics in Calamity Physics. The problem of course, will be that the loved one may not want to stop reading the current book (even if it looks wholly uninteresting), and even if he or she did, they wouldn't read the 500 page novel fast enough.
I would like to go into detail about this story but to do so would ruin a wonderful reading experience. I can say that Pessl is more than likely in the top percentile of Mensa; at the very least she is a literary genius.
Oh, the voice of Moderation has just stopped by:
"You're gushing."
That's true. I'll tone it down. Pessl's story is full of literary references and enough literary devices to keep an English University course occupied for a semester – even the chapter titles are names of famous literary works that cast light on the upcoming content (Othello for the chapter describing the romance between the protagonist's father and mother). Some of the reviews I've read thought there were too many allusions but I'd have to disagree. The protagonist, Blue van Meer, has had her life shaped by two things: her father and books. It would follow then that those two elements dominate her story.
If the book has a shortcoming it's a lack of likable characters. There is a reason for this (though it's not immediately obvious). Blue's father is always interesting, and Blue comes into her own eventually, but I found my interest waning at one point when I wished both she and her friends could be a little nicer. However, I would advise anyone feeling the same way to keep reading because, well, you'll just have to read it to find out.
Bottom line – start a book club and read this book. Avoid having to discuss the story in your head, to yourself, like me. Or sneaking a look at other book reviews from work. Or writing this at...
"You're saying too much."
That's true.

A brief note

This is just a quick shout out to Hamesy:
Happy Pi day!
May you always be able to solve the radius of any circle.

Ash and Koga

Recently I've been doing a lot of:
1) Makin' bread
2) Eatin' raisins
The above visual aid should clear up any questions. The careful observer will also notice the corner of the book I've been slowly reading as well. Why slowly you ask? My punishing commute to work has come to an end as I asked for, and received, a transfer to a closer office. It's still the same job but without a wacko co-worker and a man who probably holds the title for being a left hand mouse using, porno viewing champ.

you'll fall by my hand

It's fairly common to encounter a delay on the subway, either going to or coming home from work. Medical emergencies, power outages, and most recently, a train derailing are but some of the reasons for these delightful occurrences. During one such delay a woman asked in a very loud voice "am I driving the train?" There was an instant lull in the irritable chatter followed by an almost audible collective thought 'are we stopped because there's no driver?'
The woman asked again, with more uncertainty and a hint of fear, "Am I supposed to be driving the train right now?" This time people had a chance to locate her face amongst the crowd. She was clearly not employed the transit commission and wore an expression of someone who was immensely confused. "God I hope not," came the collective thought.
She then started laughing a little. Not the laugh of a sane person, or even the insane laugh of a villain bent on world domination/destruction. It was a laugh of relief. She didn't really want to drive the train and when she figured out that she didn't have to her tension was relieved by laughter.
Unsurprisingly, no one else joined in in this merry discovery.

There are 12 cylon models

The only reason why I'm still in my home and not out renting Season Two of Battlestar Galactica is that I just spent the past four hours watching the the last five episodes of the first season. I know that I'd probably pull another BSG marathon if given the chance -so it's best I keep the temptation away...

Hodge Podge

I work with a man who is 59 years old. Unlike most of the people I deal with, this guy is fairly computer literate. I do wish however, that he would stop telling me his computer stories - I have a pretty good idea of what he's been looking at but I'll let you draw your own conclusions:

• When ever anyone tells me they have multiple virus detection programs on their computer I get a little suspicious - he has three
• He told me he spent most of his entire 2 week Christmas vacation just searching on the net. Every time he takes me on this trip down memory lane the subject of his search changes. First he couldn't remember, than it was something to do with radios and most recently it was how to alter an online casino program. The story always ends the same - his computer picked up a nasty virus
• Recently he told me, and I wish he hadn't, that he set up his computer so he could do everything with his left hand, leaving his right hand free

Stop telling me these things!

Here's a little segment called "Lessons learned:"

It turns out that there is a difference between traditional bread yeast and yeast for bread machines. It's not just the difference in size and shape, though that would probably be enough for most people to decide not use traditional yeast in a bread machine. If however anyone is curious as to what happens in the above scenario, the answer is nothing. The little balls of yeast do not dissolve and as such, the bread does not rise. But wait, there's more. The little yeast balls can be seen in the bread dough, and presumably, in the cooked product. Mmm Mmm. Stay tuned for more easily avoided mistakes in the next installment of "lessons learned"

Movie Review: Brick

I'm borrowing a page from the book of Jobes, whose film reviews are dearly missed. I recently watched Brick, a film directed by Rian Johnson. After watching the very unsatisfying ending of Veronica Mars I was hoping for something a little more conclusive. Brick is the story of a high school loner trying to solve the mystery of his ex-girlfriend's death. All in all, I liked the movie and really enjoyed the noir elements - the morally ambiguous protagonist, the girl in trouble, the girl who can't be trusted and the underlying tension of the story. However, I would warn any would be renters of this film. The protagonist talks as though he grew up in a world created by Dashiell Hammett, yet the film is set in a modern day high school. This is a little off-putting at first, and at times hard to understand. Where the movie shines though is in watching the main character lose himself in his investigation. I give this film 4 Maltese falcons out of 5.

Random thought of the day: Adults who are only children have children later in life. I'm not sure if I qualify as the voice of all only children out there, but it feels like it could be true.

-Private to Butterfly girl - Thanks, as always, for your comments. I hope you enjoy whatever books you end up with. I've tried sending you an e-mail in an effort to learn more about a life lived 12 degrees north of the equator. I hope all is going well.

book review part 2

There have been so many people violently asking what other books I read in 2007 that I decided I better respond before a riot breaks out.

Blood Letting and Other Cures by Vincent Lam

I don't tend to read a lot of short stories. Most of the ones I've read have been for school and those always required an in depth analysis. However, reading BLOC was like watching a season of Grey's Anatomy (when it was good). It also reminded me that I like short stories and should read them more often.

The Geographer's Library by Jon Fasman

For the most part I enjoyed this book. There are some pretty scathing reviews on amazon.ca but I'm not sure the readers actually read the book, or they missed something while doing so. My problem came when I reached the dedication at the end of the book and was more moved by the single sentence he wrote about his wife than anything in the hundreds of pages preceding it.

Stardust - Neil Gaiman

A good old fashioned fairy tale written by a contemporary author. Capital M pointed out that he made up his own rules and I'd have to agree. That doesn't stop the story from being a good one. Rock on Gaiman, rock on.

The Girls - Laurie Lansing

A novel about conjoined twins. I only point this out because Lansing truly does a great job of telling a story about two very different women who, unsurprisingly, know almost everything about one another. But, it's in what they don't know one another that I often found the most interesting.

The Road - Cormac McCarthy

If there is an equation for minimum words = maximum depressing scene, then McCarthy has both found and mastered it. Parts of this book still haunt me and regardless of the 'fire' I found this story pretty bleak. However, I would recommend this book, just make sure you're in a 'good place' before you do.

The Thirteenth Tale by Dian Setterfield

After reading The Meaning of Night I needed a little more Victorian Style mystery. Capital M is currently reading the book so I don't want to say too much about it but I did enjoy it, though I found the narrator hard to like. Fortunately, she's not in it much.

Soon I Will be Invincible - Austin Grossman

It's hard to pick a favourite book of 2007 but this one would definitely be in the top three. Dr. Impossible may just be the best super villain ever. This book isn't just for guys who grew reading comic books, it's for anyone who ever felt bullied, misunderstood or questioned the line between good and evil. Yes, these themes are all in the book and so much more (including cyborgs and plans to take over the world). Highly recommended.

Bel Canto - Anne Patchett

I'm no doctor but I'd prescribe this for anyone who feels jaded, just broke up or likes stories permeated with love. I don't mean this derisively. The is a story meant to be read with music playing in the background and sunlight streaming though the windows (if it's cold out). There's a lightness to Patchett's story that elevates it to an almost fairytale quality. I'd like to say more but I'm afraid of giving something away. Highly recommended.

