- Watching Canucks games: They usually start at 10 pm. I fall asleep halfway through.
- Pleasure reading: I've read 3 books this year. That's pitiful.
- Sleeping: 4:30 am wakeup calls are killing me. Oh, how I used to sleep. My bed is so lovely and soft and warm in the morning, and I wish to enjoy it again.
- Playing with my toys: Since I have far more money than sense, there's a stack of things in my room that I've bought over the last few months and are awaiting my attention. It'll be like Christmas come early, only even better because I don't have to share with my brother.
- Having days off: Apparently these are a thing? They sure sound nice.
- Eating lunch: I keep forgetting!
Monday, December 2, 2013
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
These assignments effectively represent the end of my academic career, an ending about which I feel violently conflicted. I absolutely want to finish school and get on with my life, and I need an extended break from the workload, having not had the past summer off, so I'm looking forward to being done. But I'm also dreading it.
I expect that I'm going to spend far too much time over the next few months at home, desperate for something worthwhile to do. School has given me a purpose for as long as I can remember. I was always working toward finishing, and even when I was doing assignments I thought were a waste of time, I was still working toward my main goal. In a few weeks, I won't have that goal. I'll have to set new priorities and new things to work toward, and in the meantime, I'll be adrift. I've never experienced that before, and it's terrifying.
I'll also miss the social element desperately, especially in the short term. School gave me opportunities to meet new and interesting people all the time, and it's only now that I really realize how miserably I've failed to capitalize on that.
This is probably going to be the biggest life change I've ever experienced, and I feel completely unprepared for it. I've spent so much time focused on finishing, I forgot to figure out what to do when I'm done.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Motorola announced this morning the Moto G, a new smartphone. It's generally an unremarkable mid-range phone, with specs that are comparable to flagship devices of 2011. What is remarkable, however, is the price. Motorola is releasing this phone at $179 outright for the 8 GB model and $199 for the 16 GB model. That is crazy.
This isn't the first $200 smartphone. LG's Optimus One hit that price point a couple of years ago, and Nokia has both Asha and Lumia devices in the $200 range. However, while this phone is not a flagship smartphone by any means, it is by far the best device I've ever seen at that price point.
I just bought a Google/LG Nexus 5 a couple of weeks ago (it's an awesome phone, by the way). I had only had my Nexus 4 for about six months, but at $350 it was cheap enough that I didn't feel like it was a waste of money to upgrade. I use my phone a ton (it's a problem) and having the fastest and best device available matters to me.
This is the second time that Google has hit that price point with a Nexus phone. The Nexus 4 actually launched even cheaper last year, with an 8 GB model available for $299 (I got the 16 GB for $349 both this year and last). At that price, I felt like there was very little excuse for anyone who can handle a smartphone not to have one. If you can't afford data service, Toronto and most major cities have sufficient free WiFi that it would still be totally viable to use an outright purchased smartphone on a talk and text plan.
For me, though, this seals it. $350 may be a little steep for some people still, but $200? Most people will end up paying nearly $100 for an outright featurephone anyway. Unless you can't handle the complicated tech, or the phone is for emergencies only and never gets used, there really isn't any reason not to get a smartphone anymore. This isn't the first smartphone for $200 or less and it won't be the last, but maybe this indicates a change in the way manufacturers will treat this segment. Maybe these phones will finally be good.
And if that's the case, then this will change the world. More than the iPhone. More than the cellphone. Maybe more than personal computer. This can put a powerful personal computer in the hands of every person in the world at all times. If the service providers will play ball, this can put internet access in the hands of every person in the world at all times.
As just about anyone with a smartphone if it has changed the way they live, and they'll almost all say yes. Ask them if they could give it up, and they would almost unanimously answer no. Having the ability to access all the information available on the internet at all times will change the way people live.
People sometimes talk about the information revolution as though it has already happened, but I don't think we're close to the peak yet. In fact, I think everything that brought us to this point has just been laying groundwork. The real revolution is about to come, and this is a big step toward it.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
I do this mostly by paying attention. I'm nearly always paying attention. I listen to everything people say, and I store it away. Later, I use that information to build a holistic profile of people. Nobody says or does anything in a vacuum, you always have to put it into the broader context. I take all the context I have on that person specifically and fill in the gaps with what I know about their personality types, people like them, or myself. After some time, I can usually pull together a pretty good picture, and I use that to frame my interactions with them.
That's a very sterile and scientific way to describe a very organic process. It's not like I'm keeping notes on people on purpose, I did this for years and years before I even realized what I was doing. I still do it without thinking about it. It's just a part of who I am, and how I deal with people. It also sounds way more creepy when I write it out like that.
While this is a very useful skill to have, the biggest problem is that I find it is most effective by far as a reflective process. That is, I interact with someone and gather a lot of information, then I (usually subconsciously) analyze it later, and next time I interact with that person I am far better prepared. That's great, except you don't always get a second chance to interact with someone.
What I am really, truly atrociously bad at is reading someone in the moment. Picking up hints and figuring out someone's intentions in real time just doesn't come naturally for me. Mix in a not-so-healthy dose of social anxiety, and I'll often struggle with maintaining "small-talk" type conversations too. As you might imagine, this makes things particularly difficult for me with women. I just don't pick up on the signals that they're interested in me, and I'm usually so preoccupied with not killing a conversation, that I don't have enough mindshare to watch for them.
Of course, hours later (right around the time that I'm figuring out all the perfect things I should have said earlier), I'll clue in. By that point, it's usually too late. It's incredibly frustrating, and I have no idea how to fix it, other than practice.
The worst, however, is realizing weeks or months later that I missed something. That happened to me recently, and it really, really sucks. I had an opportunity for something, and I missed all the signs. Worse still, it happened over the course of several weeks. I had the chance to take in everything I needed, process it, and still had an opportunity to act on it. This is supposed to be what I'm really good at! Unfortunately, other things in my life at the time had me completely preoccupied, and I missed it all. I only just clued in, and short of not at all subtly manufacturing another opportunity (and I really can't think of a way that doesn't come off as borderline creepy at best), the chance is probably gone. At least gone for now.
Missed opportunities suck.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
And here I thought a month was a long time between posts. I've been meaning to post, but I've been so damn busy that I just keep pushing it further and further back. Every year I feel like time flies by faster and faster, but this semester has been absolutely insane. The older I get, the more it seems that time slips through my fingers. I guess working two jobs with a full course load will do that to you.
