Well hand me a joint and call me a boarder

Yesterday I had my first crack ever trying out snowboarding. 'Crack' does seem to be a good word for it. I'd always been told that it's very hard to learn, but what I hadn't realized was that they meant it's hard to get back on your feet again after hitting the ground - hard. But I did - and I did - only to add fresh bruises to the existing internal bleeding in my backside a half hour later. I can say that I have some seriously rumpled tail feathers today but I can also say that I managed to learn the basics before calling it a wrap for 2007. Now I understand when boarders get labeled as potheads - the judicious use of marijuana would help give the perseverance to keep going when your body wishes it were dead.
It's particularly daunting to start from zero when three days prior I was doing any run and every run on skis. On Boxing Day, I was standing at the top of the aptly named Elevator Shaft looking straight down (at the eagles soaring amongst the clouds below) with no choice but to go down or to climb back up the hill to the last fork with my skis on my shoulder (the walk of shame). After many minutes of deliberation, I chose to go downwards. When I conquered that fear (we would have needed a crowbar to pry the poles out of my hands during that white-knuckler), I felt like I could do anything this province has to offer. But yesterday, looking down just the little Bunny Hill with my feet shackled to one plank, I once again knew the fear of God.
I can really see the appeal - once I got the basics down, I really started to enjoy it. But I think this dog is too old to learn new tricks and to take the many bangs involved on the learning curve. Once I can stand upright again maybe I'll consider revisiting snowboarding. I just hope that I don't crack my skull open before even getting to Whistler in a couple months!

All I want for Christmas

That time of the year has managed to sneak up on me once again. I managed to escape the fateful question until last week when Hannah asked me, "so what do you want for Christmas?" I hadn't yet thought about what this year's answer to that question would be but as I was on stage at the time and couldn't afford to stand there looking stumped, I came up with, "I want one show where I don't mess up." She told me that I would get my wish that very day. She was spectacularly wrong.
Why is it that I should have to make up some silly wish list every year just because nobody believes the truth when I tell them? Seriously, there isn't anything in particular I want to get. All I want is to spend some time with people I care about and maybe eat lots of food. When I tell people that's what I want, the reply is always, "OK, but what do you want to get? What do you want to unwrap?" Nothing. Some people go shopping and everything they see they want to have. When I go shopping, I find it difficult to find anything that resonates.
So I usually make up some absurd wish list. One year, that got me into a spot of trouble though. Someone wouldn't stop bothering me about it, so I turned to her and told her I wanted a wife for Christmas. Unfortunately, a third party overheard this and volunteered for the job. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice stated the obvious - well Rue, once more you've created the makings of some good old-fashioned trouble. If anyone knows how girls are when left among their own little clubs, it can be understood how within a few days there was suddenly a whole fleet of girls planning a ceremony. Oh yes, that seed of concern that had been planted when she burst out, "I'll marry you!" was now in full bloom. They were going to get the chaplain to perform a ceremony in the chapel right after the end of exams. Yes, I believe he would have done it too - after all, he did perform a wedding for two dogs... Fortunately as I recall it was weather, and revised schedules that rendered the appointment untenable.
Unfortunately, this gave the girlies more time to get even more creative and elaborate with a revised date. Now, I'm not one to habitually cower from embarrassingly silly situations, but I had a problem. Marriage was and is a pretty serious thing to me, moreover giving vows. I didn't want to get into a situation where I was gang-pressed into giving and receiving vows that neither of us intended to keep. I tried to explain in a sensitive manner that it really wasn't personal when I called it off, and she said she completely agreed. Turns out she was pretty hurt by that and didn't understand at all.
Somehow we still became pretty good friends a good while later, but still today she says she can't understand my unease with the direction her friends had taken it.
Moral of the story: don't say you want something absurd if any attempts to grant it can lead to compromising situations.
So this year I will not be flippant; I'll just tell it as it is, take it or leave it. I don't want anything that comes in a box. Just give me a smile or a friendly word. Of course, if anyone could explain my life to me, that would be alright by me too. That would be alright...

Jus' Fohgeh Abow Ih Maaan

Some days it seems like nothing is going right. The traffic conspires against you, work is daunting, your department snubs you for their Christmas lunch...
Such days call be a tub of the fattiest Liberte yogurt poured over fresh blueberries. Then you can just forget about it all and everything is alright once more.

Got Snow?

It looks like the concert season is going to go into overtime now. My last concert of the season has been postponed until next Sunday due to some very nice weather.
In light of that, I think the only reasonable thing to do with all the free time now would be to build a snowman!

It's complicated...

"Hey Rue..."
"What's up?"
"Y&R just called and they want their plot back."

I'd say life is complicated but that would be a little too trite to do it justice.
I think it's time to simplify life down to the lowest common denominator. Ski, skate, drink, repeat. Last night I had my first skate of the season. I had an entire rink to myself for a while and then shared it with a few kids. It's nice to have all that space, but it's also nice to have someone with whom you can share it.

This is Christmas - Aftermath

Another year has gone and another flurry of Christmas shows is over. It's still sinking in and I'm afraid when it finally does fully sink in, I won't be able to stop crying.
From the time the lights came up on Friday when a cast and a room full of hundreds held its breath in anticipation of an expectant Christmas. From the end of the show Friday walking the back hall among applauding crew members. In the few moments I caught a glance of the stage and saw the amazing lighting and dancers having a great time. In all the moments even a self-conscious guy could lose himself in the moment - to forget worrying about looking dumb, to forget the thousands of onlookers, to share a moment with God alone. In all the laughs and fears over a 50 hour interval. To the time when the house lights came up on Sunday and realization crashed into place that there wouldn't be another. In all those moments almost believing this is where I belong.
My coworker told me today that his daughter wanted to know if I had a girlfriend. She may be pleased to know that it was only on stage that I had one, but she may be disappointed to hear that eight years is little too young for me. Isn't that just the way of it...
Now that it's all done it seems like I have to find a new hobby. But the Christmas festivities are not quite done yet. Next weekend will be the final concert of the season for the chorale I just joined. I realized after the last one that I joined so late that I've been to more of their concerts than rehearsals. But since the first one, they've been pretty fun experiences. From the voice of Dave who has proven himself a natural communicator in music to young teen aged violinist who can play the instrument better than I ever will with less than half the experience. The director of that chorale came to the show last night and he didn't say I was off the team, so it looks like I'll have my fifth straight concert weekend.