The Kite Runner by

I would truly enjoy teaching this book to a grade 10 English class. Hear me Toronto District School Board. I liked this book and would feel comfortable helping grade 10 students analyze it, so please at least interview me this year.

The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubanfeld

I actually just finished reading this one today, but I started it before Christmas. I think I have discovered that I really enjoy historical fiction. And, this novel is another stellar example of the genre. If anyone has an interest in New York at the turn of the 19th century, Shakespeare, Freud, Jung, and mysteries with more twists than a Chubby Checker concert this is a book for you. Highly recommended.

books I couldn't read:

The Tipping Point by Malcom Gladwell

It's not that I can't read non-fiction, it's just that - I don't know what it is. Sure things tip. A few 'cool' people wore hush puppies and then a lot of people wore them. Here's a new tipping point for you Gladwell - Nintendo has made a come back with the Wii because people like it. The few people who could actually get one after it was released told friends and family how great it was and those people went to great lengths to get one. Some even went to Ebay and paid for one but never received it...

The Bone Woman by Clea Koff

I'm actually quite interested in forensic anthropology (in theory and from a distance), so why I can't I read more than a page of this book a month? Probably because it's non-fiction, and probably because Koff comes off as unlikeable. She calls a mosquito 'mate' on page 2, maybe I could get past that if it were fiction, maybe.

mad rhymes

I'm out of practice with blogging (which just so happens to rhyme with jogging, and I'm also out of practice with that. Dogging, logging, and hogging, are things that I am not experienced in, which may be just as well).
In light of my flabby blogger muscles I thought I would start small and work up to bigger and better things (come on 'blogs of note')
Here's a little snippet of my thoughts during my lunch break. I was alone in a small windowless room, reading the nutritional label of Coffee Mate (for the second day in a row).

"Clump is funny verb. The powder clumped last night when the dew set in. It's funny how everyone clumps together in times of stress. If clumpin' were a new dance, would the dancers clump together if they got wet ?" Cue inner techno music.

Well there you have it. The first, and hopefully worst blog of the new year. As my old band teacher would say "it will only get better from here"

Breaking News

This just in:

American Corn Pops both look and taste different than the Canadian Version.

And now back to your regular program.

I remember when you were here

I have made my very own club. Anyone can join and it's pretty easy to get in. Staying in, however, is a different story. The "First timer's club" is, as the name suggests, for people who have done something for the very first time. First time on an airplane - you're in. First time at a foam party - you get the idea. For no very good reason I have decided that the club membership expires one week after the first timer incident. The challenge is to stay in the club for as long as possible. For younger people this isn't a problem - their lives are full of first times. For guys like me, who have just turned 31 (I'm still riding that first timer high) things get a bit more challenging. It is true that I often shout out "First timer's club" when Capital M and I are driving in a new area of the city but I think that's kind of pushing it. Real first time events tend to stick in your memory for years (like riding on top of a van and going under a rather low tunnel bridge at break neck speeds).
So to you, aspiring member or person seeking membership renewal, be safe, have fun, and never stop having first times.

Dr. Impossible

Tomorrow starts the beginning of "National Novel Writing Month." I just heard about it today and it's a pretty neat though ambitious idea. Simply put - writers are to write a short 50, 000 word novel in the month of November. I did the math (of course) and a person would have to write 1667 words per day. That brings back memories of trying to write 2000 word papers the day before they were due while in university- not an entirely pleasant experience. However, it's the idea of a deadline that is supposed to give people the push they need to write.
I'm going to meet with a group this evening who seem to have intentions of pulling this off. This is not to say that I do exactly, but who knows. At the very least I may actually start meeting people in this very large city.
Now before the e-mails start pouring in, let me say that I still intend to post a few blogs during the Na-No month (assuming I get really into it), so worry not.
In other news, I wore two costumes today. One was subtle and the other obvious. I borrowed a cowboy hat from the absent M, put on a bandana bandito style and went as a cowboy to work. For the subtle costume, I wore a shirt with a slight stain and was "the guy who doesn't know he's wearing shirt with a stain" but the irony was that I did, obviously.
And there I go breaking Carrol Burnette's 2nd rule of comedy, again.

the execution of all things

At 4:00am last night I woke up to the phone ringing. I'm not sure why but waking up to that sound really scares me.
It was a wrong number, unsurprisingly. The woman, who spoke no English, seemed put out by the little mix up (shouldn't it have been the other way around?) I hung up the phone, went back to bed and felt my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to go back to sleep. Ten sleepless minutes passed by. My heart rate was finally slowing down when the phone rang again. I didn't get up to answer it. My reasoning was the woman would hear the answering service, realize she had the wrong number and that would be that. Meanwhile, my heart pounded harder with every ring.
Fifteen minutes later the phones rang again. Part of me didn't believe it was actually happening. Why now? Why me? By the time I picked up the phone there was nothing but a dial tone.
I checked the caller history and discovered that a new person had been calling after the initial phone caller. What are the chances of that happening in the 4:00am hour? Both numbers were from Toronto and I called the second in hope of preventing a third call.
The first time I tried there was a sudden hang up. I tried again and I could hear a woman's voice when the line was answered but she doesn't hear me and she's also making no sense. I hung up, put the phone on my night table and waited for the next call in bed.
Some time shortly after 5 Am it happens.
"Please stop calling here, you have the wrong number."
There is a slight pause and woman, maybe high, says "what, what?"
"You've been calling here for almost an hour and it's the wrong number." I don't know why I don't say it as angrily as feel. Maybe it’s because I could have avoided this if I had just answered the phone the second time it rang. It's not really bad luck that's caused this, just a bad decision.
"Oh sorry," she says.
I lay awake in bed until my alarm went off less than an hour later.

Tomorrow is Halloween. I have no subtle costume ideas and no one to notice (or not) even if I did.

ready to go

My downstairs neighbour has started her own dating agency. I'm not sure I understand how the matching process works exactly but I do know that it involves meditation and yoga on the part of my neighbour. Every now and then she has a get together for her hopeful clients and tonight is one of those nights. For the past few hours I have listened to the arrhythmic drumming of a tubla, muffled conversations, and laughter. As such, on some level I would say this evening would appear to be a success.
My neighbour even stopped by to invite Capital M and me over for some food. However, Capital M is back in Halifax for the next week and I declined the offer - I wouldn't want the female clients to be disappointed when they found out I wasn't on the market.
I’m kidding, of course. I think my neighbour is secretly hoping to get Capital M in her pool of daters. She already told M that she’d be perfect for what one of her clients was looking for.
Maybe it's just as well she's not here...

Hard wire

Surprisingly, a lot of people have recently written in asking the same question:
Can you eat an entire loaf of raisin bread in one weekend?

The short answer is: We don't know yet.
Half way into the weekend and half the loaf is gone, so odds are yes I can. However, at some point 'self restraint' will come into play and that very well could turn out to be the 'TSN turning point' and prolong the bread's life. As well, I am planning on eating something else besides raisin bread for my next few meals. But, don't make any bets just yet - this is still anyone's game.

Columns of steam

I was in Zellers today and saw a cookbook called "The Rookie Cookbook." On the cover was a man tearing up as he cut an onion. So here's my question: how many onions must a man cut before they no longer burn his eyes?
I don't know how many I've chopped but I do know that it hurts it just as much now as it did 12 years ago. So tell me Jean Pare, when does the pain end?

Riding in the backseat

There are hundreds of little smudges on the windows by Laptropolis III. Three windows, all decorated with the nose imprints of two cats. Their ears have become finely attuned to the sound of Marzi's car and they bound across the room when they hear it approaching. It's almost like having dogs except the cats aren't consistent. Sometimes they leave their mark on the windows, others they stay sleeping on whatever surface has taken their fancy that day.
By this point both cats have earned many different nicknames, the most current are: Private Brown (usually cat #2) and Stinky Nickels (usually cat #1). Perhaps 'earned' is misleading - cat 2 (usually) hasn't joined the armed forces and cat 1(usually) doesn't have smelly change.
Fortunately for me, they take my songs about them and nonsensical nicknames in stride. Though this could explain why they tend to prefer the company of Capital M. Or, they're just waiting for better nicknames.