I ran my marathon a little over a week ago. I was publicly hoping to finish under for hours, and privately hoping for three and three quarter hours. I finished at 3:40:02, so I was pretty thrilled with that. About 15 km in I developed a blister on my heel, and I altered my stride to compensate, causing my hip to start bothering me around the 30 km mark, so I feel like I even have room to improve on that time if I can stay healthy. Next year.
I got my UTAPS grant funding last week too, which was fantastic. I'm now less than $3,000 in debt to the government, a mark which I think I can bring to zero early next year. That means that all I'll need to move out is a permanent job, hopefully also early next year.
I need to hold onto that hope tight, because the interim is going to be unbelievably depressing. Without school, I'll be stuck living and working in Scarborough, limited to an extremely narrow social circle. This is not something to which I am looking forward. The time between finishing school and leaving home I expect to be extremely unpleasant. Next week is reading, and I expect that to be a grim vision of my future.
Now I'm sad. Maybe that's why I don't post much anymore?
Thursday, September 5, 2013
I added this job to my LinkedIn page, and it really stood out to me that I have a very specific experience set. Somehow, without ever trying, I've become a relative expert in project administration, community engagement, and non-profit work. I don't know how I ended up here. I never tried to get into this industry, and I never made a concerted effort to channel my experience in this direction. I started as a Page nearly a decade ago because I wanted a decent, safe part-time job. My other relative skills (mostly being good at writing and talking, and adept with technology) opened up opportunities for me with other projects within the library system, most of which I did because they paid well. I eventually settled with Leading to Reading because I knew the job, I was comfortable doing it, and at that time I needed to settle somewhere.
I've worked in a number of different jobs now, but I haven't worked for a for-profit company since tenth grade, over a decade ago. My education is geared toward work in libraries, particularly public libraries. There is an excellent chance that I will never work anywhere but non-profit and government roles again.
This isn't a problem, I actually quite like what I do. It was just a bit of a stunning realization that , while I thought I was just meandering through life taking my time, it turns out I was gathering skills and experience which all pointed me in the same direction, I just wasn't looking.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Montreal was fantastic. I'd only been once or twice before, and the last time I think I was still in high school, and was there for one of my brother's soccer tournaments. Also, since I'd last been to Montreal I've been to Vancouver, Victoria, Calgary, Edmonton, Ottawa, and Halifax, as well as countless smaller Canadian cities and a few American ones as well. I may have written here before, but as much as I loved some of those cities (particularly Vancouver, Victoria, and Halifax) and would be happy to live there, none of them ever felt close to the same size as Toronto. Even Vancouver, which truly is a big city in relative terms, is only about half the size of Toronto, and felt every bit that way.
Montreal, however, was a completely different story. Montreal felt like a big city, comparable to Toronto. Unlike Toronto, Montreal has done a fantastic job of preserving its history and historic areas, which I really appreciated. There are bike paths everywhere in the downtown, and drivers go out of there way to stop for cyclists. The city felt vibrant and alive, and it felt big without feeling like it was trying to be a big city when it wasn't, a vibe I get from some places (Ottawa, being a prime example). When I eventually left, it took me hours to cycle through all the suburbs to get out. The saddest part for me was that I don't have a good reason to go back any time soon.
After two days in Montreal, I set out bright and early on my bike toward Ottawa. The first day, it poured with rain. I got absolutely drenched. It wasn't as awful as I thought it could be, and I wasn't miserable, but I was wet and uncomfortable. It also rained all evening, which had me going to bed at 9:30 after eating soggy freeze dried mac and cheese in the rain. I made it just under 100 km on the first day, going from Montreal to Voyageur Provincial Park. The campsite was beautiful, particularly in the morning when the sun came up. I was situated right on the side of the Ottawa River, and it was very scenic.
The second day, I covered a lot more ground. I left the park bright and early again, and rode the entire Prescott-Russell Trail and Trail link, more than 100 km. The trail is along a Via rail rail-bed through rural Ontario; I saw an awful lot of cows and corn. I didn't realize that the trail doesn't really cross any towns, and while I brought two water bottles, 100 km is a long way on a hot day. By the time I reached the outskirts of Ottawa I had long run dry, and I stopped at the first place I could buy water to load up. Lesson learned: never count on finding water.
I continued through Ottawa, cycling through some decrepit industrial parks, as well as a beautiful section along the Rideau Canal and then an extended stretch along the Ottawa River. My campground was on the far side of Ottawa, in Nepean, Ontario. In all, I cycled over 140 km, which took me over eight and a half hours, under heavy load. I am actually really proud of that mark; it was really tough and I don't anticipate breaking it any time soon. I think I could have gone further, if I'd had to, but I don't know how much further.
Unfortunately, I wasn't given a choice about stopping. About a kilometer outside my destination, my chain jammed, and my rear derailleur folded like a cheap suit and snapped, taking my chain with it. My chain I could have fixed, but the derailleur was done, and without it so was I. Putting my bike in fixed gear for 350+ km simply wasn't an option. I camped overnight, and in the morning I was forced to call my parents to get me.
It was an incredibly disappointing end, but I'm glad that I at least made it as far as Ottawa. I did have a really great time in the short period I was cycling, and I can't wait to try another trip next year. I've got another overnight trip planned for this weekend to Emily Provincial Park, about 100 km away, but that's it until next year. I'm thinking that in the spring, after beefing up some of my bike components, I might try and make it to Ottawa from Toronto and back again. We'll see.
I spent the next day in Ottawa with my parents, before heading back to Toronto. One nice perk was that I was able to make an extra run into Quebec and pick up some beer, where it's far cheaper. Between that and Montreal, I brought home quite a haul:
Of course, in a couple of weeks when I have to quit drinking for a month for my marathon training, this pile will be teasing me every day.
I also had something else exciting happen over this trip. I was offered, and accepted, a position as a Project Coordinator at University of Toronto Scarborough, my former school. I start next week, but from what I understand, I'll be primarily coordinating undergraduate fieldwork. I'm really excited about this, and I can't wait to get going.
Monday, August 19, 2013
I completed my last assignment today, and it feels like I'm finally coming up for air after weeks of being submerged in work and stress. I worked a ton of hours over the last two weeks as well as dealing with two major assignments, but the payoff is that I am now off both work and school for the next ten days.
I'm using that ten days for that longer trip I mentioned last post. My trip to Darlington was an overwhelming success, and a ton of fun, so now I'm trying something much bigger. Tomorrow morning I'm driving to Montreal, and beginning Thursday I'm going to cycle back to Toronto. Six hundred kilometers in six days, and I'm incredibly excited.