Show week

This is the last week before the annual huzzah where I have started a tradition of appearing on stage and making a fool of myself.
Day one of show week has come and gone in style. It's after 2am and I'm thinking about skipping my meeting first thing in the morning. I went last week after all.

I have decided that my three best friends this week shall be (in no particular order):
-Vitamin C
-Vitamin B
-Caffeine

I just realized that I just had my one year anniversary on this blog. I know, this a pretty poor showing for it. Next year, I'll come up with something really good.

Dali cuje te sve djecje molitve?

Can you hear the prayer of the children on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room?
-Kurt Bestor

Sometimes all this world has to offer is too much, and yet never enough. Everything we want under the sun is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. And in the race, life draws out and time threshes you out under its inexorable gears and wheels.

Sometimes all the tears in the world are not enough, and one is more than you can find. Cold, you want to drive your car into a wall just so that you can feel something.

Sometimes you have to wrestle with God before you can find some reality in life.

Where is Your justice? When will You grant comfort to those who mourn?
The arrogant gain all the acclaim while they crush the most beautiful.
Under the weight of words and neglect, they are choked,
Slowly, relentlessly, even obliviously, without concern.
They isolate the lonely and accuse the righteous,
Who find only rejection and contempt.
But I can see
The fingerprints of God.

A bruised reed he will not break and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. But how long will You leave the reed bruised? Does it not wish instead that You would just break it and end the suffering - with nothing to hold but a hope for a time when it can again stand upright?

* * *

How long O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.

When the music's done, it's time to go home

The director of the chorale I just joined approached me after the concert and wanted to tell me that my voice makes such a difference to the section. I wanted to know whether that difference was for the better or the worse and he told me he'd leave it to my imagination. And then the cheeky blighter told the general surroundings, "I reckon this guy is a bit of a wag." Well, I guess I should be pleased that I have been able to convey to him what I'm all about in such a short period of time.
But they've invited me to stay on for another round in the spring anyway. But before that, we have three more concerts to go. I was pleased to find that today's went off pretty well. I had been worried after the less-than-stellar showing last weekend, and the tickets for today's were pretty expensive.

Let's talk about random

People keep accusing me of being methodical, whether it be in my actions or the things that I write. They think that everything is coming from something or has some specific purpose. I guess I just have that kind of face. Alright, it may be the case a great deal of the time. But sometimes a thought may occur to me and I'll just say it. Honestly, it has nothing to do with anything that had just been said, so stop trying to make a correlation!
h
Now I know there's someone out there who thinks that I'm driving at some deeper meaning right now but if that deeper meaning exists, sometimes not even I am aware of it.
Example.

My brother and I realized at some point that we had the same last name. Only it wasn't the name with which we were born. The thing about working in certain industries is that you'll see a lot of Europeans. This is the case with the company at which I work. One day, we were discussing the different pronunciations of different European languages when it took a practical turn to my last name. The 'W' turned to a 'V' and the 'CE' took on a 'CHAY' sound. Within months, people would only refer to me as Veh-lah-chay.
Turns out, my brother had the exact same nickname years ago. We were both pretty surprised to find we had independently developed the same nickname.
Recently, this Italian guy came up to me and confused me by calling me Versace. I wonder if that will stick...

Today I went a an Oriental buffet. For those who don't like the term and think it's racist, don't get into a huff - it's the actual name of the place. Anyway, my boss and I have decided that we kindof like the place. Good food, good atmosphere. And last month when we went, they charged us for one adult and one child. This of course opened the debate of who was the child. Today, all disputes were settled as to who was the young one. They charged us for two seniors.

While we were at the 'Oriental' buffet today, the Italian guy decided to introduce me to someone I'd met before.
Turns out, I went on an organized tour in Italy with this girl a year and a half ago and we never realized at the time that we worked in the same company. Of course, I had been located in a different city at the time. But still, still it sounds a bit odd. "You went to Italy with her and you didn't know she was your coworker???" She was pretty surprised to hear this news. Yeah that's right. Someone went on the trip of a lifetime with me and didn't even recognize me... Yeah I know, I'm that memorable. Hopefully she will no longer look at me askance for looking at her curiously. I had been sure she was the same person, but her gaze had previously given me no recognition. She probably thought I was a creep for staring.

Finally. It's 3am and I'm just about finished explaining to my PhD in electronics and science house mate the physics of music. And I'm only an undergrad. You may not believe it, but there isn't that much difference between music and physics and Newton. Ask me sometime why a perfect forth or perfect fifth is perfect if you want to hear someone rhapsodize over it. He gobbled it up; to anyone else... it's not pretty.
:P


Goodnight and goodnight.

Wine and Cheese

Here's a blast from the past for anyone out there who lived with me in University.

I came upon an old scrap of paper back from university today. I probably kept it with the foresight that it would one day make me chuckle. It did.
Every year in the fall, one of the guys floors in the college in which I was living would host a wine and cheese party. Tradition dictated that not only would all the ladies in the college have free admission, but they would also all receive personal invitations from one of the guys of the hosting floor. So every year, the names would be split up and every guy on the floor would be responsible for 3-5 invitations - in theory. In theory because not everyone felt comfortable doing it or cared enough to bother. With good cause. Let me illustrate:
In my frosh year, I was assigned two roommates to invite. Time ticked and I didn't come up with any inspiration or courage. Time constraints forced me to go ahead with neither. As I ended up putting together some amusing story that had a moral of "go to the wine and cheese or your ears will fall off," got together some props, dressed up all formal and marched out to do some invites.
My first ever invite was a complete Ktastrophe with a CAPital KAY. The door was closed. I could hear voices. Perfect, they were both there so I could get them both in one shot. I got psyched; I knocked. A girl opened the door. She was on the phone. The roommate wasn't there. I didn't know which one she was.
"Uhhh... hi..."
She looked me up and down. You know the look. I was standing there, a stark stranger dressed pretty formal. At her door. Being a frosh as well, she had no idea what was going on and assumed the worst.
"Can you come back later?"
"Uhhh..."
"Like ten? OK."
Slam.
A half hour later, I was telling someone what happened feeling a bit dumb. He gave me that sympathetic pained expression. "OOOOoh, rejected..."
Ten came and - I can't imagine how but - I found the courage to go back. She wasn't there. But her roommate was. Yeah, I know. So I did my spiel; she laughed at the silly story and said she would go and thanked me for coming out.
"Uhhh... maybe you should just let your roommate know she's invited as well...." Because there was no WAY I was showing my face there again!

