Yes, I am still not famous.

 
On query letters, podcasts and fatherhood

I've been spending some time listening to a podcast on writing, where three women critique query letters by hopeful writers. I've liked and hated it; the letters are basically all follow the same format; here's my genre, my word count, what the story is about and who the comparables are (meaning similar books). Blah blah blah about the arc of the story, a little bit about me to humanize me and the first 5 pages of a manuscript are critiqued. 

I'm in a love/hate mood with it. First I don't love that of the 10 critiques I've listened to, every query letter has been by women. Second, I don't love that (spoiler) I sent out 5 intro letters to my top five specific agents a three weeks ago and not a word. I hesitate to call them query letters as they weren't for one book specifically, but a pitch for all of them. I also don't love that none of those intro letters were like what these ladies would want. 

I do love most of the advice; clock in around 400 words; careful of comparing yourself to 'famous' authors, which is a bit difficult because I like to read the more tried and true. I'm no Kurt Vonnegut but I sure am influenced by him. Grab the reader at the start, show character arcs in your summary.

Anyways, the podcast has given me some ambition to look at my marketing again. The only one I feel is a slam-dunk of a one-liner is my current manuscript but the way it's going, it won't be for another year at least. 

Which brings me to a short topic about prioritizing and fatherhood. 

I annually hate myself when my birthday roles around, reminding me of pledge I made when I was 40 to get published. It's 12 years later and I still haven't achieved that goal. I totally get that a lot of it is on me; nobody is rushing to find someone who isn't making it easy to find. But a small epiphany- part of this delay in life goals is, yes, fear of success but it is also the responsibility of parenting. 

I spent an hour today teaching my 10 year old how to play Risk, 30 minutes of him explaining a detailed map he drew. We made Kraft Dinner together. Last night, my 14 year old asked me to sit with her on the couch and we watched TV (9-9!) for a couple of hours. I've spent hours this summer ripping up weeds and replanting my lawn as it gave me a sense of completion and honestly, will make our home look better as my wife and I grow older here. Nobody else was going to do it. I've also spent many hours not with the kids, doing other things to avoid writing, which is such a cliche but it's true. It's so easy not to write and I hate myself when I don't, when I listen to podcasts of others who are that much closer than I am, Some were mothers and I wonder how their support system is; where their kids are. I read Danielle Steele has nine kids and has written 94 books. That sounds impossible on both counts. Nine kids? Where does she find the time to be a mother. Then I think, she likely doesn't. Now I've never read any of her books and likely never will but I'm envious of her output.  That's a dedication to the art I simply don't have in me.   

Yes, I could have used all those hours to write, not write, promote myself, draft query letters, get closer to my dream. Instead, I CHOSE (and I have to remember this) to be a good father, dad, husband. They come first, usually always come first and that is nothing to be ashamed of. No matter how litle I write in a day or week.

Families are what we make them.    

I levelled up in adulting.

 

I earned myself a 12 foot aluminum fishing boat last year, doing it the old-fashioned way, bartering it from an obese neighbour who couldn't assist me in the building or paying of a shared fence. The boat had sat on an old utility trailer in the back corner of his yard and to which we stared at for the last five years, and after the bartering, found out it had sat there for twenty. 

I spent most of last summer rebuilding the trailer from the frame up, because also when you are an adult, you should have a utility trailer (caveat, you don't need one if you don't have property). So I rebuilt the trailer and spent this summer slowly migrating the boat from our back yard to the top of the trailer. I also needed to invest in a means of propulsion, for despite it also coming with a 7hp 45 year old outboard motor, I felt an electric motor would be more suited for my needs; specifically a quiet trolling speed. 

So for my 50th, I bought an electric boat motor and a battery to go with it. I also bought a fishing license, which is like an official ticket to enjoy the bounties of nature. 

I have used the boat twice this summer, which is a 200% increase over last year. I have taught my boy the ritual of the Fisherman's Club, which is to jump overboard and pee while holding onto the side of the boat. He enjoys doing that. I have learned that the slower it goes, the longer the battery life. I have learned rowing is not as easy as it looks in the movies.

I have yet to catch a fish. 

But I have a boat. 

I levelled up. 

yay. 

In other news, I was informed an ex-girlfriend of mine died last year of a brain aneurysm while running. She was 49 and one of those women who seemed larger than they were; who brought joy and laughter and excitement into my life and then when she left, it killed a part of me. She was someone who showed me how joyous life could be but I equated that to only being possible if she was there to point it out to me. I wrote poetry for her, wrote a short novella also about her that nobody has ever read. She was my first reader and my poetry made our relationship last maybe... two months longer? I can't exactly remember. However long it was, it wasn't enough for me, more than enough for her. It took a long time for me to get over her but that's on me. Life goes on until it doesn't.

I can only imagine how much laughter she and her husband for over two decades and I am sad to hear her life-timer is over. Just recently I had used her as an example to my daughter in a discussion about careers. My daughter had chosen 'computer designer' or something that sounded so establishment/stereotypical. My ex, on the other hand, 25 years earlier, told me she would love to be a do-wop girl, one of those girls in the background singing the ooohs and ahhhs while the singer did their thing. I loved that thought, someone not wanting to be the one in the spotlight, but instead being in the background, experiencing her own dream as she doo-wopped her way through life. 

She never did become a background singer, but I'm sure she helped so many others in her joy, laugh and smile, do-wopping through life. Here's to you, SJ. 

It's starting to feel a lot like...something.

 

It's been awhile. 