I'll be taking pictures on the way, and I'm sure I'll be back to post about it after. For now, I have to frantically go pack.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
I finished my first "semester" of summer courses, and now I'm on to my second. This one looks like a much higher workload, but also potentially much more engaging. I'm optimistic. Mostly though, I'm looking forward to being done. I've only got 17 more weeks of classes, spread over the next five months (not that I'm counting or anything).
I also wrapped up the school-year program at work, and launched the summer program. I've decided that I kind of hate the summer program. It's the same amount of work to launch as the school year, but it's only seven weeks long, making it more stressful and feel like an enormous waste of energy. I know I have to do something all summer to justify getting paid, and there's plenty of demand for the program, it just feels like it could be done better.
I actually registered for the Toronto Waterfront Marathon. I'm definitely doing it, now that they have my money. My long runs are up over a half-marathon length, so I'm confident that I can do it. I've also started moving some of my daily 10k runs outside, as I need to transition my body into running on pavement, and be ready for hills.
I also bought a bike. It's a hybrid between a mountain and road bike, and I love it. It's fast, but it's also durable. I've started to load up on accessories, spending a small fortune at Mountain Equipment Coop, and in two weeks I'm going to cycle to Darlington Provincial Park, camp overnight, and cycle back. It's kind of a dry run for a much longer trip I'm hoping to attempt at the end of the summer, and I'm really excited about that.
Between all the biking and running, I'm actually struggling to keep my weight up, which is new for me. My average calorie burn is approaching 4,000 per day, and eating 4,000 calories without turning to junk food is effectively impossible. I eat until I'm sick, and I still run a deficit. I'm going to have to find new ways to deal with that.
I'm going to try and get back into a more regular posting rhythm here, but I suspect until the end of the semester, my posts will continue to be sporadic. Oh well.
Friday, June 14, 2013
In some cases I completely understand why it bothers me. My brother is an alright driver, but he's still a little rough with stick shift, and dealing with that distracts him, which occasionally terrifies me. My mom is fully capable of driving stick, and has been doing it for probably around 30 years, but she's also lazy. She often won't drop to a lower gear when she should, and just floors the gas pedal instead. That bugs me, but what makes me even more nervous is the idea that, if she doesn't do that right, what other shortcuts is she taking that I don't notice?
Even with my dad, who is an excellent driver, and other people I trust, I still find myself checking their blind spots and monitoring traffic in neighbouring lanes. I don't even mean to do it, I just can't help myself. In my last relationship I did all the driving, which was probably a good thing because it might have generated a lot of friction if I had to ride with someone on a regular basis. Hopefully my next girlfriend will be happy to let me do most of the driving. It's a good thing that I actually like to drive.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
I'm not sure if this is a bad thing. I write more of what I want, which means I suppose I enjoy it more, and it has worked just fine so far in terms of grades. However, I don't know if it's exactly healthy that I'm so inclined to barely try to meet the requirements. It's probably a good thing that I graduate this year.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
I always have mixed emotions on this day. On the one hand, I'm sad because I have to say goodbye to some really great kids and volunteers who are not returning. I also see the end of some relationships between kids and volunteers who worked really well together all year, but for whatever reason won't be paired again in the future.
On the other hand, I also know that I now get a chance to fix some mistakes and eliminate some headaches, as I start to plan for the next session. Selfishly, I also look forward to the break. For the next three weeks I can relax and work at my own pace. I can, within reason, set my own schedule, rather than being a slave to the program hours. I've had four Saturdays off since October, so the idea of three off in a row sounds heavenly. These little breaks keep me from getting burned out in this job.
I also find myself doing a lot of reflection on days like today. When I started in LTR as a volunteer, way back in 2003, I was really only doing it to get my volunteer hours for high school. However, I think I was more responsible than your average tenth grader, and so even though I didn't plan on making a career out of working with children, I was going to make sure that I did this well, because I had committed to it. I did it for one year, and then I did it again the next year, mostly because they called and asked, and I didn't want to say no. I didn't dislike it, but I also didn't fall in love with it. That said, I was in high school, and I'm pretty sure I hated everything, so not hating this was kind of a big deal.
I didn't return in 2005, but in 2006 the Site Monitor at the branch in which I was working as a Page was desperate for volunteers. She found out that I had been one in the past, and begged me to take on a session. I agreed, mostly to help her out. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.
In January of 2007, the Site Monitor took a job elsewhere in TPL, and her position was vacated. In situations like that, until the position can be filled, branches appoint a Page to take over in the interim. I was actually only the third most senior Page at the time, but my branch was experiencing such a staffing crisis at that time that the two ahead of my were both already appointed to other positions. In fact, things were so dire that I agreed to pick up extra hours so that I could continue to work as a Page, as well.
The LTR Coordinator had been trying to recruit me as a Site Monitor since the day I was hired in TPL. I'm still not entirely sure why; I was reliable as a volunteer, but I don't think I was especially spectacular at it. Still, she apparently saw something in me. Claiming that the branch, which had been through a string of Site Monitors, needed stability and someone who knew LTR, rather than another new person, she pulled some strings to ensure I stayed until the end of the LTR session. She even got me a TPL email address, years before Pages were given email accounts, which helped me snare another job elsewhere in the system doing some seniors programming a couple of years later.
By summer, they had found a new permanent Site Monitor, and I returned to being a Page. But, in 2010, the same thing happened, and I once again took over the program for the remainder of the year. They thought they had found someone permanent again by the summer, but chaos within the internal hiring system, as happens sometimes, resulted in them posting the position again, and bringing a Site Monitor from another branch over for the summer. I continued to run the program on Saturdays, but not weekdays.
At the urging of just about everyone, I applied for the still vacant position. I didn't think I had enough seniority yet, so I was fairly surprised when I got the interview. The problem was, I wasn't sure if I actually wanted the job or not. I had been doing some really interesting programming work throughout Scarborough, and with my branch again in staffing chaos, I was working nearly full-time. Taking the Site Monitor job would mean less hours and less money. However, it also meant a guarantee of hours and income, while the extra hours and work I was doing as a Page could dry up at any time. In the end, that, and the fact that I realized that I really liked working as a Site Monitor, won out, and I took the job.