A few years later, I found myself living on the same floor at the same time of the year. The assignments came in, but this time I was more ambitious. A few friends and I decided to band together and make up some singing invites. We wrote up some new lyrics to songs like, 'Breakfast at Tiffany's,' 'For the Longest Time,' 'In the Jungle.' All with vocalized instrumentation and harmony. I think we had about a dozen different songs by the end because people started following us around and we didn't want to repeat stuff in front of them. Incidentally, word came back to me around that time that one of the frosh had been pretty creeped out by my invite until she realized that I wasn't actually asking her out. SIGH. It seems like at that point, I made a habit of making girls uneasy with my presence which would be repeated several more times over the years. But I persevered. I think I ended up being involved in some capacity for at least thirty invites. Not to mention the biggest one.
In the middle of a community dinner, I got up and invited one of the girls up to make a little announcement. I sat her down in a chair and sang her an invite on my own in front of about a hundred and fifty people. She still goes on about it four years later. Apparently the cafeteria lady was pretty impressed too. "Hey honey, you made me cry - here have some extra greasy potatoes."

As I recall, the floor went the extra mile and got some tokens to give to the ladies the afternoon of the party. At this point, after having wasted my time doing all of the above, I should have been studying. Instead, I wrote a bunch of stupid poems to offer with the flowers I was to hand out. I remember thinking, boy these pretty much write themselves. But I got a following nevertheless. Though it was probably to watch me make an idiot of myself more than anything. Here are some examples of the awe-inspiring garbage I can propagate:

* * *

As April showers fall softly down
To feed thirsty soil at sunrise
Softly, tenderly, now I drown
In the radiance of your eyes.

* * *

The dark clouds do thunder
The raging oceans swell
The prophets make me wonder
At disasters they foretell
But I won't ever quiver
No I won't even fret
If one smile you would deliver
These things I'd not regret

* * *

I have seen the mighty mountains
The winds on the grassy fields play
I have beheld the vast ocean
Sparkle gold in the sun's ray
I have smelled the blooming flowers
In the rainy month of May
But never did I falter
Till you took my breath away

Les betises de ma vie

In accordance with the general insanities of the season of fall, this weekend shall be no exception.
I must not have been busy enough because in October, I joined another chorale - a longstanding triple-quartet. I have been to only two rehearsals out of five or more spent on this music, and on Saturday, we have our first performance at Peoples. The wife of the director left me a long voice message yesterday kindly asking me to remember to show up. At some point, she turned the corner of reason and started going on about how her husband was telling her what a great addition I've made and what a nice voice I have. I knew then that she had confused me with some other guy. Add to that the fact that Tom keeps saying that without me to lean on, they'd be sunk - when I'm listening to everyone else for the right notes. Sometimes this type of talk worries me. It worries me that they're not just trying to be nice, and everyone actually believes the rubbish they're saying about me and that sooner or later, they'll all realize that I'm actually not that great at all. Meanwhile I struggle to live up to this talent - which doesn't exist at all. Honestly, if people wanted to rave about my talent, they should talk about my talent for causing confusion. And pranks.
Anyway, after that concert, it will be straight out of town for me for a great huzzah with my sister who has just finished chemo and radiation (for the last time we pray). Maybe rough-house with the nephews and niece, to make sure I can still take them all on four on one and to make sure they're good and tired at night. Sunday, I'll provide the entertainment just by going to church out there with my sister and her family. They were all in a flap last time I went there because a pretty pair of eyes was actually paying attention to me. Sometimes, people read too much into nothing - but if living vicariously through my life grants them a little pleasure, then that's alright. They've had a hard enough time that it's nice to give them something about which to smile.

Time for a vacation?

I just unpacked my ski boots tonight and they are sitting here on the living room floor just begging for someone (me) to put them on. Would it be alright if I wore them to work tomorrow?
Tonight, I started firming up plans to go for a ski trip in BC this winter. Have I mentioned that I love winter?

No fear

Remember that slogan which laughed at death and spat in the eye of the devil? I'm strong; I'm invincible. I have no fear. I was interested to see that the definition of courage was to face many different difficulties without fear, or at least without showing it.
But which is more impressive:
To fearlessly perform great acts in the face of opposition, danger or humiliation without a second thought.
Or,
To go forth with great fear and trembling, struggle, fail, despair, dwell on it, turn and confront cowardice, be cognizant of the consequences, persist, conquer - regardless of success or lack thereof?

I guess summer is over...

There's something magical about watching the snow falling among the streetlights at night. Like millions of fireflies bringing beauty and anticipation of changes to come.
I love winter.

That's it...

Alright, I'm going to march right up to Jenny and tell her I'm quitting the show.
How am I supposed to be the IT guy when I can't even get my home network working? But I've just successfully finished building my new computer from the ground up, so maybe there's hope for brighter days in the world of wireless Internet here.
So as an inaugural post on the new computer, I have written a post about nothing.
Good night and best wishes, all you daylight savers. Sleep an extra hour for me while I practice an exercise of futility configuring routers.