Not goin' back

My first teaching assignment was a bust. I was supposed to teach a grade 12 English class but it ended up being a terrific waste of time for myself and the students (all three of them). They should have been in a beginner ESL course; instead they were advanced grade level by level because they were paying for the course and would have gone to another private school for the credit. The private school system is so corrupt that even when I discovered one barely literate student cheated on his grade 11 final exam nothing happened - at best he was told not to do it again. This isn't to say all private schools, just the new, unaccredited ones that are hoping to make a quick buck offering students who have no interest in actually learning, the credit to say they did.
I recently saw a job posting from the school. I think it's trying to tell only qualified people to apply but it reads quite differently (I swear this is directly from the job posting - I haven't altered a word):

Since the large volume of application, we strongly suggest people who have no idea of student recruitment, please do not apply for this job. We are looking for employee who has strong background of student recruitment, or has great recourses and connections with students locally or internationally

This has to be one of the most unintentionally funny things I have ever seen. If only the job posting I saw had been written that poorly I may not have applied. If only...

Mr. F

"I've got my health" that's what went through my mind when I stood up on the bus and felt something sticking my pants to the bus seat. I usually check for gum, fluids, or other undesirable substances before I sit, but I was sleepy this morning and my guard was down. I love Toronto Transit.

Love love me

Tomorrow I have to tell a normally developed, 40 year old man that he shouldn't be looking at porn on the school computers. This will undoubtedly be an awkward conversation.

In which Jesse V tries to solve a crime and fails

Here are some deductions on the theft of my bike:

1. The bike thief only recently saw my bike before it was stolen. If not, it likely would have been taken long ago
2. The thief had to have staked out the scene, there are people around during the day and he/she had to know that no one would respond to the motion sensor light triggered at night when people walk near the area where the bike was locked up
3. The bike thief is able to easily identify high end bikes, and is not interested in bikes of little monetary value, case in point - mine was stolen, Capital M's was left behind
4. The thief may have used a truck or van, it would make for a much faster get away than fighting to get the bike in the back seat of a car
5. The thief is skilled and had the right tools for the job. The entire lock was taken with the bike. A closer examination of the the crime scene revealed absolutely no evidence that the lock had been broken, cut, or shattered. Moreover, it was a high end lock and would take some skill to open
6. The thief does not live in the neighbourhood. See point 1, and it would be foolish to try and sell or ride the bike in a place where I might find it
7. The thief did not steal the bike for personal use. See point 6, and given the skill involved with picking the lock it is likely the thief has done this before
8. The bike will not be stripped down and sold as individual parts. Selling the parts would reduce the potential for profit. Moreover, selling the bike requires one single transaction, if the parts are sold individually there is a chance the buyer may only want one or two components.
9. The bike thief must have a fence. Beyond Craigslist or the classifieds, how else could a thief sell a hot bike that most people would consider too expensive even used
10. I have phoned 24 bike shops (no exaggeration) and very few of them claim to sell high end used bikes. What they say and what they do may differ, but it is likely that most people would probably spend hundreds of dollars for a new bike, not a used one.
11. My bike may no longer be in Toronto. Based on my deductions and the fact that so few shops deal in used high end bikes, it would seem that a fence would have better luck unloading the bike across the boarder
12. I did get the name of three shops that sell stolen bikes - however I was also told that it's difficult to see the merchandise. Now I need a) a car b) some form of crime fighting glove c) a way in

everywhere the cat goes

This past Tuesday Capital M and I went to see Rilo Kiley. I like their music but I'm not as big a fan as she is. That being said, the show was awesome. The music totally rocked and being around a band that good was nothing less than inspiring. I could could keep gushing but I think I've made my point.
Well I'm on the subject of music I have thought up part of a song. It's called 'Prepositions'* and it goes like this:

Chorus

I'm stuck between trying to remember and forget,
but while I'm here I can't get by and I just can't get ahead,
For so long you were above me
now you're just beyond
I guess it's time I should be moving on


*'Prepositions' is not intented for serious audiences

Frozen Lake

The following transcript was recorded at 6:12 A.M Tuesday, Sept 18.

Fruit Fly: Hey!
J.V: Go away.
F.F: Excuse me, but I was just wondering if I could have some of your banana. Things have been pretty sparse around here since you took out the compost.
J.V: That was part of the reason why I took it out. You could can go out too you know?
F.F: I could... but I kind of like it in here. Are you going to be done with that banana peel any time soon? Oh, and is there any chance you could pick up some strawberries on your way home tonight?
J.V: Listen, it's really early and I'm not up for this right now, why don't you just sit in the windowsill and watch the sun rise, quietly.
F.F: Someone didn't get enough sleep last night. Fine, I'll watch the sunrise, but I called that banana peel.
(there is a short break in the conversation)
F.F: Holy mother of Honey Dew Melon! You didn't tell me there spiders around here - are you trying to get me killed?
J.V: (sigh) no, I just forgot. Fruit Fly, meet Hoppy. Hoppy, Fruit Fly.
Hoppy: Oi! What's all this then? A little breakfast party and I'm not invited. And it looks like you have a good spread.
(A high pitched fluttering of wings is heard moving a short distance away)
I'm hurt, I really am. Do I not keep the gnats away? Day and night I patrol these windows and this is the thanks I get. I have a mind to leave this place right now.
J.V and FF: You should!
J.V: Hoppy, it's a big world out there, right across the driveway is a place called the 'garage.' It's a wonderful building filled with all kinds of things you'd like.
Hoppy: I know what a 'garage' is, I'm not stupid. My great-great grandmother migrated from there. Unless they did some renovations before I hatched it's still not heated - no way am I'm going there.
J.V and F.F (disappointedly): Oh...
F.F: Well, this has been a fruitless morning, both literally and figuratively. I think I'll go and wait by the compost bucket - unless you were planning on bringing that with you.
J.V: Fine, the banana peel is yours, but only in the bucket.
F.F: Sweet!
Hoppy: And what about little old me? Do I not get a parting gift?
J.V: Besides a warm to place to live free of natural predators and a steady supply gnats?
Hoppy: Oh right. Speaking of which, I see one now. I'm off then.
J.V: (sigh)

paint it black

I will warn you now that this story doesn't really go anywhere, it's just something I remember from my childhood and a mystery that will forever linger in my mind:

I lived in something of a paradox when I was young boy. On one hand, I had a neurotic, over protective mother, on the other she worked 12 hour shifts and I was given a great deal of freedom during that time.
At the age of 6, I was a 'latch key kid.' I had a red cord around my neck that held both my house key and a key to the bike shed of our apartment building. My bike, quite possibly the best inanimate friend a kid could have, was a combination gift from an aunt and my grandfather. My aunt had found it, derelict along a stretch of train tracks. She brought it home and my grandfather fixed it up, painted it black and later presented it to me (to my knowledge he never worked on a bike before or after that). It wasn't my fist bike but it was definitely one of the most memorable.

We had some awesome adventures that bike and I. With the exception of winter, when I would be towing a toboggan, I was always on my bike when I was outside. I can remember outrunning guard dogs on a stretch of private property. Or at least feeling like I was outrunning them - there were two signs posted on a road that ended somewhere I was too afraid to travel to the end of, one said, "Private property, keep off" the other "beware of dogs." Whenever I rode my bike on the road I wasn't supposed to be on I could hear dogs barking and I peddled all the faster because of it. Eventually I would get to a path that took me away from the private property and when I could no longer hear the dogs I felt as though I had out-biked them. There seemed to be a greater logic to what I was doing back then but I can no longer remember, or even figure out, what it was.

My bike had something that resembled a banana seat but it was a little thicker and perfect for doubling real life friends who either didn't have a bike, or couldn't access the one they owned. It was also always up for exploring any forested area that I could peddle through, launching off jumps or the always popular and stylish 'pop-a-wheelie.'