That was nearly three years ago, and I don't regret my decision for a second. I've been relocated since then, and I was sad to leave the branch I essentially grew up in, but I still do the same work, and that's what matters. LTR has become a part of my identity now, without me even realizing it. It makes me sad that, when I graduate this fall, I'm going to have to try and leave this job. More than any other job I've ever done, I frequently leave at the end of the day exhausted, frustrated, and stressed. And yet, I wonder if I spend the next forty years in TPL, if I'll ever find another job I love more.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
I'm not sure if there's anything in particular that made me so risk-averse. Obviously, nobody likes to fail, but I think I've taken it a little beyond normal. I can't even remember the last time I tried for something and didn't succeed. I never tried out for any sports teams or clubs before I knew I'd make it. I've never asked a girl out without first knowing she'd say yes. I did fail a few classes in my first couple of years of undergrad, as I wrote about before, but I changed programs, found success, and moved on with my life.
I still don't want to fail, but I also don't want to let that fear paralyze me. I don't want to be afraid to take risks. I have to overcome that, or I'll risk missing out on a lot in life. So, with that in mind, I think I'm going to sign up to run the Toronto Waterfront Marathon in October.
I've been considering it for a while now. I was thinking that I would try a marathon training routine, and if I could still manage the routine closer to the actual marathon, I would sign up. The problem with that, is that is exactly what I always do. I wait until I'm confident that I won't fail, and then I decide to try. Well, I am not at all confident that I can do this. And that's why I want to commit to it now. It's terrifying, but I think it might be a good terrifying.
It's funny, my ex-girlfriend used to try to convince me to pick up a hobby or a sport. She had this idea that I was always doing what other people wanted to do, and I needed to find something that was mine, and I did because I wanted to. It was while that relationship was crumbling down around me that I got back into running, something that I had been doing sporadically since high school. As things were going badly in my relationship, I used running as a way to balance myself, as an escape from my emotions and a chance to clear my head. I also needed as something in my life that was within my control.
It wasn't the first time that I've used running as an escape when I was experiencing a rough time in my life. However, this was the first time that it stuck. In the past, things had gotten better and I had eventually stopped running. This time, I stuck with it, because I found that even though I was feeling better, I still wanted it in my life. It has become that hobby that I had never wanted.
Now, I'm going to use it to try and improve myself again. I want to succeed at this marathon, and I'm going to train hard to do my best, but even if I fail, I'll still have accomplished one of my goals. I hope that doesn't defeat the purpose.
Monday, June 3, 2013
I've been trying to work more cross-training into my workout routine. Running is great, but I feel like I should mix some other things in, on top of the running, to keep myself balanced. I've been doing some core exercises and a little bit of weight training for months, but now that the weather is nicer I'm trying to work in regular swimming and cycling.
I'm off Sundays, so it has kind of become my heavy workout day. I do my long runs on Sundays, and since I have the time I try and cycle too. This past Sunday, it poured with rain during the morning and early afternoon, but it cleared up in the late afternoon, so I decided to head out on my bike.
I usually bike along the lakefront and through the Rouge Valley. I like the scenery, and it's mostly free of cars, which is always nice. On Sunday, I was feeling good, so I decided to go a little further than I usually do and head through the valley behind UTSC. On the way back, I took an alternate path to avoid using the road. Coming down a hill, I rounded a corner, and discovered that the path was covered in about six inches of mud. Unable to grip the road, my bike slid out one way, and I went another way, sliding about five feet through mud.
Aside from a couple of nasty scrapes on my elbows, I was fine. I was also absolutely coated, head to toe, in mud. My bike, also covered in mud, had its chain come off and my front brakes were broken. I found a deep puddle and did my best to wash some of the mud off, reattached my chain, and attempted the approximately 10 km back home without front brakes.
Unfortunately, my route back took me along the waterfront, which was full of people on the now pleasant Sunday afternoon. Bleeding and covered in mud, I attracted a few stares. In retrospect, it was pretty funny, but at the time it was rather embarrassing. I'm just glad nobody saw me actually crash.
The worst damage came this morning. I had thought that my phone had survived the adventure, but apparently not. After my run, I dropped it into it's dock, but it didn't start to charge. The dock uses the POGO pins on the side, but it can occasionally be flaky, so I pulled out a microUSB cable, and plugged it manually. It still didn't start to charge, and after a couple of seconds, I smelled burning. Panicking, I pulled the cable. It looked fine, so I tried again. This time, smoke started to come out.
I don't know whether mud got in there, or the fall knocked something out, but one way or another, it's good and dead. It's really inconvenient, since I was hoping to hold out until October when a new Nexus device is announced. Now, I need to find another device to hold me over until then. In the meantime, I have an old flip phone. I already feel lost without my smartphone.
It hasn't been a good couple of days.
Friday, May 31, 2013
I love wilderness in general really; I'm happy doing day trips to go hiking, swimming, or cycling, but camping gives you the opportunity to really experience a place on another level. I love everything about it, even the parts other people find less appealing, like the long drives, sleeping on the ground, and the general high level of work associated with the experience. I am rarely more content and at peace than when staring into the embers of a dying fire, as the night winds down.
A couple of years ago, when I went out west with my family, we drove through the Rockies. I stayed in hotels and lodges that time, but I would give just about anything to go back and camp there; it was probably the most spectacular place I've been in my life. That said, there are a ton of great places in Ontario to go, including Algonquin park, which is probably my favourite place in Ontario not just for camping, but in general.
Every year around this time I really start to get the itch to go camping again. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen this year. My friends are not campers. They don't want to drive that far, they don't want to sleep on the ground, and they don't want to do all the work. They don't get it. When I try and convince them to go, they insist they'd rather rent a cottage or stay in a hotel somewhere. We've done that before, and it was a lot of fun, but it wasn't the same as camping. Not even close.
It's times like this that I really, really hate being single. I used to go a few times each year with my family, but they haven't been camping in about a decade, since my parents decided that they were too old to sleep on the ground anymore. The only times I've been since are when I've had a girlfriend who has been willing to tolerate it. I don't have a lot of set requirements for relationships, but in order to be my girlfriend, you definitely need to be willing to go camping (and not be miserable).
Oh well, there's always next year, I suppose.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
HALIFAX — Halifax police say they’ve taken the rare step of laying child pornography charges against a 14-year-old boy after he allegedly videotaped himself having sex with a 15-year-old girl and posted it online.The video was posted on a social media site on April 5 following a party at a Halifax residence and investigators became aware of it three days later, Const. Pierre Bourdages said.“This is very unusual,” Bourdages said Wednesday. “It’s not something we’ve seen lately. It’s very troubling.”Bourdages said the sex was consensual but the accused posted a video of the act without the girl’s consent. Investigators believe he acted alone and while the two youths knew each other, Bourdages wouldn’t comment on the status of their relationship.