Thansk

After sending out emails since Friday, my team lead noticed something odd. Every time someone replied to her, it was in huge font. It would seem that someone went and changed her default font to 28 point and scaled up her signature to match. Then so she wouldn't notice, they changed the default zoom for all emails being composed so that it looked the right size.
She sent me an email today in an effort to see what was going on:
She may have figured her font out, but the "thansk," is still going to get many more miles.
:D


Hi Rue,
This is for testing.
Thansk,

C

I'm Fine

Freaked-out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional.

Sensitive Insensitive
Depressed Anxious Paranoid
Hapless Hopeless Frustrated
Undermined Kicked-about Humiliated Awkward
Disaffected Distracted Discouraged
Broken
Broken-hearted Heartless
Selfish Self-destructive
Changeable Indecisive
Uninspired Unattractive
Untalented Unworthy
Unfriendly Unforgiving
Unrealistic Uncommunicative

But I've never been unloved.
Not because of what I am, but because of what You've done. Not because of what I've done, but because of who You are.

Oops...

Allow me to take my foot out of my mouth.
Rue: Hey! How's the baby doing??
Coworker: Gone.
Rue: [blankly] Gone...?
Coworker: Yes, I had a miscarriage.
Rue: Oh no that's terrible...
Coworker: Yeah, turns out I lost two. They were twins...

What do you say? Somehow 'sorry' just doesn't cut it. I feel like such a scumbag.

Random and Silly

Have you ever thought that if your life were a novel, the readers would pee themselves giggling over the ironies of which the main character was never aware? Sometimes I suspect that my life is the greatest joke I've ever heard. But unfortunately if it is, it's also the joke that nobody got - including myself. I hope that God has a sense of humour because I'd like to think that someone at least can appreciate the comedy.

Until that day, I'll have to be satisfied laughing over the stuff that goes on at work. And anyone who has seen The Office would know that there are many ways to cause mischief at work.

Mischief has a name at my work. And that name is Rue. But its second name is Salty. Salty is the name of my coworker- rather, it's the name I gave him after I couldn't stop him from calling me Sweety. Very strange I know but it turns out that people have a penchant for pet names which led to the creation of a whole fleet of nicknames for people who felt left out. Like, Savoury, Saucey, Spicey, and Sourey. But sadly, today may have been Salty's last day, so in honour of his random ways, today I'll share some random silly stories. In fact the first scene is dedicated to him.

Salty and a Goat Scare
Practical jokes have been a long-standing tradition between Sweety and Salty. He would turn everything on my desk upside down; I would move his desk into the kitchen and vice-versa. He tie wrapped everything at my desk together; I tie wrapped him to his desk. Yesterday, he brought over a bottle of methanol and offered to give me a dollop to go with my coffee. My hand went to cover the cup in time to feel a spray on the back of my hand as he accidentally (and more frightening, unknowingly) gave the bottle a squirt. Well, jokes are all fun and games until someone's on the floor, blind and dying! If he ever comes back to work, retribution will have to be ruthless.

In any case, in light of this sort of tradition it's no surprise that I should always be a bit paranoid about what sort of trouble he would be brewing. I didn't have to wait long after the coffee incident yesterday.

As I was trying to write an email, I found myself diverted:
Rue: [typing] ...heads up that there will be some changes coming down the - goat? Why would that word pop into my mind...? Anyway- [rereading what he had typed] coming down goat pipe?
Rue inspected his keyboard and wondered how the keystroke for the word 'the' could have ended up so wrong.
Rue: Ok, whatever... [furious tapping of the backspace key] the pipe.
A few minutes later, Rue's chuckles broke through the buzz of the office.
Rue: What the block?!? Where did all these goats come from??? SALTY!!! Did you install a virus on my computer!?!?

Turns out it wasn't him, but I figured out that whoever it was set the autocorrect on Office to replace the word 'the' every time it was typed. Computer locking will have to be more strictly observed in the future it seems. Props to the one who thought of that though.

My team lead is going to be pretty confused when she notices that no matter how slowly she types, all her emails will end with,
"Thansk,"

Gossip Central
A little while back after a bunch of people got let go, my team lead disappeared for over a week. During that time, I swear the whole company came by our cube to ask what was going on. Translation: to find out if she got the boot and to speculate on why. During this time I decided that my desk was the centralized location for gossip whether I liked it or not. As a sarcastic response to this, I posted a sign on my wall denoting my area as Gossip Central.
This week, my team lead and I were plotting how to exploit the mill. We came up with a few good ideas for fictitious gossip and how we could spread those stories through the company within two days by planting the seed with a few key people. Maybe that would be a little dishonest, but it would be an interesting experiment.
Yesterday, my manager came by to have a serious discussion with me. It probably wasn't the best time for him to notice the signage which now had grown to include a few more signs along the same theme - furnished by Salty.

"I wanted to talk to... what's this...?" he said looking at the signs. "Okaay," he drawled. "You don't have one for Gossip Girl."
I glanced over at my team lead's empty desk. Did he just refer to her as gossip girl? Then I realized he was talking about a TV show.
While I was deliberating over Gossip Girl, my manager was reading in detail the signs Salty had written. "Gossip is the key to success... share thy secrets... AEGC: All-Engineers Gossip Club" There was an awkward pause.
"Uhhhh... So you wanted to talk to me about something?"

I wonder if my team lead would notice before her next email to my manager if I changed the job title in her mail signature to read, Gossip Girl...

Garbage Police
This company has traditionally been somewhat of a foe to Mother Earth. Let's forget the fact that we produce instruments that draw over 4kWatts a pop and generally run 24/7/365. What really gets me is the waste that would come out of the cafeteria. Styrofoam everything - cups, bowls, plates, cutlery, food. I thought it was a welcome change a few weeks ago when I found out that they had changed to corn-based everything. Along with that came a new composting program to accompany the recently-revamped and confused recycling program.
As a big promo for the new regime, HR set up a station in the cafeteria to educate everyone on 'what goes where.' And to give out free coffee to anyone who stopped by. But I knew the real reason they were there. They set up shop in a key location for policing the garbage bins.
For people buying food out of the cafeteria, the procedure was now quite simple. Everything goes in the compost boxes. For other people, things could be a bit complicated.
It started bright one Monday morning. I heard one story, then three, then seven, and on and on. My team and I have this special relationship where we tease each other to no end, so I'll feel free to pick on her again:

"Hey, Woo. I wen to my othuh desk an I foun my gahbash bean on my chaiwr an stiw fool of gahbash, maaan!"
Apparently the cleaning staff had been instructed not to empty any garbage cans that were incorrectly sorted out but rather to leave a friendly note from "Nicky the composting bin" mascot saying something like this:

"Oops! Looks like you incorrectly sorted your garbage. Please remember in the future..." And it would continue on to remind them how food items all go to centralized bins (always on the opposite side of the building from wherever you happen to be) and also summarized the rules that nobody understood. She asked HR what this was about and they told her she had to sort out everything in the box herself. None of the decomposing contents were her own. Apparently, people are so lazy and confused that they started throwing food into other people's garbage.