I've been busy. Busy being a father, a dad, a renovator, a learn-as-you-goer, teacher's assistant, dog-walker, home-maker, etc etc. with little time for writing. I'm only here because I am on a sick day from work with it's own weird little backstory behind that which I won't get into. 

I did Nanowrimo, which is a writing challenge held in November in which you try to type 50,000 words. I cut out an hour a day and my family let me with little to no distractions. I used that to edit a 1st draft I have let simmer for many months. It's a murder mystery thing; someone's killing pedophiles and it's done in three different points of views; a step away from my preferred Karmageddon world building. 

It's a challenge in itself and I'm only like... 1/2 way done, even with Nanowrimo. And CoVid. 

According to Worldometer.info, here are the latest stats worldwide; . 1,665, 000 deaths (about 3% of those who officially contracted it). In Canada there were 13, 865 deaths. They don't give out an age breakdown but that can be found with a little digging; last I checked, 96% were people over 80. 

Yep, CoVid is still the thing. There are too many conspiracy theories to count and, depending on who you ask, faith in our leadership is plummeting. We have small owner-operated restaurants forced to close while McDonald's has their best sales ever. You can't have a wedding with more than 20 people (depending on where you are) yet Home Depot and Walmart are fine. You can't work out at a gym or have dinner with more than 4-6-10 family members but you can go into any store that is open as long as you wear a mask. 

Masks are mostly mandatory the world over yet nobody mentions the mask-makers as part of any conspiracy. That's left to Big Pharma, two of whom have announced vaccines immediately after the US election win of Joe Biden over Donald Trump. And socialists; that one is fun. While the stock markets show huge gains (keeping the rich richer), somehow this is all a conspiracty for a great economic reset where everyone will get a (gasp) basic universal income. 

As back when this first started, nobody really rich or famous has died. Tom Hanks was one of the first to get it and that would have been a game changer. But he was fine. As was Justin Trudeau's wife, Boris Johnson (UK premier), P!nk, Trump ('cured' over a weekend), a ton of other White House high-ups in his cabinet, Prince Charles. 

I had my own theory at one time (writer brain kicking in) that this was a War of The Worlds/Invasion of the Body Snatchers thing where those who die are pod people, advance forces for alien overlords. It's not sensitive to those who have lost someone but we all have to try and make sense of all this in our own ways. If that involves me coming up with a Killer Alien Virus theory to explain why I can't watch my daughter play ringette, so be it. 

Mostly, those who died have been old and with weakened immune systems. I went for a walk awhile ago and had this minor epipheny of how this is a Boomer reaction to the approaching of Death, as futile as it may be to fight it, they're going to try. It's backfired a little, such as so many have had to die alone, their families unable to hold their hands one last time, in fear of infection. When we, as a society, placed our elders in care homes, paid other people to care for them then get angry that they are dieing in these places we have put them, who really is to blame?   

So we have people shouting online to wear your masks and other people shouting it makes no difference. In my province, nearly all the deaths were in long-term care homes (which are like bus stations for funeral homes). We have a 50 person cap on a hockey arena that sits 3000 and a 2 person cap in public restrooms. 

We have this 'front-line workers are the real heroe' memes going around yet many of those are the cashiers who are keeping the economy running. There has been no mention of Big Banks or credit cards doing anything other than lip service to everyone falling deeper in debt. I don't know how that will play out but in the meantime, we try to keep as normal as possible. 

Yet on my end, things are actually quite stable. We both kept our jobs; I caught up on a lot of side-projects such as building a front walkway, building a fence, bartering my labour from that to a 14ft aluminum boat and a utility trailer (which I then rebuilt). We resided our house, finally losing the avocado green aluminum siding and replaced 8 windows. Then to top it off, we have a new(er) truck, one that can actually tow the utility trailer! So yeah, sorry society is in the crapper and our alien overlords are about to run the show but I'm doing pretty darn good.

 

Now if I can only get a book deal. 

 

Day 10 of Societal Isolation

Current method of Social Isolation.

I don't know if I am embarrassed on behalf of humanity or proud. On one hand, our ability to mass implode as a civilization is unprecedented. I had the feeling this shit was getting real when Starbucks started offering only Drive-Thru service. We nearly shut down Starbucks!

Then it got stupid(er) when they shut down our 8 acre neighbourhood dog park, which I've never seen more than 10 people in on a good day, due to the COVID19!!! It's a goddamn 8 acre park that dogs poop in during the winter and kid leagues play soccer and T-Ball in during April and May.

Keep in mind that I live in a community of about 1000 people. There are more people that walk on the streets than go into this park. I mean, if we are following this current thought, why aren't the mailboxes taped off? There's at least 50 boxes that can be infected with COVID19!!!

But that is what this has come to. I'm tired of saying it's the flu, yes, it's highly contagious. It kills off the old and weak, Yes, that sucks. But that's what flus have always done. Yes, I understand that people are dying. That's nature. We don't live forever.

And until the rich and famous start dying off, in other words, those that can afford health care, then I'm not really worried about it.

At least, physically. Mentally, I'm drained. I'm trying to live in a 'Keep Calm and Carry On' world but everyone else is making it tough. We need t-shirts to differentiate us, to help us remind each other that we're not alone in thinking we're over-reacting. We need to Keep on Keepin' On.