The above is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night.
People do terrible things to each other every day in this world. Children are people too, obviously, and they do awful things to each other as well. We deal with that by punishing them in various ways. Our society is structured around ensuring that punishments best fit the crimes they are punishing. So, a child who assaults a classmate is likely to receive a harsher punishment than a child who is simply disruptive in class.
That system has all kinds of flaws. I think we still struggle with assigning appropriate punishments for certain offences because we differ so dramatically on the severity of that offence. Verbal bullying, I think, still ranks below physical bullying on the general punishment scale, and I'm not sure at all that it should. Still, we try our best to muddle through, and we adjust our punishments as our perceptions change on the nature of various offences.
Where it all breaks down for me, is in situations like the above. That poor fifteen year old girl may have had her life ruined by this incident. She may be traumatize forever, and she may never be the same. My heart goes out to her. Throughout any consideration of this incident, we must keep in mind that she, and she alone, is the victim here. She deserves everyone's unconditional support and sympathy, and ignoring or minimizing what has happened to her is completely unfair.
There is nothing that can make this better for that poor girl, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. This kind of thing is absolutely unacceptable, and cannot be tolerated in any form. We saw what happened in the Rehtaeh Parsons case earlier this year, when a similar situation was handled the opposite way, and ended in terrible tragedy. We cannot allow that kind of mistake to be repeated.
All that said, while the incident itself is absolutely unacceptable, and it would be unforgivable in an adult, when placed in the context of a fourteen year old boy, I'm not sure if it is unforgivable. I've spent years now working with teenage boys, and I know that by their very nature, they are foolish, impulsive, rash, and negligent creatures. They do stupid things all the time, and they make a ton of mistakes. This was a monumentally stupid mistake, far exceeding any mistake that I have ever made in my life, during my teenage years or otherwise, but it is also a fourteen year old's mistake.
So, how do we deal with this kind of a mistake. Obviously, we need to make absolutely certain that this boy, and every other person, understands that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable. We need to set a punishment that would make anyone else think twice before committing the same crime. We need to do our absolute best to make sure that nothing like this ever happens. And of course we need to make sure that justice is served for the poor girl involved. But, in the process, do we want to ruin the life of a fourteen year old boy? While he may have ruined the life of this poor girl, is it fair to ruin his in response? I'm not sure.
I don't disagree with the charges laid by the Halifax police, but I don't know from the article what kind of a sentence the boy is facing. Even if I did, I don't know whether it would change my opinion. I really don't know what to think about this kind of case. It's about as grey of a zone as it can get. I'm completely conflicted.
Of course, I think the best way to fix this kind of thing is to instill respect for women at a young age in boys. Unfortunately, while that would certainly help, I don't know that any level of education or indoctrination can fully combat the stupidity of teenage boys, and it doesn't help us today either way.
The world is a strange and wonderful place, most of the time, but not always.
The tradeoff, unfortunately, is that I feel like I'm relying far too much on soy these days. Even discounting the soy milk I have each morning, at least one of my meals each day seems to have a soy product in it. With increased scrutiny on my diet, as well as my continued drive to raise my fitness level to new heights, I've become a lot more conscious of making sure I get plenty of protein. As a vegetarian, my sources of protein are limited from the get go, and I double down on that problem by limiting my cheese intake. Peanut butter is great but not the most versatile ingredient and high in fat. So I find myself turning to the wide array of soy-based simulated meat products to fit some extra protein into my meals more than I ever did before.
I have no evidence that this is necessarily a bad thing, though I haven't really looked. I just don't like having so much of my diet so dependent on a single product, particularly a heavily processed one. I'm trying to start working in some Greek yogurt, which is high in protein, as another option, but like peanut butter, Greek yogurt isn't the most versatile. I don't really have an answer to the problem, and I'm not sure if there is one. For now, it's just a tightrope which I continue to walk.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
I have a group project, in which I have to give a 45 minute presentation on cataloguing of graphic materials. I'm not sure if I'll stay awake through my own presentation, so I can't imagine how the people listening to us will manage. I also find that I have to keep rechecking my emails to my group before I send them, in order to make sure that I remove any snark. I have a real hard time talking about this seriously, as if it matters or anyone cares, but I have to keep in mind that some of my group members might be interested in this subject. Though for their sakes, I hope they have better things going on in their lives.
This Jays season has been about as disheartening as I could possibly imagine. After years of mediocrity, I really thought they had a chance this year. A good one. For the first time ever, I didn't laugh at the notion that my flex pack gives me first crack at playoff tickets.
Instead, it has been a constant struggle. Every time they look like they might be turning a corner, they fall back again, and they're running out of time. They may have already run out of time. Injuries have taken a toll, but it seems like one day they pitch and the next they hit, and they rarely do both on the same day. They give just enough to lose. I'm sure that's not really true, but it feels that way.
I'll still watch, because I'll always watch. I watched when they lost 90+ games, and I'll watch this year no matter how bad it might get. But it's disheartening.
Update: Of course, if I'd actually been watching today's game, instead of turning it off in favour of school work when they gave up two runs in the top of the ninth to go down by three, I'd know they stormed back to win the game, making this about the least appropriate time to post this all year. Still, it all remains true.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
I normally run in the morning, about an hour after I wake up. Saturdays are the one day that I can't do that; I don't have enough time to do all that and still be ready to go by 8:45. I'd have to be up at 6 am, which would prevent me from ever going anywhere or doing anything on Friday nights. So instead, I typically run first thing after work, shortly after 4. However, my body is so used to burning all that energy first thing in the day, that by noon I'm typically so restless that I'm pacing from my office to the program room. I need to get outside, stretch, and burn some energy.
I've also come to really value the fresh air and change of scenery. I've always been a big believer that it is important to get out of the branch on my lunch. For years, I would buy all my lunches just for the excuse to go for a walk. However, that ended when I effectively cut junk food from my diet and started more heavily controlling what I eat. Since I've never been much of an aimless walker, I needed a new excuse to leave.
I actually kind of despise Tim Hortons. That hasn't always been true; at one time I loved them. When I was in high school, there was a Tim Hortons on the walk from the bus station to my school, and I would often stop in before school or on my way home. I started drinking coffee around tenth grade, and I would frequently pick up double-doubles. By twelfth grade, I had moved on to strictly black coffee, but I had a weakness for Iced Caps.