Just yesterday, the company started collecting garbage cans from all the desks. There, problem solved - I don't have to install a webcam in my garbage anymore to catch anyone thinking to toss a banana peel in my garbage! It's amazing how far people will go to avoid actually figuring out the system though. The latest trend in the words of my team lead:

"I doan know maaaan, so whatodo? I'm so confuse - I jus take my gahbash home now."

Last week, after being incredibly irritated that one of our vendors built the wrong revision of my $2500 module for the third time in a row, I felt I had to make some sort of statement. A little while later, the lady from procurement came by all upset.

S: Rue, is this yours?!?
Rue: Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about that, but you weren't there. So I left it at your desk with a message.
S: You put it on my chair? In a recycling box?!
Rue: Errrrhm...
S: With this note?!? "Oops, looks like you've placed some garbage into your recycling box. Please be more diligent in the future or disciplinary action will be taken. Signed, HR"
Rue: Hmmm, you know I reckon Nicky would be pretty disappointed with you.
S: You know I took this to HR and gave them what-for over this!?!

At the end of the day, practical jokes just wouldn't be worthwhile without people like her.

Sweet Apothecary

I am sitting here holding a package of drugs. I woke up this morning wishing I could fall straight back to sleep. However despite the fact that I should have felt tired, I did not. Instead I felt like I would be better off dead.
So for the second time in the past few months (in fact, for the second time in my life), I purchased some pain killers. My stubborn nature is crying out not to subscribe to the ways of the stressed-out Acetaminophen gobbling urban bustlers.
But the fact that I'm writing this post with only one eye open suggests that I may not have a very restful weekend otherwise. And I may be lynched if I miss yet another week in the choir.

Dreams for You

I found my election registration card somewhere in all the junk I've yet to unpack. I suppose I should vote tomorrow. It's just difficult to find any enthusiasm when I know my vote will not make a big difference. Even if my vote were the one that decided the next Premier, what difference would that make? At the end of the day, the promises I care about won't be kept anyway. A few more portables will be erected at the local school and more greenhouse gazes will be pumped out.
What difference will I make?
I find myself asking that question about more than the outcome of the election. If I didn't show up to this today or that tonight, would it make a difference to anyone other than myself? I can't say that I ever wanted to impact everyone's life. But I wished I could have mattered to a few.

Do I make a difference to You? So many of the things I want, they don't seem to be what You want. But I can't let go of them. And I can't let go of You. How can I be of any use to You or even to anyone else like that?

It's 1am... Do you know where your keys are?

I'm feeling a bit dumb right now. There are a few possible reasons for this:
1. I may in fact be quite dumb.
2. I accidentally scheduled my move out activities around Thanksgiving. If I want any holiday, I'll have to have everything out by the end of tomor- today I guess it is.
3. I dropped my house keys down the elevator shaft at about midnight. All of them. For both my homes. With three people watching curiously as my cheek was pressed to the floor in the basement, I managed to retrieve them through the judicious use of precision eight-foot-coat-hanger-fishing skills. There was great celebration by all involved (for their part mostly because they were waiting to use the elevator methinks). So as I move out, I found myself in a situation that closely rivaled the time I got trapped in my bedroom soon after moving in.

There have been some good memories and there have been some unpleasant moments. But as I sat on my balcony overlooking the nighttime skyline downtown for what will have been the last time from this location, I couldn't help but reflect upon them. My first place in the real world - done and gone. Where do three years go?

How to avoid packing more junk

I'm never moving again... for the next year.
Yesterday, I moved the heaviest items that I own into my new place. And then I wished I was dead. Especially when I realized that I'd traded one evil for another: no more poorly-serviced elevators, but one very long staircase.... At least it seemed pretty long last night carrying furniture upstairs. Five days left to complete it and there is plenty more junk to be transported - at which I am presently working hard not packing.
For the moment I have two homes (one where the bed is and one where the Internet and food is) but it seems like I have none. Hopefully I'll be settled in by November... 2008.
But today was a good day! A year after being rejected by Mary, I have shown that persistence - normally doesn't - but can pay off. Last year, I was the lanky guy who got the shaft. This year, I've made some progress - I'm the nerdy guy who has a tenuous hold upon the same person. Next year, the world! So there's another reason why stage shows are great: the most ridiculously improbable situations can occur.

Please understand me

"Rue, why are you being so standoffish?"
"What are you talking about - I just got here!"
"Well sit over there with everyone else then."

I'm not aloof! ...But if it were just one person to bring it up, one might dismiss it. When different people say something along the same lines on different days, maybe it's time to take them seriously. So maybe I am a bit. Or a lot.
But it's not my fault - I have a good reason! That's the kind of person I am. If I am to be true to myself, I shouldn't try to be anything else...