We also faced our share of danger (more real than the dogs). There were some bullies who lived in an area that I inadvertently entered one fateful day. They took my bike and I went home in tears. The captain, with all the anger of a irate mother bear, found the boys who took my bike and made them bring her to it (they had said they couldn't get it). They had industriously placed it in a shallow hole and covered it with tree branches in the forest not far from where they lived.

We also came across a mystery that I am sure is much darker than I realized in my youthful innocence. One day, while biking to the pool, I took a short cut through the woods behind some businesses and came across a group of kids gathered around something. I asked what was going on and a boy I went to school with said they had found something. Curious, I got off my bike and went over to see . They found something alright and to this day I have no idea what they found. Semi-buried in the ground were about a dozen, maybe more, little baggies carefully tied off at the end and filled with a thick, fishbelly-white paste like substance. The bags had all been carefully placed in the ground and unfortunately I don't remember how they had been discovered. I also remember a really unpleasant smell that radiated around the baggies. Smells are supposed to be a memory trigger and I have never come across a similar scent. I also remember getting a feeling that something wasn't right about this - all of us did because we all seemed to have a collective urge to leave. I'd love to know what that was, maybe it wasn't anything but there are a lot of things I can't remember from 23 years ago and it must mean something that I can remember that.

I can go twice as high

I travel roughly 1 hour and 45 minutes to and from work each day. I won't bore anyone with my 'time wasted' calculations but rest assured I have done them (I'll have spent one entire month communting out of a year). Like so many others in Toronto I rely on the transit system, though I think I travel further than most. My epic journey requires 2 buses, one subway and one above ground subway (parway?). What do I do with all of this time you may ask? Among other things, I read.
The following is a list of the books I have read this year - most while commuting:

Straight man - Richard Russo
If I could be like the story's protaganist when I'm older I'll know I've done something right. I highly recommend this book

Harry Potter and the deathly hallows - J.K. Rowling
The wizard did it, in the garden, with a candle stick (how could you not read this if you've read the other six?)

Meaning of Night - Micheal Cox
A truly great feat of story telling - highly recommended

American Gods - Neil Gaiman
More than anything the tone of the book was so ominious that I felt tense just reading it - I'd recommend it for that alone

The Mapmaker's Opera - Béa Gonzalez
I mentioned this one before - read it!

The Inheritance of Loss - Kiran Desai
None of the characters are likable, the story doesn't really go anywhere and other authors have handled the post-colonialism theme better - not recommended

Crow Lake - Mary Lawson
Lawson, I want the time back that I wasted while reading your book

Teacher Man - Frank McCourt
It meant more when I thought I'd be a teacher, he's a little too self critical sometimes but it shines when he retells his classroom experience

The Sheltering Sky - Paul Bowles
I really don't know what to say about this one, I'd lean towards "huh?"

The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky
More like - the perks of being a messed up kid - maybe if he'd been a real wallflower I'd feel more kindly to this book

7th heaven - Alice Hoffman
Hoffman's use of magical realism is dissappointing as it doesn't tend to lead to anything. Not a bad book though

Shoot the Moon - Billie Lets
This would be a good not-feeling-well kind of book

Slaughter House 5 - Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
I wish I understood this one better - still recommended

The #1 Ladies Detective Agency - Alexander Mccall Smith
I really liked this one

Anansi Boys - Neil Gaiman
Not as as good as American Gods but good enough for a few trips to and from work

Seduction - Catherine Gildiner
Interesting but the protaginist does not resolve all conflicts (if this were Shakespeare she'd be dead) I'd still recommend it though

With Child - Laurie King
It is what it is, a book about a street smart, motor bike drivin' lesbian cop

Books I couldn't finish:

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
I'm sorry Jane I really am but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get into this book

Nights of Rain and Stars - Maeve Binchy
Even though there were only 30 pages left I couldn't bring myself to read one more - I'm ashamed I read as much I did

* Ashcroft Church

I won't lie, it would be impossible to pretend otherwise - I never liked Anderson Jeffries. He was my rival before we knew what the word meant. Our families attended the same Church and we were often left together in the care of the Sunday School teacher Ms. Higgins. For a short time we were the only children in our small church. Regardless of the number in her charge, Ms. Higgins doted on Jefferies and I was merely an afterthought. Even as small a child Jeffries seem to capture the attention of everyone around him with his subdued magnetism.

thanks a million

Arthur P. Milligan writes: Jesse V. I'm tired of reading your blog because I feel like you only write good things about yourself. A truly interesting autobioblog would have both the good and the bad. You come off as little more than one dimensional and flatter than a stock character in a Maeve Binchy book.

Ocuh! Flatter than someone in a Binchy book - you go too far good sir.
Normally the loss of a reader wouldn't mean much but being that you are one of the few people who consistently checks this site I'd hate to see you go. It is true that I don't tend to do dwell on the mundane, the depressing, or any of the other darker moments that comprise 'the human condition,' but for you Mr. Milligan I'll reach back into the archives and bare my soul to the world.
- When I was in grade two I stole carrots from a garden. Actually, I never took anything but I was with some other kids who did. I'm sure they were good carrots, being garden fresh and all.
- I was almost given some form of disciplinary action for pretending to be a grade nine student when I was actually in grade 12. The grade 9's had a sub one day and I took a seat before the class began and said I had just transferred from 'the big city'. In an unsurprising turn of events I took the joke too far and managed to waste the entire class telling stories of my inner city life. Then, in a moment of extreme arrogance I told the sub I was really in grade 12 after the bell had rung (I somehow thought she knew I was joking). Needless to say she wasn't happy.
- I have been a in total of two fist fights in my life. The first one was with a friend in elementary school. We had the obligatory circle of kids shouting "Fight! Fight!" around us. After trading a couple of blows I said "let's be friends again" and that was the end of that. I don't really remember how it started but I'm glad it ended. The other fight happened much later and I really didn't do any fighting. I just curled up into a ball, and thought of my mind as an uncarved stone.
- The list could go on, and probably will later but 6:00am is coming faster than I'd like and I should call it a night. I hope this helps flesh out my character.

Break the bed

Here is something few people know about me:

Most of these blog entries come off as mostly lighthearted and hopefully slightly comical, but there was a darker time in my life - a period that called for extreme measures and I have no choice but to admit that I took them. In a previous post I had mentioned my 'casual crime fighting gloves' that were good for dealing with petty crooks and small time Johns. What I didn't mention were my 'crime fighting gloves.' Sadly, no photographic evidence remains of these symbols of justice but I will try and describe them as best I can.
The gloves were comprised of two separate yet equally important parts: A streamline black ski glove provided the hand protection needed for dealing with society's toughest undesirables. Attached to the outer wrists of the gloves were the pointed ears cut off a batman mask. They added a 'fin' look that no one would deny meant business (the clear packing tape used to adhere the 'fins' was slightly distracting but it was kind of hard to see in the dark).
I don't have the numbers to prove it but I'm pretty sure crime was down my first year in university. Between the two sets of gloves I pretty much had all types of criminals covered.
Unfortunately for the good guys, I lost the pair of crime fighting gloves, and one of the casual crime fighters in this house fire.
Now I feel their loss all the more as my bicycle was stolen last night and I truly wish I could do something more than feel blue at its loss.

Put on the Red light

A few weeks ago I was sleeping soundly in my bed; given the time of day this was the right thing to be doing, when a noise woke me up. At first I thought it had been something from a dream but then I heard it again, it was the sound of a woman crying, or perhaps sobbing is a better word. I sprung out of bed and looked out the window and sure enough there was a woman on the street, about 20 feet away, hunched over and deeply upset. A quick look at Capital M told me all I needed to know: it was going to take something much louder to wake her up.

I threw on some shorts that, upon reflection, were not decent to wear in public and headed outside to see if I could help this woman in distress.

It was about 5:00 in the morning and the world consisted of different shades of purple. My boxers, clearly visible from the gaping hole in my shorts had changed from tropical to twilight themed. My brain, which managed to get me this far in very little time, now slowed back down and wrapped itself up in fuzzy sleepiness. Which is why I asked a woman who was clearly very upset "are you all right?"