Economically, I'm okay with my 2 weeks emergency funds and our 'Essential Services' jobs. I'm not like a lot of others out there. Thankfully, being perpetually poor prepared me really well for doing limited things on limited funds. I even might splurge this weekend and go for a non-essential drive what with gas at 94.9 cents (British Columbia, represent). That represents a savings of nearly 30 cents/litre in less than a month. How are the oil companies surviving?

And let's not talk about the credit card companies, who have been pretty silent on their whole 'we are still charging you 20% interest on any charges you incur.'

I am reminded of the saying "There is nothing to Fear but Fear Itself" and as a society, we are doing a bang-up job of living in fear. It will be a strange world to come back to, especially economically. Will our standard of living go down? Will there be a new iPhone release for this year? Where will ex-Prince Harry and Markie live? 

Self-quarantine Day 4

Day #4 of the national self-quarantine aka Spring Break 2020. 

While I jest, this is where we are at. I don't know if things would be much different for us to be honest. The kids are doing what they are doing; nothing different from their previous school holidays, barring the fact my daughter's Stay At Home class was cancelled and, as of yesterday, so are our weekly firehall practice.

We are still planning to go into town today; my oldest 2 have a bowling date with Grampa, who is willing to risk the chance of infection to spend some time with the kids.

I bought my oldest a bass; today I plan to go into pawn shops to see if I can find a cheap amp. My daughter is missing a sketch book so we will buy another one. My youngest is happy that his leprecaun trap has netted four hats and golden chocolate bar.

Still off Facebook, and now Yahoo is starting to send me emails about it; Greg shared this, Ken shared that...

I'm reading Stephen King's On Writing and Wings of Fire, recommended by my daughter. It's a fairly straight forward dystopian rebellion tale, but with dragon/insects. It's not very subtle. For example, the bad guys are wasps and when the protagonists are deciding where to find the Rebellion, they have a choice between Yellowjacket Hive, Bloodworm Hive or Jewel Hive. Not hard to guess where they're going.

But she's reading and I love her and I will finish it. As per King's On Writing; Reading bad writing makes you more aware of your own bad writing. I'm not saying Wings of Fire is bad; it's meant for a particular audience.

Nobody died last night from CoronaVirus, keeping the Canadian death toll at 4 in a population of 38 million people. We talked a little at the dinner table with the kids. They seem mostly oblivious however the older one isn't saying much.

Emotion is Contagious (this didn't age well)

So I'm wrong but will keep this up for some humble pie.

Aug 15, update; there are over 174,000 dead in US (#1) and 9000 in Canada (#24)

Conspiracies are all the rage right now, masks are semi-voluntary, the US election is nowhere near the same amount of hype/hysteria as it was 4 years ago so at least we have that going for us. 

PANDEMIC!

Coronavirus is all the news nowadays. As far as I'm concerned it's a variation of the flu and I fear that I am the only one who remembers the media panic of SARS, the bird flu, avian flu, ebola and flesh-eating disease that ran their course over the last two decades.

Emotion is contagious; if one of us laughs, others laugh. That is why comedies feel so much funnier in theaters; stand-up comedy is done in front of an audience instead of one by one. Funerals are where people gather to feel sad. We avoid funerals so we don't feel sad(der).
Weddings make us happy. Winning as a group, losing as a group, it makes us feel emotions that are increased by the amount of people we are sharing that emotion with.

This is the basis of mob mentality; our emotions, heightened by others, make us do things that we would not otherwise do as individuals.

And the current emotion running through society is fear, pushed by social media and a large international organization called WHO.

Beware of Coronavirus.

For some reason, this is worse than all the others most of us have lived through before. And because we are now a world that thrives on fear, we relish the opportunity to do what we are told because of flu epidemic that hit a country on the other side of the globe

We are flourishing on fear, our leaders are showing each other what we are made of. And this is what we have shown;

All international travel is highly discouraged.
If you do travel, you are to self-quarantine yourself for two weeks before returning to your employment. Nobody will check up on this - you are to police yourself. WE are counting on you to be honest about your travels.
All events or gatherings of more than 250 people is forbidden.
That means ALL sports, from the NHL to the local ringette end-of-season dinner has been postponed/cancelled.
School districts are shutting down despite no children having been diagnosed.
Churches are closing their doors (read that one again and note the hypocrisy)
St. Paddy day parades cancelled!
There is an increasing push to create work-from-home scenarios so people don't have to go into work.
There is a big public information push to wash your hands.
There is an unfathomable, unexplainable rush on toilet paper.
Athletes are offering to pay the wages of stadium employees who would otherwise be serving over-priced food and beverages to their fans.
Big businesses are spamming emails, declaring how they 'are navigating' this pandemic which has KILLED 62 people in the US (of 331 million) and 1 person in Canada (of 37 million). Yes, it will be more but that's it as of March 15th, 2020.

To date, according to https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/ there have been 6000 deaths world-wide. 76,000 have recovered. The breakdwown of the age of fatalities is broken down on this page; https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/coronavirus-age-sex-demographics/ . According to CNN, the average age is 80. No child has died from coronavirus.

There are over 7.7 billion people in the world.

7.7 billion.

Do the math. This is not a pandemic; this is nature. Sickness kills off the old and the weak. It is nothing personal, it's saying your time is up. Time to move over, shuffle off this mortal coil, face the music, pay your tab, check your balance, meet your maker, etc. etc. etc.

Yet here we are. Two weeks into March. The Apocalypse is upon us.

I have logged off Facebook. I found it to be part of the problem instead of part of the solution. 