No, that's a lie - I know. If I am to be true to myself, I should understand who I am and deal with it accordingly. I could say I withdraw because I'm so frazzled dealing with the reality of moving everything I own within a week on top of adjusting to a new department at work on the backdrop of a thousand other things.
But that's all landscape. It doesn't dictate who you are. The rain falls on us all but we don't all deal with it in the same manner. Some open an umbrella, others run for cover. Some ignore it and keep walking on, others walk faster. Some curse the skies, others dance.
Ok, I may enjoy the occasional walk in the rain, but in the proverbial storm, I'm probably the one who takes cover. I've had the misfortune of being labeled as an idealist - an INFP by Keirsey personality indicator. The article explained to me better than I understood myself how one person who talks to me alone can call me chatty while others who see me in a crowd would say I'm quiet; how I can be bold with a pen yet reticent in person; how rational thought takes a back seat to intuition or how I feel about any given situation. Though I do maintain that listening to the advice of rationals over my own predispositions has typically led to some of the biggest fiasco's of my life.
But one thing to which the article speaks is how people see in an idealist someone who can understand things from their angle and will therefore gravitate towards that one for mediation. People notice someone who seems to care yet doesn't go blabbing everything left and right and they see a confidant. What they don't see is someone who cares too much. At some point, after hearing one too many terrible stories something died inside of me. Withdraw to a safe place and shut off. Or go mad.
So I suppose the first real reason for acting cold is out of an aversion for conflict.
The other reason you might call confidence. Or rather the lack thereof. I certainly have some pretty compelling reasons to feel worthless. But aside from those, nothing will bring you face to face with any lack of confidence as standing on a stage looking like an idiot - incidentally something I've been in the habit of doing lately.
I've discovered a super power you see. I have the ability to become invisible at will... Only it's not through my will that it is manifested, rather it is triggered by the will of anyone else who happens to be around (usually overly-aggressive drivers, but that's a different story). Now some might say that if you have no control over your super power, maybe it's not really so super. That may be true but I've got it all figured out. If you make it look as though you want to disappear when you're about to vanish, everyone will think you're in complete control of that power. Fortunately, I do have full control over the deactivation of the skill. All anyone has to do is make a fool of themselves and they'll immediately have everyone's attention.

One of the reasons I feel that the process of putting together a stage show is the best part of the whole production is that it is a conduit for learning to step out of your normal mode of reaction. For instance, one worried about what others think begins to care a little less. By showtime, it's almost as though you've become a new person - until it's over and you go back to normal. In my case of course, whether I care what people think or not, I still look like a lamoid on stage. But at least I can be certain of one thing for that brief moment - for one glorious instant, I know that I'm not invisible.

Europe - Geneva and Interlaken

Journal of Vacation in Europe - from July 22, 2007

Today saw a quick jaunt through Geneva. Nice little town, though maybe a little too moderate in its endeavour to be politically neutral in every way possible. I'd have liked to have seen more but since we were coming from Lyon (due to yesterday's bomb incident) we didn't have a great deal of time. But it was a nice to walk around a bit and take in a few of the sights. Not only is Geneva the home of the Red Cross (and Red Crescent), We got to see the UN's European headquarters. They had some sprawling fountains in front and about a dozen kids were having fun running through them. At the back there was an odd-looking monument - a huge wooden chair, probably 15 metres tall. I thought it strange that a chair should be in front of the UN - which represented judgement to me. Then I realized that one of the legs had been splintered and broken halfway up. Sit upon a chair with a broken leg and it will topple.From July 24, 2007

Interlaken offered all the sights for which I'd hoped. We arrived at night and didn't realize until morning just how great was the location of our hostel. The deck overlooked a peaceful river on a mountain backdrop. From time to time, a para glider could be seen sailing lazily across the sky.Yesterday we took a trip up to 3000 metres and the weather miraculously held out long enough to give a great view of the glacier and 'the top of Europe,' as well as the mountain ranges, rivers, lakes, and mountain villages all around. It was great to feel the 5 degree air after being in Spain and France with their scorching sun. The waterfalls down the mountain cliffs were mesmerizing. They fell in such a thin curtain that it looked like a silver mist, almost corporal shapes in the water could be made out sliding down in free-fall hundreds of feet until crashing - silently and seemingly gently - upon the rocks below. The runoff from the snow caps formed rushing pure white rivers that later on downstream would settle in a pure bright aqua green.Walking around the little mountain towns, one can't help but wonder at how these people can live year-round carving a living out of the face of the mountains. About one thing I was pretty certain: no tractors are used to clear their precipitous fields.Today, taking the train among the mountains, I am struck by how much it reminds me of Scotland. The clouds have returned, partially obscuring many of the mountains sometimes with thin puffs. Somehow it grants them even more majesty and wonder than they had already possessed on their own. Somehow more definition and mystery all at once. Is there anywhere on earth anyone would rather be?
There's one lesson we learned the hard way however: As tempting as it may be when you're going up 3000 metres to aspire to reach 3000.06 metres... if you ever plan on climbing a mountain, you'd probably be better served leaving your stilettos at home!

Love is Different

Disaffected. No, it goes beyond that.
There was a time when I held out hope that I might find one person somewhere who would be a great match; who would despite all my many faults, past, present and future, accept me for who I am, understand me, even love me. I don't remember when it was that I shelved the hope that such a person existed for me. But I now find myself questioning whether such a person exists even for anyone.
No matter where I go, broken and hurting marriages fill my landscape. One here who cheats and doesn't know why; one there who sees it crumbling and doesn't care; or one lining up for second helpings before the first is even finished. It makes me furious and sorrowful that Satan can take something so pure and good and twist it into something terrible. Close my eyes, and they're all still there on the back of my eyelids and within my broken heart. They speak a silent yet resounding answer to the age-old question; yes it is better to never have loved at all.
After all, who would knowingly choose the path of Hosea?
But what do I know of love? All I know is that it's different than you'd think.

Then when I think of the one who doesn't exist, the one true companion, I realize that it's Someone who does exists and I've already met. And I didn't have to fight to win the love that I've never deserved. A love more rewarding than any that could come from another selfish person such as myself.

Do the Java Jive

Today after three and a half months, my self-imposed coffee ban finally has been lifted. And I celebrated by - you guessed it - drinking a coffee. Lately, I'd been having coffee headaches just from thinking about the end of the diet. After weeks of trouble, people getting fired at work, changing departments, out of town friends visiting, packing and getting ready to move, it felt so relaxing just to go for a walk on such a nice day with my old friend coffee.
To take a deep breath anticipating the plunge into what will probably be a very busy and hopefully fulfilling season.