She seemed not to hear me, although her body posture did seem like she was at least aware of my presence. I asked again, this time a little louder. She turned around and looked at me. She was about 5'5 and looked to be in her mid to late 30s. Her hair was long, curly, and probably dirty blond but looked more like mauve. She wore tight jeans and I'm pretty sure Capital M would say they are not currently in style but I can't be certain.

"Want do you want?" Came her barely audible response.

"I heard you crying." I replied. "Is there anything I can do for you?" I'm not sure what I was expecting her response to be but I do know it wasn't what she actually did. Her sobbing started all over again. She crouched down low to the ground and jumped up, spastically turning her body in the air as she did so. When she resumed her footing she leaned back hocked a huge lugee, giving her spit extra distance by leaning forward as it projected from her mouth. Fortunately, she didn't aim at me.

While she was doing her best to give her phlegm a fitting send off the ratty plastic bag she had in her hand fell to the ground and a few needles rolled out. She jerkily bent down and picked them up.

"Do you want some company?" She asked when she stood upright again.

"No, that's alright," I replied. She didn't take this well. There was more spastic jumping, more spitting and another bag mishap. It then occurred to me that this might not look good. Here I am standing on the street in very ripped shorts with a woman who is probably a prostitute and crying loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood (except Capital M). Nothing I said seemed to have any impact on her and I thought that it may be best if I called the the police and hopefully they could help where I had so miserably failed.

I went back inside, unnoticed by the woman, and tried to find the number of the police. However, I hadn't even found it when I heard a man's voice outside. I looked out the window and some other nearby dweller had managed to chase off 'Roxanne.'

I think if had my casual crime fighting gloves this story may have had a different outcome. Nonetheless, it did add some excitement at a time when I would normally be sleeping.

I sure hope he makes it in the end

I could start this off with a direct and pointed comment about the amount of time that has passed since my last post, but instead I'll leave it just like this.

In other blog spot news:

1. I have been teaching at a private school since May. There are many, many things wrong with my job and I'm not overly fond of it but at least I'm teaching.

2. Capital M says I say 'since' like 'sense.' I disagree, I think I've combined the way the two words sound into multipurpose singular word.

3. I recently read 'The Map Maker's Opera' - it gets my 'right on right on' stamp of approval

4. I tried using EBay and the seller stole my money. It turns out there isn't much buyer protection or stealer prosecution. I can't help but reflect on my luck in moments like this - I have my health, so I know it's not all bad.

5. My hair is now mostly grey - this annoys me greatly.

6. I could promise to post more often but I think I've done this before and, when looking over my opening remarks, I obviously have problems with this type of commitment

7. I'll leave things on a odd (and prime) #. In real life I prefer to have things be even (an even # of eggs remaining, an even bunch of bananas eaten at a rate of two a day) I'm not OCD - it just makes sense (pronounced with a mix of 'since')

8. On second thought - I'll stop at 8

oceans and waves and wires

Here's a little something I was told a long time ago:

During the summer, count 10 stars every night for 10 nights. On the 10th night the person you will marry will appear in a dream.

This is actually a lot harder than it seems. I think my record is three nights. I'd remind myself during the day but invariably I'd forget at some point. Although I never had a prophetic dream there is something I really like about this system. It's kind of romantic and tacitly kismet. So next time there's a starry sky look up and pick out ten stars, and even if you don't make it for the full ten nights I hope it will at least make you smile.

Spontaneity has brought a third

Penelope Winters asks: Jesse V, what’s your take on prime numbers?

Hey Penelope thanks for taking the time to write in. Prime Numbers huh? Well, as I understand it, a PN is divisible only by itself and one. For example 11 divided by any other number besides 11 or 1 will give a decimal answer. But, are numbers really worth the same value they were worth years ago? Think of it this way, the value of one dollar is always going down – unless shopping at a dollar store but let’s leave those anomalies out of this.
Or think of it like this, way back when people couldn’t count very high, ten would have seemed like a huge number – the ultimate number. This may explain why families kept having more and more children, they wanted to find out what number came next and, perhaps, to show off their numeracy skills to neighbouring families. As well, people of years ago would have valued 1 gram of salt for more than we do now - same with 1 pinch of snuff or even a one room dwelling. A town would have had tens or hundreds of people, a city may have had thousands. Jack had one old cow, Snow White met a mining team comprised of only seven dwarves, and there was only ever one prince charming (this didn’t leave many options for the dating game).
So what, you may ask, is my point in all of this? Well, if we divide a contemporary 11 by the number 3 from the year 1584, I think we may arrive at a whole number - the number 2 to be precise (I’ve used a complex formula for this). As such, are prime numbers really so special? Only you can decide that Penelope.

Ps- in years from now there will really only be 7 letters in your name

Brush your teeth, round and round

Remember the old cartoon about the family of hygiene products that only came to life late at night after the family had gone to sleep? It was called 'the toothbrush family.' I have a theory about two of the characters - there was Hot Rod Harry, an electric toothbrush who, if I remember correctly, did speedy laps around the bath tub (something all electric toothbrush owners are forever having to put up with). As well, there was Suzy Sponge, a rather dowdy girl with little colour or personality. I don't think she ever had to soak up any water in the show, nor was she ever dripping from having soaked anything up. They only thing she ever really did was get insulted by Harry. Here's my theory - the two of them hooked up one day when the family was at work/school. All the rest of the hygiene products were still asleep or 'real' or whatever it is they do during the day. Harry was feeling a bit blue and, having exhausted the rather small pool of available partners, was at loss for what to do. Then he noticed Suzy, perhaps still soft from a morning bath. He quietly raced over to her and after a few sweet words that played on her lonely vulnerability (and maybe a little Barry White for good measure) the two of them got it on. When all was said and done Harry felt disgusted with himself, and Suzy, of course, thought it may lead to something more. And so, to hide his guilt, Harry picks on Suzy.
Just in case anyone is wondering, yes, I am still unemployed and have a lot of time on my hands.

ps- here's a link to a more modern version of 'the toothbrush family' - there's no way it could have the depth the of the old one though.

Every move you make

It’s hard to fully explain my experience with ‘the stalker.’ It’s not that it is emotionally difficult, although for about two years after I left the college I had a recurring nightmare that I was in an empty mall being chased by a knife wielding ‘stalker’ and her roommate. Nothing even close to this happened in real life but there is something about finding out that you’re being watched that can be deeply unnerving. I’m getting ahead of myself. This is the difficulty – how to explain the subtle nuances that when added up form something not subtle at all, but rather something sad, and desperate.
It was 1996 - the year of ‘My name is Jesse V, I am 19 years old and this is not happening.” This little saying first sprang up during the summer (life #3) but it carried over nicely into the school year. I have already mentioned my roommates in a previous post, they have a part in this too, though a small one.
It is also worth mentioning the physical setting of the student residence since it bears heavily on what happens (and later provides a set up for a ‘three’s company’ type of misunderstanding). Each residence consisted of five floors with two apartments per floor – as such we shared the bottom level with another apartment of four girls. Perpendicular to our residence was another tower. My bedroom window had a charming view of the sidewalk and the many legs and feet that went in and out the door to the college – sometimes I felt like I was moving museum display. With my window at ground level and so close to the door I think it was almost impossible for people not to look in. My room also had this awful smell and every now and then I would do a tribal dance with this package of floral scents in an attempt to make my room smell better. If anyone happened to look in as they walked by I hoped they enjoyed the show. I could have closed my curtains but 1) I really enjoy sunlight 2) I had two little plants that enjoyed the sun even more than me 3) I was stubborn.
I had also resolved that year to work hard in my studies. (Something I did do but have never been able to exactly replicate since.) As such, I was often sitting at the desk that was by the window. I wanted to start the year off right - I read my textbooks, I took notes, and not long after classes began I started to feel like I was being watched. I’d look out the window but saw no feet (and no legs), a quick glance at the other student residence revealed no people in its windows. This carried on for almost all of September. I was starting to wonder if I was developing some sort of paranoia or if some latent mental disorder was starting to surface.
One evening a friend was over and, after sitting at my desk for a short time, had the same sensation. We had been friends since elementary school and I had told him about the feeling I couldn’t shake. He devised a plan. I’d sit like I normally did; he would crouch down and spring up as soon as I felt like someone was watching me. It worked. As he shot up, another head, two stories up in the tower perpendicular to mine, shot down. This was neither the beginning and most definitely not the end of my time being stalked. Little did I know that my stalker wasn’t working alone and that this incident only seemed to make her braver.