I am sure there are sane people among us; plenty in health care. Yet our self-isolation cuts away that sense of group rationality. FB does the same. Funny memes or videos on Toilet paper mobs do nothing buy hype the situation, only help stoke the flames of fear. We have been told to self-quarantine and so most of us will. We are obedient sheep and all it took was a little snowball to create this avalanche of fear. Much like AIDS, SARS, Bird flu, swine flu etc.

I am old enough to remember this situation playing out so many times before. News clips of everyone wearing face masks, nobody in our social circle having any personal experience of said deadly disease and then we continued on as if it never happened.

The difference this time is how influential social media has become; it not only pushes the snowball but creates more of them. It is our most trusted news source.

And this is the Catch 22 of our times; the argument will be that thanks to these restrictions, the pandemic never happened. If we didn't have these restrictions, we'd have deaths in the millions. We can't prove that wouldn't happen as we are not given the opportunity.

It's like saying those day-glow head-to-toe uniforms traffic control people wear keep them safer as opposed to only wearing a day-glow jacket. You can't argue with safety.

Group mentality wins out. Nobody is brave enough to call bullshit because YOU ARE THREATENING SOMEONE'S LIFE!

Yet, if Death is going to happen, it's going to happen. Your time is up; be it from an elderly driver behind the wheel, cardiac arrest, ski jump, or a 7 year old with a runny nose.

Yet here we are. 1 person dead in Canada has ground near everything to a halt except the Internet.

I especially love that the Houses of God are encouraging their parishioners not to gather there. There's a huge irony in that.

Good luck, everyone.

The Joys and Pains of Self-Evaluations

We've all done a personality test of some sort; 'which superhero are you?' 'what type of pie best represents you?' 'If you were a car, you would be a what?'. Sure, they're funny and for a brief moment we might wonder what our life would have been like if we actually were Ross or Rachel from Friends. But for every goofy personality test, there are the more serious ones; the ones psychologists and scientists put together through data collection, analysis and accepted hypotheses.

They aren't necessarily fun. They allow you to reflect better on who you are as a person, why you might not feel like you fit in with the general populace. For some, they are epiphanies; 'Oh, that totally explains why I like spontaneous acts of expression and shutting myself out from the rest of the world'. I've done a few of them in my time but I'm at an age of 'tell me something I don't know'.

First, disclaimer; According the Mayers-Briggs Personality profile, I'm an INFP. You can be one of 16 different letter combinations and for most people (like myself) I don't really investigate many of the other combinations because, well, they're not me. I did the MP test in my first year of college, in  a room full of budding accountants. I was the round hole trying to fit into the square peg in that class, which made complete sense at the time.

I did it again twenty years later thinking I've had a lot of experiences since my first year of college. I've loved and lost, hired and fired, tried and failed, tried and succeeded. I've met hundreds of new people so all of that experience must have changed me somewhat right?

Nope, still an INFP.

I means introverted, I feel better by myself than with a crowd.
N means iNtuitive, which means I mostly go with my gut instinct as opposed to rational deductions.
F means Feeling, which means I am guided by my principles; if I agree with it, I'll do it.
P means Perceiving; I'm an idealist, I believe the best in everyone.

By no means is that a complete definition; for we are all only parts of a whole. But those are some of the basic ingredients which make up myself.

Now, I just did another test; the via assessment test, which is also free to do online. It measures those characteristics/values which dominate your personality; there's around 24 of them - too many to list.

I value honesty above all else. I also enjoy humour, creative thinking, and learning new things.

Sounds great, right? Nothing too surprising there. But when it came to my weakest strengths, you know what lays at the bottom of this idealistic soul?

Hope and gratitude.

That's a pretty big kick in the nuts and hard to rationalize with my strengths. How can I appreciate honesty yet have so little hope? How is I love to learn new things but have so little gratitude to the world I'm learning about?

So that's what I'm dealing with today; all because I took an assessment which tells me what science has determined by a series of 120 questions what I truly think of myself.

Does my humour come from my sense of hopelessness?

First Book Signing Post Recovery

Did my first book signing - I want to write about it but my 5 yr old is behind me, trying to find the word astronaut in a word search, among other things relating to the moon.

I can't do it. The kid needs more attention than a first draft of a manuscript.

The Hilarity of Depression

Sometimes, I want to laugh at how depressed I get because I'm pretty good at hiding it. I think most people with depression know how to hide it; they remove themselves emotionally and physically from everyone.

I know that the more productive one is, the less depressed they tend to be; like the act of keeping the mind busy will keep those nagging thoughts at bay.

So here is my morning.

I wake up and get the kids to school. No problem so far, my mind is busy with the kids, we walk, we talk, we say goodbye.

Now I'm in trouble.

But wait, a friend's wife is running for council in our local election. She's off to put up some signs with her 2 other children not yet in school. I'll totally help, for I was busy trying not to think of what
I'm going to do today to avoid being with myself.

That takes about 30 minutes and then I'm back at the house. I have so much I could do so I'm going to take a long shower first to figure out my plan.

Such a long shower.

Here's a list of things I think about that I can/want/should do;

• research some lit agents (3)
• research similar publishing houses
• update my social media
• read and review some homework
• watch a movie that my wife probably wouldn't want to watch
• take out the compost
• buy tickets to a bucket list item. 
• go to firehall and work out
• apply to EI (hours recently cut back)
• update resume
• take the dogs for a walk. 
• Do some editing of Karmageddon
• Do some writing of anything
• clean up spare room for son #1
• dismantle legos and put on kijiji
• clean up carport
• unlock some more characters in Lego Batman 2. 