Europe - French Riviera

Journal of Vacation in Europe - from July 21

We got to Nice alright after 12-13 hours on trains and in stations. But we got to meet some nice people on the last train which was otherwise a tortuous affair. It had to have been 45 degrees in the train for that four hour stretch.
Nice is a nice city in which to just walk around. The outer part of the city offered amazing views of Nice from the small mountains around the city. The stretch along the main tourist street dotted with palm trees saw a fantastic view of the Mediterranean in front of which swarms of tourists would gather to cook themselves in the intense midday sun. A French girl we'd met told us that things are pretty relaxed in the south of France. People get up late, have a relaxing breakfast, take a rest, go to work for a spell, then take another nap in the afternoon. So it came as no surprise to see so many locals turn up on the weekend to play lawn bowling along that main street. Leisure is a way of life - must be nice!Monaco was a sight to see as well. It's hard to imagine a city so rich and clean, and having such beautiful land. Tourists were flocking to the casino to see it, to take pictures of themselves in front of whomever's expensive car would pull up, and waiting to take pictures of any famous person who might go in or out of the casino.





There were some pretty interesting museums in the area, including Marc Chagall's museum. His works were generally off the wall but I loved his stained glass works. The longer you gaze into it, the more you see. His series of biblical paintings were pretty interesting too. Monaco's prince has his own vintage car collection open to the public, which I was amused to see included American military vehicles. Other honourable mentions were the VW toaster wagon and the Lamborghini.We were headed to Geneva today, but due to a bomb scare at the train station (accompanied by what I thought was a ridiculously small-looking fire truck), we only made it to Lyons which was even so a very convoluted trip. We met a family of Swiss people who were also trying to make a connection to Geneva and a German girl who looked very lost and on the verge of tears until we let her know that there were other people in the same boat. Conversation with her on the train ride was tough because it wasn't just ordering food or getting directions or checking in or out. It was quickly apparent that my comprehension by far outpaces my mouth's ability to shape the correct words! We spent hours in train stations not knowing where we were going or what we would do when we got there, but in the end, we all scored free hotel rooms for our trouble.
From tomorrow I will be in Switzerland taking in some fresh mountain air. It's going to be great if we ever get there!

Europe - Barcelona

Journal of Vacation in Europe - from July 16, 2007

Completely lost. At least in France, I could pretend I knew what people were saying and even convince myself sometimes. Less than a week in and there's no doubt about it; planning a trip is hard work. So today I got a welcome respite from the rush and got a taste of the Mediterranean. Literally. It didn't taste all that great to me; it was too salty. The day was beautiful and the waves huge. I almost got sucked under the water was so rough. Today was a good day; more like a vacation.

From July 17, 2007

Barcelona is a good city in which to just wander around and enjoy the sights. And the food. There are areas of town that have so many restaurants that it seems like they're really competing with the others to fill tables. At one place we paused, the the owner started giving a whole sales pitch. I thought I was at a used car dealership.
Speaking of cars, traffic is so crazy I don't know where to look anymore since England. All I know is to is I must stay in the 'do not kill' zone, otherwise called the crosswalk.

Who needs a pet when you can have a Kawai?

I think everyone I've talked to lately is under the impression that I don't want to be around them. Something has broken inside and I don't know if it will ever be right again. I can hide in the lab at work or in the balcony at church and try not to cry, but it tends to give people the impression that I dislike them.
So when faced with the choice between sulking and the next popular option, buying shoes, I decided to go with option C:
Buy a digital piano.
Now for a moment, I can get away from all the problems and sit in front of the window overlooking the city and be one with the music.

Maybe some burdens are meant to be carried alone with God.
Don't just sit there; do something. Sometimes, the best friend is one who doesn't do something, but just sits there with you.

Europe - London and Paris

Journal of Vacation in Europe - from July 15, 2007.

When on vacation, there are a lot of new experiences. In fact you quickly find your day full of them. The unfortunate consequence of that is that some of the old and trusted routine experiences become a lower priority. Like sleep. I don't even know what time it is at home right now. I know time my body says it is - time to sleep. All the time.

The week prior to departure was filled with a flurry of activity. Not only was I planning a trip, but I was also filling in for my boss and looking for a new apartment. About four hours before departure for the airport, I got a call to go in and pay the last month rent on a new place that came open. Which meant go pay that minute or lose the chance to get the place. The ensuing adventures with banks and traffic and crashing computers was a little more than I'd have wanted, but in the end, I somehow got the place and got packed.

So on the fourth night of the trip, I find myself traveling to yet another country. The plan may have been a bit ambitious but so far we've managed to stick to it. Toronto to London Thursday night, London to Paris Saturday morning, and now Paris to Barcelona Sunday night.

London remained much as I remembered it from last year. Weather that changes quickly - cloudy, sunny, rinse and repeat. Parks are everywhere and full of people just lying around apparently not doing a great deal on a Friday afternoon. The Underground remains as always in the summer - very warm and at times very crowded. Sometimes so crowded that one might say it feels a bit... romantic! While the big city has significant drawbacks there's something about England that I like. It's no home to me but maybe there's some memory of England in my blood. Maybe I'll put a finger on it when I'm back there at the end of the month.

I got to see a few sights that I didn't get to dwell on last year due to time constraints. The banking centre Canary Wharf, the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace with the Queen's guard carrying some pretty hefty weapons. But one thing that confounds me is the roundabouts. The monument of traffic lights on Canary Wharf is, I feel a testament to how confusing their traffic is.

Paris provides an interesting juxtaposition to London. In many ways they are similar, and yet very different and it goes far beyond different languages. My first impression however was quite shocking. No sooner had I emerged from the subway when a convoy of armoured cars drove past, soldiers again sporting some pretty hefty guns. Last night the city showed us how they party. It was their national holiday which was accompanied by a very impressive display of fireworks beside the Eiffel Tower which lit up partway through. The City of Lights has earned it name in my books. The revelries in the streets and fountains following that were interesting, even frightening at times after nearly being hit in the head by a firecracker. There was drinking everywhere. You couldn't find a bin anywhere along the Seine that wasn't filled with wine and liquor bottles (with bottles stacked around them because they were full). At times like that, you just have to shrug and say, Vive la France!