My feelings toward the chain started to change when I realized how consistently awful the service was. They would screw up my orders regularly, even the basic ones (they sometimes managed to mess up black coffee). I discovered that this was not limited to my local Tim Hortons either. The majority of Toronto Tim Hortons locations have had borderline incompetent staff. I don't actually blame the staff members for this. The problem, as far as I see it, is that Tim Hortons pays their staff the bare minimum and seems to work them hard and treat them badly. Nobody capable of working elsewhere would work there, so they're left with new Canadians with little to no English and limited education. They're also under intense pressure to move fast, which results in them forgoing getting it right.
I've also felt like the quality of the Tim Hortons products has taken a bit of a nose dive. I'm sure some of that is my tastes changing. Their coffee, which I once enjoyed greatly, I now practically need to hold my nose to drink, but I suspect most of that is as a result of frequenting many of Toronto's more premium coffee outlets, as well as the Keurig brewer I bought and installed next to my bed (yeah, I may be an addict). Unquestionably, though, their sandwiches and baked goods have all dropped in quality. I'm sure they're now cheaper to make and/or easier to transport, but the result is that everything ranges from barely passable to outright disgusting.
I still use Tim Hortons as the destination for my walks, mostly because there isn't really anywhere else to go. That's the only reason I ever go to Tim Hortons: they're so damn ubiquitous. I occasionally get their coffee, if I really need a fix, but mostly I get tea, since it's not awful. What fascinates me, however, is that every time I go into a Tim Hortons, all the baked products (donuts, muffins, cookies, etc) behind the glass counter look delicious. I have no idea what kind of black magic they use to accomplish this, because I know that I will enjoy none of them. Their muffins and cookies are either dry or disgustingly buttery, and I never liked donuts much even before I disliked Tim Hortons. I don't understand it. Something tells me they're not going to put a Starbucks in Malvern any time soon, so I guess I'll probably have plenty more time to try and figure it out. Unfortunately.
It's funny, I know people who work for successful tech and digital publishing companies who are annoyed when their IT department takes a few hours to address their issues. Me? I'm happy when they replace my obsolete browser with an only slightly outdated one.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Thankfully, I don't really care. That's not what this place is for.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
I took computer engineering throughout high school, and while I was successful at it, I loved programming and my computer science class far more. I was also obsessed with computers and technology in general. I built my own computers, and built absurdly over-complicated technological systems to handle simple problems. I had no doubt in my mind that this was my future.
The first hint of a problem came in 12th grade. For the first time in my life, I struggled with an academic class (I always had trouble with art, being colour blind), and it was a critical class for computer scientists: math. I'd spent years coasting along on natural ability in math, never needing to study and never really breaking a sweat. That all started to fall apart, and I didn't know how to respond, so I kept on as I always had, and I finished with a low B. That was bad, but it wasn't bad enough to knock my average below an A, and it wasn't bad enough to affect my university offer of admission. I was still going to UofT for computer science. Everything was still on track.
That didn't last long. In my very first semester, I became acquainted with failure for the first time in my life. I had calculus, Mondays and Wednesdays at 8 am, and I think I fell asleep in every class. I'm not sure how anyone else didn't; at 8 am the campus Tim Hortons wasn't even open yet. Worse than failing though, was the feeling that maybe I actually couldn't do this. It wasn't just me making silly mistakes and mental errors, by the end of the year I still really didn't know what I was doing. I could have retaken the exam a dozen times and failed every time.
However, I didn't really know what else to do with my life, so I plugged away. One failure wasn't so bad. I retook the class in the second semester, and managed a B. Unfortunately, I also took linear algebra that semester, and while I didn't fail, I scraped by with a D. Given that I was looking at a minimum of two more linear algebra classes (not to mention several more calculus classes), which built upon the one I had almost failed, a D was not good enough. Worse than that even, I found myself enjoying my computer science classes less and less. I was still doing alright in terms of grades, mostly B level work, but it wasn't fun. In high school, I used to look forward to my computer science classes. Now, I began to dread them almost as much as the math.
It didn't help that my personal life was a bit of a mess. In my first year, I made friends with a group of guys who became a major distraction for me. That first year became a blur of afternoon ping pong and evening drinking games. It wasn't that I fell in with the wrong crowd or anything like that; they were a good group of guys. However, they were probably about as frat boy as a group of computer science students can be, and academics were low on their priority list, and that caused it to slip on my own. Of the four of them, after three semesters, two had transferred to college, one had decided to take a year off to work and refocus, and one had changed majors.
That probably would have helped my academic performance a great deal, except that right around the same time, I had a nearly three year relationship implode. It was about as messy of an end as could be, and I basically lost another semester as I fell about as low as I've been in my life. That was the end of my career in computer science. My GPA wasn't high enough to stay in the program, and I hated it anyway. Plus, I needed to make broad changes in my life.
Thus began my brief tenure as a French major, a path which was somehow more disastrous than computer science. I had continued French all throughout high school, even after it had become optional, and I had been taking general French classes throughout my first two years of undergraduate. I didn't love it, but I thought it would be useful, and I was good at it. At that time, I needed to find something I was good at.
Except it turns out that while I was good at language practice, I wasn't so hot at doing other things in French. I tried to take a French cinema class, in which we watched and analyzed movies entirely in French (no subtitles). I failed it miserably. I was able to pass a French folklore class, but not particularly well. It became pretty clear that my future was not in French.
I had needed to fill a spot in my schedule, so on a whim I had registered for 20th century European history, figuring that it was one of the few disciplines I could manage without having much of a background in it. I surprised myself by loving the class, and discovered at the end that I was good at it too. Apparently, I had a talent for essay writing. I switched my major to history, mostly because I had very little choice at that point, and I never looked back. It was the best decision I made in my academic career.
At the end of my six year undergraduate adventure, I applied to library school and was accepted (I'll save that choice for another post). It was about as far from my eighth grade vision of myself as I could possibly be. However, as messy as the journey was, I don't regret it at all. Experiencing failure, and learning how to deal with it, was something I needed to do. I also (hopefully) got the wildness out of my system. I have some great stories and memories, but I can't see myself ever wanting to go to another frat party kegger again.
I also learned not to count on anything, when it comes to my future. My vision of myself and my future has been completely overturned time and time again, and so while I have a general idea of where I'm going, I won't count any chickens. I take everything one day at a time.