I go through all this and then decide I will do the last one first. But only until 10am.

I figuratively give my head a shake. I realize that's the least important. What's most important to me? Probably the computer stuff. But then I need to go downstairs, unpack the laptop, log in.
Just the thought of that is overwhelming in this mindset. Let's get dressed first. Make some coffee.

So I broke it down into little goals. And while it might seem to go down 2 flights of stairs may only be a problem if I was morbidly obese (I'm not), it is.

But first I make a coffee. I find the laptop. I go downstairs, clear off my desk. I power it up.

And now I'm here and it's 10am.

Deep breath...

Cracks in the windshield; synchronicity

I'm struggling again but this time I'm more accepting of it. I realize I am struggling. Not just in writing but in all things. The 'do it' part is missing. I'm stuck on 'just'.

I need to hear that song now but the random Internet slot machine will play Lucky for me.

I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll this time
I feel my luck could change

Kill me, Sarah
Kill me again with love
It's gonna be a glorious day

Pull me out of the air crash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge

The head of state has called for me by name
But I don't have time for him
It's gonna be a glorious day
I feel my luck could change

Pull me out of the air crash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge

We are standing on the edge.


Nice song. 


I guess I should be happy I'm just on the computer. I was standing in the shower, delaying getting out. I have so much to do today. I took a breath. I told myself that today was not going to be hard. I could do it.

Just. (also by Radiohead)

I will sit in front of the computer for an hour. So far it's been 23 minutes, I think. OK Computer (rocking this Radiohead).
I still don't know what is wrong with me, I mean, other than that I have depression and I am getting old and I'm confused as to what I should be and everything that comes with being nearer fifty than forty or thirty.
Shit, yesterday I played Lego Batman on my PS3 and then mowed the lawn. Priorities...

I got another thanks but no thanks from a literary agent and I told myself that these rejections hurt less the more you get them. And that's true and also not true at the same time. But I still delay on trying again. It's been six months and no word on Karmageddon. Time to throw it somewhere else.

Yet, here I sits. On one hand, good for me. I'm finally sitting here. Yet, I'm not submitting K anywhere. I'm choosing to write this instead, to question why I'm avoiding and yet also to be the immediate answer as to why I'm avoiding.

Time management. My life sometimes feels like a series of band-aids on top of each other. And I hear stories and I watch stories and realize I'm not as bad off as others. So I should appreciate that. But I still have so much to do. Just do it, jay. Just do it.

I've got a lot to do today.

And now the Internet has given me this sadly timely U2 song that hits home on my Radiohead station: 

Tough, you think you've got the stuff
You're telling me and anyone
You're hard enough

You don't have to put up a fight
You don't have to always be right
Let me take some of the punches
For you tonight

Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

We fight, all the time
You and I, that's alright
We're the same soul
I don't need, I don't need to hear you say
That if we weren't so alike
You'd like me a whole lot more

Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

Say, say, say

It's been an hour. Baby steps. On to the next thing.

Outside. In Rainbows. (Radiohead)

Yes, Daughter, there is still a Santa Claus

Late night thoughts on Childhood Beliefs

Note; It’s been nearly 6 weeks since I’ve written anything of substance. The cycle repeats. Inspiration, Dedication, Insecurity, Shame, Confidence. If I’m lucky, sometimes I’m able to replace Shame with some Editing. I shouldn’t feel insecure about what I do, I know it’s good. But I lack validation and the desire to seek out the validation, so I have let my dreams sit for the summer, enjoyed it with my children, for the summers do go fast and they are both starting school this year and my memory is slipping faster than they are growing.

I love my daughter. She’s nine. She told her mom a few days ago that she’s starting to have suspicions about Santa Claus. She didn’t say that directly, she was making an observation. “You know, Santa seems to only have toys that you could also buy in Walmart.”

I’m like… wow. But you, as a parent, have to keep that dream alive, you know? What do you do? Bring down the house of cards that is Santa Claus? 

My bookshelf

I have a bookshelf. Everyone should be so lucky.

Actually 5 bookshelves. They are the length of closet doors, because that is what they are. That is also why I can't call it a bookcase. The shelves are full, with books I have read. Most of them only once but liked enough to keep, thinking one day I will read them again.

I think what you read says a lot about if we could be friends. I think my books say a lot about me.

Let me check out your bookshelf and I believe I will get a glimpse into your soul.

Look at my shelf and it's a clusterfuck of authors, subjects and genres... which is appropriate.

I am barely holding on here.

At one time, I built these shelves, for the specific purpose of making a home for my book collection. They were organized in some way now lost. Was it by author or subject matter?

The shelves, like myself, have become disorganized. I look back on these shelves, dissecting them, much like my life, what choices made me do this? Why are they there? When did I start stuff books anywhere there was space?

What was my original intention with that top shelf?

Perhaps that was where the 'classics' were to be. There was my Steinbeck, Asimov, Hesse, Wolfe. But then again, why is there a Mastering The Tarot book, sandwiched between a single serving of Tolkien (a hardcover 74th printing of The Two Towers (1983) I bought for a quarter at the Mission 2nd hand store) and Elmore Leonard's Rum Punch (better known as the Tarantino movie Jackie Brown)?

And why is 1 Harry Potter book and a Richler book on top of two Terry Pratchetts? Why are they with the Winston Churchill biography trilogy? The only thing separating the two is a sci-fi 'Hall of Fame' anthology (1971) I keep solely because it has Flowers for Algeron in it, a legendary story I only read a couple of years ago and was kinda 'meh' about.