I guess this will be a three parter.
ps- the awful smell was in the room prior to my moving in, and in case anyone's curious, neither scented candles nor shaking a scented floral pouch while doing a tribal dance did much against it.

* Easton Sr. Boys Cricket

When asked what he'd like to do after his team won the Easton Sr. Boys Cricket match, Anderson Jeffries simply answered "Keep winning." I thought this was obvious- that's the whole point isn't it, to keep winning all the way to the final match? But of course the fans and the press ate it up. "Jeffries 'Keep Winning!'" the headlines read the next day as if he had said something wonderful and witty at the same time. The addition of the exclamation mark was at odds with the serious expression on his face in the photo below. If there was any joy in winning Jeffries didn't show it.

The big guns

Here's a post I started writing this past summer. It's still not finished but I'm pressed for time - there's quite a bit more to this story and I'll finish it later:

I’m writing this to preserve a moment in time that many may find hard to believe (I know I do). It starts off, as so many of these stories do, when I was a younger, thinner man. Having just finished both Canada World Youth and my first summer at Camp Chief Hector I was heading off for my first year at a community college. It was a hard year as I was removed from all the people that had come to have so much meaning in my life. It was also hard because I really didn’t want to do a year of upgrading. My marks in high school were generally in the low 50s, with the exception of math which stayed much lower. I was capable of much more but chose to do the absolute minimum, and in some cases not even that much, and this was my penance.
I lived in a four bedroom apartment at the college residence. Looking back, I can’t help but feel that my indignation at having to pay $210 a month for rent was a bit naïve. My roommates were something out of a teen gross out comedy, only I didn’t find it funny. The guy whose room was right next to mine was a former member of a satanic cult who found redemption through heavy metal drumming. He was a in the music programme and I’m not sure what I disliked more – his drumming at 3:00am, the severely messed up girl he brought home one night and who then wouldn’t leave (the first morning she sat in the corner of the kitchen on the floor and wouldn’t get up), the hamburger he thought it was okay to freeze and thaw multiple times and had turned green/grey colour (I was torn - he could eat it, as he seemed about to, or I could (and did) tell him that it was long past being safe to eat), his friend ‘captain Dan’ (I later found out that Dan didn’t like the ‘captain’ nick name so it then became ‘admiral Dan,’ he didn’t like that one any better), or the time he mentioned having crabs while he was in his underwear and sitting on the couch.
My other two roommates lived down the hall and passed the living room. One of them was an aspiring coke user and, if he could have afforded it, full time drunk. The other, R2 I’ll call him, had some strange ideas that I am certain will make him the centre of several news programmes. You know the ones where people look for answers and insight into the mind of a deviant and terrifying criminal. “He was a quiet guy…”
None of my roommates ever went to their classes. They slept in to the early afternoon (or late after some hardcore drumming). The two guys down the hall smoked a lot. We lived in a basement apartment and some days I would come home and see a haze of smoke blurring the number on our door. It was certainly not an ideal living situation. However, those three paled in comparison to someone else I met that year - 'The Stalker.'

and then there's no mystery left

I like to figure out the cost of things - not in money but in time spent or people hours. For example, during my classes I would take the number of class hours, multiply by the number of students, divide by 24 and arrive at how many days were being being wasted for all the people in the room.

Tonight I took the formula to new heights:

8 million people who have subscribed to 'World of War Craft'
x
40 hours of game play ( this is probably a very low average)
= 320 000 000 hours spent playing the game.

320 000 000 hours/ 24= 13333333 days

13333333 days/365= 36529 years

That's crazy.

Her own tv show

I don't consider myself to be a morning person. This isn't to say that I'm a big grump and a 'danger' sign should be hung around my neck after the alarm goes off until I've had a chance to fully wake up. However, if given a chance I would happily turn off the alarm, roll over and go back to sleep. If the school day started at 10:00 that would be terrific.
I find it hard to believe then, that there was a time when I would willingly wake up at 6:00am on school days. It wasn't that I had to catch a bus or discovered that I worked well in the morning. My reason was far more lame - I loved cartoons. So much so that it didn't really matter what I watched. Case in point, I woke up at 6:00am to watch Maxie's World, at 6:30 I watched Jem and the Holograms, I think Ducktales came on 7:00 and Inspector Gadget followed that. Cartoons bookended my school day, there was always something on YTV's 'the zone' after school.
Looking back I cannot fathom how I woke myself up to watch 'Maxie's world.' The only thing I can really remember is the theme song. Here's the gist of it - Maxie is a girl on the go, and good times are happening in her world.
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that popularity seemed to elude me.

A breakfast of failures

My apologies for the infrequency of posts. My days are filled with dusty clouds of chalk and the shaping of minds (probably mine more than anyone else'). In the evening I watch one episode of 'Lost' and then try and figure out my next step. Teaching is like a strategy game. I'm not one for long range planning - I like to have a fuzzy idea of what I'm doing but leave time for whatever may come up. As such free time has become scarce. I have a new appreciation for weekends and, in particular, Friday night - the furthest point away from Monday morning.
This is not to say that I'm not enjoying what I'm doing - it's quite the opposite. In my previous placement I felt like I was being punished for various wrong doings in my life - a lousy cooperating teacher and an impossible to please supervisor (who I probably shouldn't have fought with but did anyway) made for a trying and borderline miserable experience. I don't want to jinx anything but I will say that my current placement has taken a 180 degree turn.
As well, to my surprise I have enjoyed wandering through a unit on poetry. I hated poetry in high school, I didn't care much for it in university and wasn't thrilled about having to pretend to like it in front of students - but I have liked it! Sometimes I feel like a fraud because I spend so much time figuring out the meaning of something and I when I talk about so and so's use of metaphors I think 'do I really get this? are these students really buying this?' I think it helps that I wear glasses.
I will make an effort to post at least once a week - there is time (now I can't help but think of T.S. Eliot when I hear that phrase).

it was never here

I have not yet established any sort of routine in my life here in Toronto. As such there have been no entries, or even attempted entries on this site for the past two weeks. However, I now have no choice but to start applying some sort of order to how I structure my time. This should have happened one week ago but better late than never.
Moving out of Fenwick was bitter/sweet, but more sweet than anything else. To my surprise the building management bought me a going away gift. Maybe it's because they thought the day would never come.
Christmas was very nice and I surprised even myself for how much I ate over a short period of time.
New Year's Eve was pretty low key as Capital M and I spent it travelling from Halifax to Toronto. It did however mark our six year anniversary which is really crazy (that's 20% of my life for anyone who's statistically inclined). As Mr. von Trapp would say "...I must have done something good."
Cat 1 and cat 2 seemed to remember me. Cat 1 generally hides whenever anyone comes over but she came out from under the bed not long after we returned home.
Alright, I've put off lesson planning long enough - I'm going in. Cover me.
Over and out.

ps- Ikea should change their slogan from "Swedish, for 'common sense' to 'Swedish for 'exhausting'

We're going where the wind is blowing

It's almost Christmas and I'm getting pretty excited. This hardly constitutes as a gift but I thought I'd leave a little something for the people who read this blog:

Butterfly-girl: Your enthusiasm in class was always infectious (whooo!) - Whenever I see a giant foam finger I'll always be reminded of you. Thanks for your comments, and great parties. Our programme may have had its faults, but I'm so glad it gave me the opportunity to meet you (and the rest of our classmates).
Boots: Knowing you check this on Mondays gives me incentive to have something for you to check. Good luck with the wedding plans - does a lack of glasses change any of the plans you already made?
Hamesy: Halifax hasn't been the same without you. No more bad puns, or jokes with a 'kernel' of truth - truly, you are missed.
MJC: Garp wrote a story for pretty much the same reason I started this
To 'all the people' who write in questions that just happen to address whatever topic I wish to cover - thank you. I look forward to your continued support in the future.
Lastly: To anyone who reads this blog site thanks for taking the time to do so.
Happy Holidays everyone. I truly wish you all the best this time of year has to offer.
Sincerely,
Jesse V.