Today, as it happens, was a very good day. More on that later, maybe.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
I was talking to one of my friends last week about this stuff. I'm now only five years away from being thirty, which seems insane. Thirty seems like it is thoroughly adult territory. There are no exceptions for being foolish and young when you're thirty. While I'm actually not the type to make foolish and young kind of mistakes, not having that safety net of a built in excuse is kind of terrifying.
I'm also now approaching a decade a TPL, and it seems all but certain that before my career here is done, I'll have amassed fifty years of service. Fifty! I don't even want to imagine how much of my hair I'll be pulling out by then.
It feels like just yesterday that I was just turning eighteen, and feeling like I was finally old enough to explore the world on my own terms. While I don't feel like I've wasted much of the last seven years, I'm beginning to feel like the window to live on entirely my own terms is closing. It's nothing to panic over, but it's hard to shake that feeling.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Still, this post isn't about the mayor, it's about the Toronto Star. Thursday night, Gawker, a notorious gossip site, published a story that they had seen a video of Toronto Mayor Rob Ford smoking crack cocaine. A few hours later, the Toronto Star went live with an obviously rushed story indicating that two of their journalists had also seen the video, confirmed and expanded upon many of the details, and claimed they had been sitting on the story for two weeks.
The story has exploded, for obvious reasons. Ford has effectively refused comment, and Gawker is trying to crowdsource $200,000 to purchase and publish the video. Even the right-leaning National Post and their firmly right-wing columnist Christie Blatchford (a woman for whom I have no love whatsoever) has fled the Ford camp (to the surprise of nobody, the Sun remains firmly entrenched).
What has also exploded, interestingly enough, is the debate over the Star's decision to run the story. The whole thing is tainted by the long-running feud between the paper and the mayor, but mostly people were left wondering why the Star waited two weeks to run the story, and why, when Gawker went with it, they rushed it out.
Personally, I don't understand the confusion. I have no insight into the thought process of the Star's editorial board, but I can suggest numerous reasons beyond not wanting to be scooped by Gawker. Perhaps the Star was still negotiating to buy the video, but once the story broke they concluded that it wasn't in the cards. Perhaps they were just waiting for another organization to break the story first, believing themselves to be too exposed to lawsuits if they were the only organization with the story. Perhaps they were still doing legwork on other elements, like looking deeper into Ford's past for a history of drug use, or deeper into the pasts of their sources, but once the story broke they felt they had to run what they had.
As for why the Star chose to leave their sources anonymous? Well, if you were dealing with Somali crack dealers for a videotape they were trying to sell which would incriminate an extremely powerful man, would you choose to expose them? It would put them, and the Star's reporters, at risk.
I have some issues with the story in general (mostly, how do we know what he was smoking was crack?), and I really, really want to see this video come out. Of course, I'm also conflicted by the idea of giving $200,000 to crack dealers. It's a crazy story in almost every way.
I've written in the past about how little I play games anymore. I actually use my Xbox a ton, but I use it almost exclusively for Netflix and MLB.tv. It's amazing how quickly my interest in games has waned. When Halo 3 was released, in 2007, I lined up for the midnight launch, went straight home, and played the entire campaign through with one of my friends, finishing around 7 am. I also logged hours and hours on the online multiplayer. When Halo 4 came out last year, I waited weeks to pick it up, played halfway through the campaign before effectively losing interest, and never touched the multiplayer.
There are plenty more examples. I played Borderlands compulsively in 2009, and I never even bought the sequel. Duke Nukem Forever, once among my most highly anticipated games of all time, I completely ignored when it came out. Far Cry 3, the indirect sequel to Far Cry 2 which I destroyed a few years ago, I bought and played for maybe ten minutes before losing interest. I can't remember the last time I stayed up all night to play a game, which I used to do regularly. It's probably been years.
I was actually never really into single player games. In fact, as far back as the N64, I only had a handful of games I ever logged much time on in single player. I was always a social gamer. In high school, I used to host LAN parties in which my friends would bring their Xboxes and we would play system link games. That was near the top of the list of geekiest things I've ever done, but fuck it, it was a lot of fun back then.
In my undergrad years, Xbox Live was the primary mechanism by which my friends and I would "hang out" on weeknights. We all had similar schedules with work/class during the day, and we were mostly too broke to go out much, so we would convene on Xbox Live at night. In some ways, that may have been the pinnacle of my gaming time. I would log hours on online multiplayer games, because I was always playing with my friends.
But that perfect storm couldn't last forever. Our schedules don't align as consistently, so we're not all online at the same time. We also have more money, so when we do have time to hang out, we're more inclined to do so in person. This is absolutely a good thing; I'd rather spend my evening sitting on a patio with my friends than playing Call of Duty with them. I feel like the memories I'll treasure most will not come though my TV.
Having read the description of the Xbox One, I'm sure I'll probably buy it, depending on when it launches and how much it costs. I like gadgets, and the Xbox 360 loads pretty slowly these days, which can be frustrating. But I don't see anything about it that would re-excite me about gaming in general. I don't know if there's anything that would ever truly recapture my interest. That part of my life may well be done.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you want an opinion on the Xbox One, I'm the wrong person to ask.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
I bounced around a lot of schools as a child. My parents moved pretty regularly; they have a habit of getting bored with a home and deciding to look for a new one. I don't think they've ever spent more than seven years in a single home before deciding to move. As a result, my high school was the sixth school I had attended. I even chose to go out of area, so once again I knew nobody, but that's a story for another time.
One thing was always consistent about my different schools: I was always one of, if not the, smartest kid in my class. Perhaps that's a little self-centred to say, but it's a fact. I always got the highest grades, I went to various special advanced classes, and I was acknowledged as the smartest by my classmates. Throughout grade school my teachers always loved me because I was quiet, I was always willing to help the other kids, and I compulsively followed all the rules. In high school I developed a rather deep seated cynicism and a penchant for caustic sarcasm, but I mostly maintained my compulsion for following the rules and my spot near the top of my class.
Being that smart actually hindered me in the end, as crazy as that sounds. I was able to cruise through school without working at all, until I finished high school. I never struggled with anything, and I never needed to study. I just breezed by on natural skill. Unfortunately, natural skill only took me so far. In university I hit a wall, and I hit it hard. I needed to work to do well, except that, as ridiculous as this sounds, I didn't know how. I spent two years barely keeping my head above water before I finally put it together, got back on track, and worked my way into B's and eventually A's.