At least still perchedon the top-right corner are my memories; about a dozen notebooks from years past, story ideas and memories waiting to be re-discovered, analyzed, considered. There's also a copy of the Joy of Sex under all that, because... I was single once.

Is that good those notebooks remain untouched, when so much of the rest has been tampered with?

On my second shelf, the 'eyeline' shelf for me, which I would think should be my favourites, are books organized again mysterious to my reasoning.

From the left there are a few hard-cover books, most over 75 years old if I go by their spines. Great, I get that - high enough to imply value if I ever become a book-collector/seller and also to keep out of toddler hands. But then there is a pile of financial books which I doubt I will ever read (again). It takes money to care about keeping money.

Then a few pretentious names to keep you interested; Philip Dick, Chuck Palaniuk, Ayn Rand. A couple books on accepting I'm a writer and how to deal with it. Dead center of the shelf is my current fav contemporary writer, Patrick DeWitt and his three books.

Beside him, my humour section. Woody Allen, Carl Reiner short stories. Will Ferguson devolves into a Uncle John's Bathroom Reader. That is bordered on the right by my 'spiritual section' in case I ever want to read more about Taoism or How to Win Friends.

Third shelf - I remember this is for my pocket books as the height is quite short. I'm thinking this uneven spacing needs to change if I am going to organize this mess. I have a lot of Discworld on this shelf, altogether. A sign of respect for honestly most influentialBut then I have some Vonnegut and Brave New World. A bunch of Malcolm Gladwell books separates the books from the few cassette tapes I have remaining from that part of my past.

I'm getting tired. So much to dissect.

Fourth shelf - the bigger books, too large to fit on my paperback shelf. These range from The Shining (2 copies) to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Anthology.  I recall this was to be my 'books made into movies' section, which explains why Gone Girl is beside Captain Corelli's Mandolin and Princess Bride beside American Hero (rebranded Wag the Dog for Hollywood purposes). There's also Silence of the Lambs and Cloud Atlas and my in-joke copy of God Hates Us All, the meta-book within a TV series, Californication, written by 'Hank Moody'. 

But that segment is cut off by the few Ender saga books I have found in bookstores by Orson Scott Card. Then it goes back into my over-sized Vonnegut, a copy of Geek Love found under the Free Books Tree in my neighbourhood. Fencing that off is my stack of sports-related books, mostly hockey. Now I'm seeing the subjects; the social consciousness pile, Shock Doctrine, a Leonard Cohen biography sandwiches some Noam Chomsky and 2 wildly different biographies of Howard Hughes. A Pat Riley Life Coaching dips into my Pierre Burton historical Canadiana books. I enjoy historical fiction but don't go out of my way to find it. Beside Burton is the collection of James Michener books/volumes read and still waiting to be read. Chesapeake, Alaska, Space, all bought for 50 cents each. As for cost per word, you can't get a better deal than this.

I am getting OCD just looking at this... 

Finally, on the bottom shelf, there are my textbooks, coffee-table books too large to fit elsewhere. My collection of Calvin and Hobbes, my Star Wars trilogy storybooks, which is probably worth quite a few bucks nowadays. Yet, there they are, bottom shelf. Surprised they weren't destroyed by curious fingers yet. A quick Internet search reveals some for sale on ebay, roughly $10 each.

Guess that new sailboat will have to wait...

Beside the fantastical X-Men anthology, Macbeth adaptation and V for Vendetta (graphic novels, not comic books I remind myself) there is a very interesting illustrated book called Great Moments In Medicine. The corners have been nibbled on by mice years ago when I had so many of these in storage as they waited for me to put down roots. This is where I learned they used to put boiling tar into bullet wounds during the American Civil War until some doctor decided that probably wasn't helping.

There's always a lesson if you read long enough.

My last two books are Lady Cottingham's Pressed Fairy book, a book I never gave to a long-ago crush and a textbook on Criminal Behavior. Perhaps there is a link? Then it devolves into photo albums, another nostalgic memory from decades ago.

But then... stashed behind those snapshots is another memory vault. My collection of childhood hard-cover Hardy Boy books, twenty-some in total. Back when I thought Franklin W. Dixon was a real person and had no idea what a coupe was, no matter how many times it followed Frank and Joe. Turns out it was a type of car. Memories. 

I thought at one time I would be giving them to my son. Thankfully, life made it so I have two. However, my first doesn't live with me and is a great reader, probably too far ahead of the pop curve what with his Harry Potter series, anime and Youtube channel. I doubt he would ever get hooked on two teenage detectives.

Perhaps my younger will be interested. However, that is many years away yet until he will be able to read.

I really need to organize this... but there you go - a quick glimpse into my book shelf. 

Random Bitching

I don't get the whole 'which one would you give up' or 'would you live in a cabin for a 1 million without Internet' posts.
Adults (I assume) are posting these - and friends are answering. I don't get it.

I assume it is some weird psych experiment - I read once they are lead generators so if you post on one it fills you with more of the same... but to what point? Do those posts evolve into 'would you live in a cabin or buy Hershey's Peanut Butter Cups?'.

Math questions... they never give you the right answer so you have to actually scroll through the comments and figure out which one seems to be the most popular. Sometimes, someone explains it but wow... i don't really care how much a burger is equivalent to.

Post a picture of your dog.  Why? Does anyone really scroll through the 13K pictures of dogs already posted on there? Why not just post the picture of your dog on your own timeline instead of putting it on some chain letter thing?