Walking around Paris can give you two different impressions. One in the crowded tourist areas and another in the peaceful streets off the beaten path. But just about everywhere in the central city, beauty...

Except... If anyone has ever been to Waterloo and has seen a certain hideous building which made one ask oneself, "from whose twisted imagination did this come," I have found the answer. Davis Centre meet Pompidou.

Exposure to French was difficult at first since it's been about eight years since I've used it. But I found it much easier to understand than Quebecois. We'll see how confused I get in Spain now!

Back to blogging

Less than three hours ago I returned to Canada after what seemed like forever overseas. It was a pretty ambitious schedule and I'll be posting some pictures soon as well as a summary of all the things that were good, bad, and sometimes downright frightening. But now I have a splitting headache from the flight so sleep is a higher priority. Plus I have to work tomorrow - what was I thinking...?
The other piece for news is that one hour ago, I signed a lease for a new place near Peoples for the fall.
This summer has been busy and it's starting to look like the signs are pointing to a busy fall as well.

Bonus!

I just found 10 pounds and 70 euros in my room! This is going to come in useful next week.
(Did I mention I'm going to Europe ?)

The end of religion

Do you know how people can sometimes say something controversial for the express purpose of seeing how you react? "Don't mention gays to so-and-so. She'll fly right off the handle because she's very conservative - very religious." This spawned an interesting conversation on what we feel it means to be a right wing Christian. An interesting topic for me as I can think of people in my own family who are sitting on either side of the proverbial social/religious value fence. And others probably including myself sitting on the fence. I thought the statement was geared to gauge me as an ally or enemy on the matter, neither of which I'd like to be labeled at work so I felt inclined to stress the following. There is a difference between these three: saying that which is unlawful is right, telling people what is wrong is wrong, and coercing people to do what is lawful.
I will not say, 'whatever is right for you is alright.' But no sooner am I going to run out and protest every gay parade or movie that comes along. If I did, it would behoove me to protest just about every movie that comes out of Hollywood because most of them glamorize sin of some sort (usually fornication since it sells so well). And doing all that protesting would be an exhausting hobby.
Forgive my condescending usage of the term 'hobby' applied to protesters. But in this case, it might just fit. What is gained by forcing people to obey the Law? Will banning homosexual activity save a single soul?
Instead all we are doing is convincing the world that you have to be good enough to come to Christ. "Come on, follow the Law so you can join our Law-abiding club because you'll go to hell otherwise." I think that's what the world thinks we say. Religious? Those fanatics are fixated on being perfect all the time.
It brings to my mind a recording of Bruxy I heard this weekend. I remember hearing the talk when he originally spoke it this past year but it applied so well to this conversation that I have to assume God wanted me to be reminded. It was called The End of Religion.
Do we read the Bible to find that reading the Bible isn't the way into heaven? Do we go to church on Sunday to hear that going to church isn't the path to eternal life? Are we focused upon making the externals correct hoping that salvation will follow?
Every election there is inevitably someone who sends around a mass email that reads something like this:

Hi all,
Hope your summers are going great so far and you're finding time to rest from studies and get to know your families and friends better. I hope you all can come to the retreat next month.
Yours,
X
PS. If you're a Christian, vote for party so-and-so.

It makes me want to grind my teeth. First of all, party "so-and-so" is always in my opinion the lesser of the evils if it is even that. Second of all Christianity always grew the best from the bottom up, not from the top down. Since when was it our duty to force the country to abide by God's Law? On that day, we would see a country full of religious people who have no relationship with Christ. A country in love with the method rather than the Maker.
Have we fallen in love with the Law or with Christ? If we could preach the Gospel instead of politics; if we would focus on the heart rather than the behaviour; if we will cease to condemn and allow the Spirit to convict those who believe. Then we would see,
the end of religion.

The encounter

Something shocking happened the other night. Anyone who does not already know I'm a scatterbrain and does not wish to know the truth - you may wish to ignore the following. Anyone who feels comfortable with the alternative arrangement, read on.

He stood in a room filled with people. Faces he knew well chatted with others he didn't. Some faces he thought he recognized yet to which he could not affix names flitted through the crowd as well. But whether old friends or acquaintances, none of the eyes of those faces glanced at him. Feeling lost, he thought it was a mistake to come to this place, but knew he must have come for a reason, even though he couldn't remember what that was.
An awareness between his shoulders made him turn. Just as though he had spoken her name, she turned at the same moment. His breath caught when he saw her face as though seeing her for the first time, like a phantom always on the edge of his vision but never there when he looked. As she gazed at him, she was all at once a stranger and someone he knew very well his entire life. It seemed the room was empty save for her.
"Rue," she breathed, her eyes softening. The word felt like a caress. He could feel the flesh pebbling on his arms. His vision narrowed and he felt as though he was floating backwards watching something happening to someone else. He couldn't breathe.
Her gaze faltered and dropped to the floor.
Seeming to gather herself she looked up and drew closer. She was too close and yet he couldn't move; his feet were rooted in place. She smiled apologetically. "I have this thing for you."
He couldn't think, it was as though he could only watch as though detached. "Uh... thanks," he heard himself say awkwardly. "I like things. But my birthday has already passed."
"Oh," she looked disappointed as though she'd expected him to say something else. She stepped back looking away. "I have to..."
He never found out what it was she had to do, because she turned and slipped away without completing the phrase. His awareness crashed back into itself and the room was suddenly full of people again.
For a fleeting moment he thought he should call after her. He didn't know why he didn't.

When I woke up, I couldn't help but marvel. Even when I'm asleep, I'm a complete idiot. At least that fact was one realistic bit in a generally doubtful dream.
I wonder what Freud would say. Maybe that love is right under my nose and I've failed to see. That, or he'd say it's some convoluted sign that I'm going to call my mother tomorrow.