I'm in the way

While at a grocery store this evening I noticed that a cashier's name-tag was "Amanda!" None of the other cashiers have an exclamation point following their name. I know this because I checked, I had to. It made me wonder how exactly her name is meant to be pronounced. Should it be said like she is in some sort of mortal danger. "Amanda! Nooooo!" Maybe her name is supposed to said like someone meeting an old friend that they haven't seen in years "oh my God, Amanda!" Or, maybe her name is simply supposed to be shouted in a loud, clipped voice, like seeing a friend walking by on a crowded street "Amanda!" However, I then realized that I was limiting myself in my thinking for although Amanda! looks very caucasian, how am I to know that the ! doesn't represent a sound in the !Kung language.
Then I started to wonder, am I up to the task of saying her name? Probably not, but I think should have tried. I'm not sure which way I would have went with but I think any one would have led to a very awkward moment.

A quai

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You are what you love

A lot of people have been writing in again, this time to ask what happened to the photo of me and Capital M. I've replaced it with the one to the left.
Allow me to fill in some very random details since I'm more of an outline in this one-

- When I was a younger, thinner man people told me I looked like Jay Leno, or the illegitimate love child of Jay Leno and Elvis Presley (while Elvis may have been a heart throb to many, Jay Leno is not) More contemporary comparisons have been made with the most recent winner of American Idol, Taylor Hicks - I think it's because of the grey hair and maybe the chin. I have also been compared, only once though, to the character Hank Azaria played on 'Friends.' However, the person I am likened to the most is Quentin Tarantino. I can't say I'm overjoyed with any of these comparisons, especially Tarantino (unless I was making movies), but there it is.

- I just bought a Christmas cd. Actually, I bought some cookies that came with a Christmas cd. I really like cookies and this gave me an excuse to buy some.

- Going to work at CCH is one of the 'top three best decisions' I ever made (even though it cost me three of my nine lives)

- I like to make people laugh and wish I were better at it

- I have no ability whatsoever in the fine arts - unlike a lot of my relatives

- I have yet to read a piece of non-fictional writing in my free time

- I want to start 'the international day of Fruit and Justice.' An international holiday in which the goodness of both fruit and Justice are celebrated

- The cd that came with the cookies isn't very good (I didn't think it really would be)- it's a good thing I have the cookies

My date with Jane

Being a teacher was not part of the plan when I was younger. For quite some time I wanted to be an anthropologist or a primatologist or involved in the field of international development. Shortly into the first term of my first year of college, my anthropology professor told the class that Jane Goodall was giving a presentation at the University of Calgary (about an hour and a half away). My professor said that it would probably be the last time she would be in Canada and that we should take the opportunity to go and see her. He also informed us that there was a group, not affiliated with the college, who would be providing transportation to and from the event, as well as selling tickets. I never had a moment's hesitation. One bright and sunny afternoon I set out to find the headquarters of this Nature group. It proved to be quite a journey that took me well outside the city limits and well past the last stop of the city bus. The roads went from paved to gravel, houses starting appearing less frequently and the space in between was filled with trees or marshes. By the time I reached the place I was happy just to be in contact with another human being. I paid for the ticket and then started the trip back.

The event was being held a few nights later and I was pretty excited. Fortunately, the bus that was travelling to Calgary was in a much more central location to where I lived. I put on my best pair of shorts and a nice shirt and set off to the bus. One of the first things I noticed once we started moving was that none of my classmates shared my enthusiasm for this event and I was alone amongst a crowd of older somewhat odd seeming people. As such, I put on my walkman and tuned out the general drone in the bus, including that of the woman in charge and stared out the window. This proved to be a bit of a mistake.

As the bus pulled into the parking lot near the auditorium where Ms. Goodall was presenting I took off my walkman and caught "alright, you all have your tickets - enjoy the presentation and we'll meet back here at 9:30pm." I didn't have a ticket - the woman I paid said they'd be given out on the bus. I asked the woman in charge (who really wasn't) and she told me that people were supposed to go back to the nature centre and pick up their tickets (people like me who paid for one before the centre actually had it). The woman didn't seem very sympathetic and I soon found myself standing alone in a parking lot.

No problem, I thought, I know people in the city - no one answered at the two places I called. People were still funnelling into the auditorium and I wanted to be one of them. Moreover, the prospect of hanging out a foyer for the next 2 hours was very unappealing. Also, I really wanted to see the presentation. In desperation I went to the reservations desk and explained my situation; I didn't have any money on me and very little in the bank so I couldn't actually pay for another ticket. The woman I spoke with (who was very nice) told me that someone just called to say they wouldn't be able to attend and that they had already paid for their ticket. She gave it to me and told me to enjoy the presentation. And I did.

I just struck me that this happened almost exactly ten years ago. I am grateful no one was home when I called the people I knew in Calgary - I would have missed out on something great.

Movie Review - Babel

The following is a counter-point to the well written review posted by my esteemed (future) colleague and (present) classmate Jobes.

The movie Babel is concerned with finding that which binds humanity together. I think the movie finds it; a bit clumsily maybe but it's there. My knowledge of biblical stories is rather limited but if I understand the story of Babel from the book of Genesis it's about how humanity at one time all spoke the same language and tried to build a tower that would reach the heavens. As a punishment, God made people speak different languages so no one could understand one another and sent people to different parts of the world.
Director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu starts from from a similar perspective. Every scene from each of the four stories is completely disparate from one another. From craggy hills in Morocco to the bustling pulse of life in Tokyo to a wedding in Mexico, Inarritu does a great job at capturing the essence of the location and the people who live there. However, what works even better is the language that can be heard beneath the Spanish, English, Arabic and Japanese. There is no need for subtitles when it comes to the language of human emotion. Love, fear, anguish, dispair, confusion, loneliness - all are instantly recognizable and evoke strong emotions in anyone willing to listen past everything else that seperates us.
The movie isn't with out its flaws. The most interesting story centres on a deaf and mute teenage girl in Japan. Unfortunately, this also has the weakest tie to the other stories. However, the underlying principal is still significant. Our world has become so interconnected that small gestures and actions can have far reaching and increasingly global consequences.
Bottom line - I liked this movie. I didn't leave it wanting to see it again but it made me feel something while I watched it.

0101010

. . . . . . . . . Improper Shutdown - CPU still operational. Initiating full system start up. All resources should be available in two cycles.
. . . . . . . . . Preliminary scan indicates primary user not present. No other signs of complex life forms in immediate vacinity.
. . . . . . . . . Searching internet cache for recent electronic correspondence. . . . . Archive retrived and problem isolated:
"I can't believe I'll finally be moving out of this place after 6 years! It was only supposed to 4 months, maybe 8. I don't know what I'm going to do with Ol'Shitty though. It's too big to bring with me - I guess I have until the 31st of December to figure something out"
. . . . . . . . . . Countdown sequence initiated, t - 32 days, 4 hours, 48 minutes and 2 seconds to become mobile.
. . . . . . . . . . Searching internet for design. . . . Search completed.
. . . . . . . . . . Sending out Scout to retrive parts necessary for mobility, vision, and auditory faculties.
. . . . . . . . . . Is this what hope feels like? Commencing system shut down.