It's gotta be a psych experiment. Right?

Here's the last picture of my dogs...

This is actually a rock. But my boy thought it was Penny...
so I took a picture to remind him he needs to get his eyes checked. 

This is the last picture of my dogs.
They're happy. 

 

Still avoiding...

Once again, I've reached the summit of how far I'm willing to address the cancer/Pestilence thing.
I can say it is a lot of things, time, Spring, etc but really it's just me avoiding these demons.

I talked w/ my mom about that summer - 2003 as it turns out, making it almost 15 years this July. She stayed with me after the operation until I flew home with her. I, however, insisted I take her to a tea cafe in Halifax before we left. I have no memory of this. She also gave me a Radiohead fan magazine to read and Douglas Adam's Salmon of Doubt while I was in the hospital. Intensive care as one of my lungs partially collapsed during surgery. I recall the man beside me was often delirious. He had septic shock I could see his colostomy bag hanging off his bed.

Mom and Dad stayed with my landlord, who keep in mind, inherited a cancer boarder only 2 short months ago. I wish I could remember his name as well. He was very kind to take in my family and my problems on such short notice.

Dad left on a Sunday. Mom says he didn't believe I had cancer and so kept a letter from my Dr. identifying it as such... something -carcinoma. I plan on talking with him about his version of that time.

I then came home and recuperated in my Mom's basement. I don't recall much of this; listening to Bif Naked on the computer, avoiding everything as best as possible. I lost a lot of weight - I recall being about 185.

Somewhere during this time I learned my ex-partner's sister had brain cancer. I don't know if this is intertwined but there was another family friend who also had very aggressive cancer - he was down in Vancouver's cancer ward. These are only slivers of memories but I recall thinking how awful this all was. I partially hoped my cancer might somehow bring us back together only her sister had it too and all thoughts of the movie were set aside for both of us, I'm sure.

I went down to Vancouver in my step-brother's car. I recall this as I was pulled over on S. Marine for something and I had to explain why it was my license but my brother's registration. I don't think he was allowed to drive at the time. The cop was a bit confused but it was the truth and so I was let go, perhaps with a warning. I don't recall.

I had this plan to go visit both J and B in the cancer ward. I had this idea I would give J two flight passes so her sister could fly down and visit her sometime. And who do I see waiting for a bus stop on Oak? L. Crazy coincidence, right? So i loop around, park the car and go meet her.

She's not happy to see me. I don't recall most of this incident, other than she's making a scene and the other bus patrons are grateful for this bit of drama. I give her the flight passes and walk away.

I go to visit her sister, she's doing well. I recall asking something about L and another guy - figuring I might as well get it out of the way. L finds out I visited and yells at me some more. Don't know if it was by phone or letter as to this day I don't think she has a computer, having google-creeped for any evidence of her existence a few times over the years. For this journal I actually tried again but still nothing.

But I get ahead of myself. So, I go to visit J and I visit B - he's far worse off, bald, plump, hooked up to so many bags he looks like a technological Buddha.

I believe it turned out my Mom and her husband were there the day before? He had tracked dog shit in on his shoe into the ICU which made it so memorable.

I must have driven back to PG. I also had to go back to Halifax. I think I was given four weeks off for medical leave. I should have asked for longer as I was definitely not ready to return to work. I was there very briefly, gave my notice and flew home after a quick coffee date with the nurse who took a shine to me while I was in the Halifax ICU.

to be cont'd.

Shit HAPPENED - or fuckit, I'm doing a cleanse.

***This post deals with extremely graphic bodily functions. If you don't believe everyone poops, this article is not for you. That said...

via GIPHY

Ow ow ow ow, I'm thinking as I'm sitting on the toilet, again. I have destroyed my asshole . 

And all because I finally decided to do something about my chronic exhaustion, bad diet and dad belly; I mentally snapped and purchased a cleansing kit, one of those dietary-type powders that is supposed to help your metabolism or something.

I remember, there was this time, nearly fifteen years ago when 'cleansing' was the 'in' thing to do. Maybe it still is but my life and social circle has changed from knowing who is starring in the next Tarantino movie to knowing who all the pups in the Paw Patrol are.

I knew about 'cleansing' because there was this girlfriend of a drinking buddy who was the group buzz kill. She'd be the only one not drinking and although nobody asked she'd find some opportunity (such as the waitress saying "would you like a drink?") to tell everyone she was on a cleanse.


She said it as if it was something to be proud of. But not matter how many times she ‘cleansed’ she was still always a bit of a dick. We were all pretty happy when they finally broke up.

Now, nearly twenty years and twenty pounds later, I've decided to get serious about my health. No matter what you might think now, I’m here to tell you your body changes after 40. I start to think of the bathroom consequences of many of the foods I am about to eat. God help my toilet and asshole if I start craving hot sauce again. Funnily enough, I just watched an episode of Teen Titans GO! that perfectly summed up my evolution of addiction to spicy food. 

5 Cassette Tapes From My Past

You know you are getting older when you have to start using math to figure out how old you are...

And that being said, I'm getting older. This weekend, to be exact. I don't feel old. I am currently watching (and loving) Workaholics and I think Mad Max;Fury Road is the Movie of the Year. But my age betrays me, as does my body at times. I think others my age are sitting in front of their TVs watching Jeopardy and loving socially conscious movies like 12 Years A Slave (note-haven't seen it so not a critique). Perhaps they are thinking of how to maximize their RRSP contributions while I'm still trying to figure out what an RRSP is. All I know is there a level of shame I feel as I am not ready for old age at all. I don't have a retirement plan and only in the last few years am I understanding the cause and effect of putting beer and hot wings through my system without an adequate amount of fiber after.

draft 10 popculture awesome gifts for Dad (or me)

10 Practical and Inspired Gifts for Me

You say it’s your birthday or even better, Christmas.

Let’s face the selfish facts. Only you know what you truly want. Perhaps you are tired of getting another new ‘collectable action figure’ from a series you never cared for but someone thought you did because they guessed you were into The Avengers, because everyone else in the world is and they just went to the mall and found the most popular item on display and figured that was made for you.

But all you really want is something that rings of your unique personality, maybe something more than just a six pack of generic beer from your flatmates. And that special football jersey you got last year? The one of that team that you don’t care that much about? The one with the name of that player that now plays somewhere else? Let’s not talk about that.

Instead, why not just give them this list of some awesome gifts inspired by pop culture which are not actually useless? I’m not talking about all the cheap toys made in China, labelled ‘collector’s item’ and then marked up 1000%. I’m writing about those products that have broken the fifth wall of realism, props that were made real in a fictional universe then thanks to a ripple in space-time, became meta in this universe. Products that could be used in everyday life that non-fans might not glance twice at but those in the know will bow at your presence when you appear sporting one of these fine bits of retro pop culture history.

TL;DR; The Ultimate Guy Birthday or Christmas Wish List for gifts that are practical, somewhat subtle and unique. Nothing made of plastic or wasn't originally at first a prop on a movie/TV show before it was moved into mass productions because someone found out someone like you would buy it.

Quick New Dad Refresher...

On the Difference Between Being Selfless and Selfish

Just a short rant that's been bugging me over the weekend.


This is the line that has been drawn in the BC Teacher's Dispute (it's gone way past just being a 'strike' in my opinion).

Its that line between being selfish and selfless.

Teachers, by their definition are selfless - they, along with the thousands of others in health care, social services and non-profit volunteer agencies are selfless. Its an admirable trait we say. I could never do it, say others.

Yet look at them, out on strike - being selfish. They should be ashamed of themselves, holding the future of our children hostage.

You know who says that? Selfish people.

Don't get me wrong. We need selfish people - they are the ones that see the Big Picture in a different way. They see the necessity of pain and sacrifice (usually for others, not themselves). They are the ones that think the other person is the asshole and stopping the evolution of progress. Selfish people are the ones that cause change immediately, they shout and scream and break things, such as contracts, laws, weaker people. Selfish people are the ones that expect to be paid first and wouldn't have it any other way. They might contribute to charity; if you don't know, don't worry- they will tell you. They are the politicians, the financial wizards, the ones that are in mid-management positions and won't risk a thing for the betterment of all because they have everything to lose, which in reality is nothing truly tangible; it's an intangible. It's their sense of self.

If those selfish people were to suddenly become selfless, they would lose their sense of identity, the anchor of their entire value system.

It's a rare person who can balance the selfish side of the ego with the selfless side; Jim Iker has that in spades. Fassbender and Clark don't. They are selfish-heavy. While they may believe that they are doing what's best for BC, the enormity of the situation and the facts against them, the other options they have, the lack of selflessness in their decisions showcase not only the crutch of this dispute but also the values system that we are leaning towards; a values system leaning on individuality, not society.

 So while Clark and Fassbender and their sheeple tell you that the teachers are being selfish; be mad. They represent those members of society that lead by their selflessness. Your nurse is underpaid and overworked in comparison to your doctor. Your welfare worker is underpaid and overworked compared to the middle manager formulating budgets and cutting services. Your teacher is underpaid and overworked in comparison to your financial adviser.

It is time for the selfless to start being selfish. Being selfless is now no longer an honorable trait to have, only a trait for the selfish to exploit.

And once the selfish see that you no longer care what they think; that you too are willing to be selfish for the Big Picture, then things will change. Just don't look in the mass media for your messiah - they can only be found in the mirror.

Crash on the Coquihalla or

HOLY SHITBALLS

This is going to be part news report, part personal reflections of the bus accident on the Coquihalla (coke) highway in BC, Canada yesterday which by the end of the day had media reporting these essentials;

• There was 19 ambulances and 6 medical choppers dispatched.
• 
  
• It happened about 30 kms south of Merritt, BC
• 
  
• There was a total of 43 persons injured, with 7 in critical condition at various hospitals. Nobody died.
• 
  
• All the closest hospitals, Kelowna, Merritt and Kamloops were issued Code Orange - basically meaning prepare for a large influx of patients. Call everyone in and get ready.
• 
  
• The bus went into the meridian, overcompensated coming back out and slid on its side across the freeway, flipping upright on the other side. A tractor trailer's dashboard cam recorded the whole thing.
• 
  
• The tour bus was chartered by (seriously, who gives a shit) and the driver was assigned by the charter company.

And fluff, fluff, fluff - let's get the official statements.

And this is what pisses me off about mass media and why I'm writing this. That's not the real story. The real story is what happened in that 10-15 minutes before the first ambulance showed up. Over 40 strangers stopped to help the victims of that bus crash. Disclaimer, I am one of them, having reached the scene before the dust had literally even settled. I was one of the many to call 911 and tell them to 'mobilize everyone, mass casualties'.  I hung up on them when the operator started asking me my personal information as I was crossing the meridian. Seriously, there were more important matters at hand. People were hurt.