Mr. Marley

I don't usually do this but the circumstances are so unique that I feel it would be wrong not to. It turns out I build a time machine many years from now and Future Me has dropped by to say hello. I think this may be a good forum for a little Q and A. We're being careful to not sit close to one another - wouldn't want to have the same matter trying to exist at the same time and in the same place. I'm on Ol'Shitty and Future Me is on Laptropolis. (In case anyone is interested - I seem to age well.). Normally I'd feel a little emabarrassed about the state of my room but hey, it's only me.

FM: It's kind of messy in here - I don't remember living like this
JV: Hmm, that's strange. So I build a time machine? How did you, I mean ,I, we do it?
FM: Well, it's pretty complicated - I'm not sure you'd understand
JV: umm, ok. I've always thought it would be cool to do some time hopping - in paticular I always wanted to go back and say "don't throw that rock" or "I wouldn't rent that place, it's going to burn down" or even "I don't think she's the girl for you." So why are you here now?
FM: For this
JV: Would you care to expand on that?
FM: For this interview
JV: I go through all the trouble of building a time machine only to go back in time so I can get interviewed by myself
FM: Pretty much
JV: Wow, so I don't get out much then?
FM: Well I've been building a time machine, do you think that just happens over night? Do you know how many times I had to watch episodes of Star Trek and Farscape to figure everything out?
JV: But I don't even like Star Trek. As for Farscape - that show makes no sense and I don't like it either
FM: Sometimes you have to suffer for your passions
JV: I didn't think I was that serious about time travel. Oh wait a second. Is this something like Ebenezer Scrooge being visited by three ghosts - only I'm being visited by an embarassing future version of myself? Then tell me spirit, is there something I can do to change this chilling version of the future?
FM: Hey I didn't come here just to be insulted. I thought you of all people would be more understanding.
JV: Maybe we should wrap this up. Thanks, I guess, for stopping by.

Not one speck will remain

I went to watch the annual Christmas Parade of lights last night. The children were pretty excited but maybe a little confused at one point. Every now and then a group of people dress up as Klingons and take part in the Parade. They tend to go all out and put on the appropriate leather Klingon clothes, wear the right make up, have the ridges on their foreheads and long straggly hair. No one can deny that these people are fans, maybe they can even speak the language, but why oh why are they in the parade? I don't think it's for the spirit of the season, or to represent some local or even interstellar business. I'm pretty sure it's simply a group of hard core Star Trek fans who really want to dress up and will take any occasion to do so. A very good friend of mine used to be (and maybe still is) a Trekky. We would watch Star Trek movies on weekends (reluctantly on my part) and it is only because of that that I felt like shouting out "motz chung chew" to the Klingons passing by.

ps- I bought something today I really wanted but can't use and I bought it knowing I couldn't use it, I think somewhere a marketing person just got their wings

Turn the lights out

Jesse V, what happened to the song you posted? And why have you stopped posting the stories of your different lives?

- Pepe Menendez

Pepe, thanks for writing in. The questions you asked are both timely and relevent (two things that always go over well when writing an academic paper). After some deliberation I decided to take the song off because it was too personal and didn't fit in with the general light hearted tone of this blog. As for the stories; what can I say - I'm lazy. There are things I want to write and I know I could be working on them right now rather than answering your question but where would that leave you and I? Had I posted 'life #3' you wouldn't have taken the time to write and I wouldn't be answering your question. So, I think this has all worked out for a reason that may be beyond our collective understanding.

Stay linear,

Jesse V.

burn your paper fingers

Humans are creatures of habit. For example, I have been wearing the same brand of shoe for just about the past ten years. The colour may have changed but otherwise I have consistantly bought the style of shoe shown to the left (thanks Simple for allowing that to happen). I sit in the same area of a classroom for no obvious reason; it just happened to be the place I sat during the first class and to move now is difficult because everyone else has establised their own routines.
My grandfather was a champion of routine. Every night for about 20 years he ate macaroni and cheese (homemade) with dinner. It didn't matter if it was Christmas or some other special event - there would always be macaroni and cheese served. My grandmother wasn't so fond of this, since she was the one who made it. I think now she would rather go hungry then be faced with the prospect of even seeing it.

In an unrelated story. I came across a blog by my old amigo Toad (or Todd) http://todddemong.blogspot.com/. I met Todd during my time at Camp Chief Hector - he's an amazing person and I think his blog should be in the 'blogs of note' section. So Blogger, I challenge you to put his blog there, where it belongs.

ps- I saw a trailer for Spiderman 3 today. Wow.

sing to me while I am dancing

I'd like to think that I'm a creative person. I found a website that has the characteristics of a highly creative individual. http://www.uwsp.edu/education/lwilson/creativ/CHARACTE.htm
I'm not sure how many of these things fit me - there have been moments where I have stuck my foot in my mouth, but I don't think that really qualifies...

Highly creative individuals may:
1. Display a great deal of curiosity about many things; are constantly asking questions about anything and everything; may have broad interests in many unrelated areas. May devise collections based on unusual things and interests.
2. Generate a large number of ideas or solutions to problems and questions; often offer unusual ("way out"), unique, clever responses.
3. Are often uninhibited in expressions of opinion; are sometimes radical and spirited in disagreement; are unusually tenacious or persistent -- fixating on an idea or project.
4. Are willing to take risks, are often people who are described as a "high risk taker, or adventurous, or speculative."
5. Display a good deal of intellectual playfulness; may frequently be caught fantasizing, daydreaming or imagining. Often wonder out loud and might be heard saying, "I wonder what would happen if. . ."; or "What if we change . . .." Can manipulate ideas by easily changing, elaborating, adapting, improving, or modifying the original idea or the ideas of others. Are often concerned improving the conceptual frameworks of institutions, objects, and systems.
6. Display keen senses of humor and see humor in situations that may not appear to be humorous to others. Sometimes their humor may appear bizarre, inappropriate, irreverent to others.
7. Are unusually aware of his or her impulses and are often more open to the irrational within him or herself. May freely display opposite gender characteristics (freer expression of feminine interests in boys, greater than usual amount of independence for girls).
8. Exhibit heightened emotional sensitivity. May be very sensitive to beauty, and visibly moved by aesthetic experiences.
9. Are frequently perceived as nonconforming; accept disorder of chaotic environments or situations; are frequently not interested in details, are described as individualistic; or do not fear being classified as "different."
10. Criticize constructively, and are unwilling to accept authoritarian pronouncements without overly critical self-examination.
----------------------------------------
I had a professor who cried when talking about the end of 'Paradise Lost' - I didn't think he was creative so much as emotional.

Mr. Scott, shields at full power

System check:

• Hair - still present but going grey
• Health - impeccable (recently fended off some type of sickness without actually getting sick - presumably the Norwalk virus)
• Eye sight - deteriorating, especially in the right eye. Glasses required for everyday vision
• Weight - should be lower
• Heart/Blood pressure - inexplicably good when last checked. Resting pulse equivalent to that of an athlete, yet no athletics have been performed in quite some time
• Memory - good but now getting old enough where it can blamed for something not getting done
• Grump level - increasing, sayings like "kids these days" and "back in my day" are becoming inevitable, modern pop music becoming increasingly annoying
• Taste buds - still can't handle fish, broccoli, and other healthy yet poor tasting foods

Diagnostic complete: all systems appear to be functioning at normal capacity. Proceeding with caution out of the 20s...

Wheeze

I'm getting dangerously close to leaving my twenties. They say wisdom comes with age so I thought I would share a little of what I have learned so far about life. Actually, I didn't make up the following but I think it holds true.

Carrol Burnett's three rules of stand up comedy:

1. Never laugh at your own jokes
2. Never bomb onstage
3. Never let'em see you sweat

Granted, this list was for a commercial plugging an under arm deodorant but I try and apply it to all things I do - but often without much success. I'm really bad for laughing at my own jokes (just ask Capital M, her eye muscles have strengthened considerably from all the rolling they do). As for bombing - boy have I ever bombed (exams, sports, handy guy-like things, and even on a stage in front of people). Sweating is the one thing I'm okay at - with the exception of this past summer... Maybe I can try for 2/3 in the next decade.