Way before that though, in sixth grade, I was neck and neck with another boy, Blair, for the title of smartest. I remember in gym one day, the gym teacher asked the class who the smartest kid was (I don't remember why) and the class vote was basically split. At the end of sixth grade we had awards. Blair got the academic award, and I got the citizenship award, but everyone knew that I only really got the citizenship award because they couldn't give us both the academic award, and I had been a volunteer crossing guard (which fed nicely into my compulsion for the rules, I'm sure I was the strictest crossing guard in school history).
In middle school, I was no longer the consensus 'smartest'. The volume of children was just too high, and too spread out among classes. I was still near the top though. In eigth grade, my principal held a special advanced math class once a week, led by herself. Teachers could nominate students to attend, and my math teacher sent me. Near the end of the year, the class participated in the University of Waterloo Gauss math contest, a national (international?) contest for middle school students. I completed it and never really thought about it again.
A few weeks later, as I came back into the school from lunch, one of the other kids from the advanced math class spotted me and yelled out congratulations. A couple of the other kids started clapping. I had no idea what they were talking about.
It turned out that a couple of days earlier, during the morning announcements, they announced that I had topped the school in the Gauss contest. I think I placed in the top 30 in some sort of bounded region (Scarborough or Toronto or something) but I don't really recall. Anyway, the day they made the announcement I had been out sick.
I was sick a fair bit as a kid. It started because I was legitimately sick a lot; when I was in early grade school I would get colds almost constantly. They became less frequent over the years, but when I got hit, I got hit hard. Combined with a frequent difficulty finding friends (a by-product of constantly changing schools, being inherently shy, and probably just being smarter than most other kids) and secure in the knowledge that I would never have to worry about falling behind in class, I would beg my mom to let me stay home every time I had a runny nose. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. This time, it had worked.
I was never really good at anything athletic as a kid. I was born with a congenital cataract in my left eye. It's not visible, but it means my vision in my left eye can never be perfect, even with glasses. I'm convinced that the weakness in that eye was (and is) a contributing factor in my complete lack of coordination. I was also never particularly fast. I wasn't hopeless, but I was never better than average in anything athletic, and when I realized that I was never going to be particularly great, I think I stopped trying, which only made things worse.
Later in life I learned how to compensate for my lack of inherent talent at athletics. I discovered that in most sports I could be better than most others simply by being more determined, more fearless, and more willing to sacrifice my body. I'm not the biggest guy in the world, but I'm not undersized at all, and I can frequently use my size and strength as an advantage as well. I'm also head and shoulders above the (admittedly dismal) average fitness level among my peers, so most of the time I can win out simply by outlasting my opponents.
When you're a kid though, most of that doesn't matter. Natural skill seems to dominate, and I didn't have any. To me, it seemed as though the kids who were the best at gym were the coolest and the most respected and admired. In reality, I probably severely underestimated the level of respect (and probably jealousy) I commanded among my peers at that time. Still, I probably would have traded all my brains for brawn, if I could have.
This, however, was one of the few times where I was clearly and definitively being recognized and lauded for my academic achievements. This would have been one of my all time proudest moments, when all eyes were on me, and everyone took a moment to acknowledge something I had accomplished. And I missed it. I probably wasn't even really all that sick (I don't really remember).
Ever since that day, I've avoided taking sick days at all costs. I average less than one sick day per year from work. A few years ago I worked through what turned out to be respiratory influenza. I actually collapsed and blacked out briefly in the morning, but I was home alone and too sick/stupid to recognize that I was in no shape to go to work, and so I went in anyway. I wouldn't do that again; it's dangerous for both myself and my coworkers, but such was my dedication to my job. Colds don't keep me away from work or school, no matter how severe. I only take vacation when I'm actually going somewhere, and only the minimum amount.
I missed what I've always assumed would have been one of the greatest moments of my life, because I stayed home sick. I'm determined not to make that mistake again.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
There are a number of benefits to driving manual. The most obvious is that manual cars are cheaper, and you can save $1-2000 if you can drive stick. It's also just a useful skill to have. Manual drivers can always drive automatic cars (we just usually don't like it), but automatic drivers can't drive manual. If you go to many parts of the world, particularly Europe, you might have a hard time renting an automatic transmission, so knowing how to drive manual can be an incredibly useful skill when travelling. I also find that manual drivers tend to be better drivers, since the need to change gears manually forces them to be more aware of their speed and the things happening around them. Of course it's also a little bit of a point of pride among guys. There's still, I think, a lot of particularly testosterone fueled competition between guys over who is the best driver, and being able to drive manual, which so few people can do, is a big notch in your belt.
Unfortunately, the system in North America is stacked against manual drivers. Driving schools all teach in automatic, exclusively so in Toronto. Finding someone to teach you manual is really hard, and if you don't already know how, you can't buy a manual car, because you won't be able to drive it off the lot. For a lot of people, that means they will never have the chance to learn. For most of my friends, if I don't teach them, they literally don't know anybody else who could. I was lucky enough that my dad grew up in England, where he learned manual, and imported that skill to Canada where he taught my mom, and eventually myself. Without that, I'd probably be driving manual like everyone else.
Anyway, that was a surprisingly long and unnecessary tangent which has served to thoroughly bury the lede. Really, this post was meant to be about the new car. Which, for the record, is fantastic. It's like I took my old car, which I really liked, and fixed almost every nagging flaw. The clutch is like silk, and changing gears is buttery smooth. The biggest differences are in the on-board computer. My last car effective didn't have one, but this one definitely does. A little display next to my (still digital) spedometer shows all kinds of useful info, including the car's mileage and remaining range, the audio source, and info from my phone. Bluetooth lets me link my phone in and make and receive calls, as well as play music and podcasts from my phone, the lack of which was probably my biggest annoyance with the last car. Possibly my favourite new feature, however, is the automatic climate control. You set the temperature you want, and the car takes care of maintaining it, just like a home thermostat.
It's not perfect. Since my phone uses an old AVRCP protocol (Google's fault, not Honda's) it won't show incoming texts, track info, or incoming text messages, which is disappointing. While the black interior looks beautiful, I suspect it will get painfully hot in the summer. And all the expanded technology and features leave far less room for compartments to keep things in, meaning I can fit less random stuff in there. If that's the worst of my complaints, however, then I think I'm doing pretty well. The biggest drawback, to be honest, is that I'll need to live in constant terror of being the first to scratch or dent the thing.
Taking in the old car was strange. I drove it there after work, and handing over my key and watching them drive it off into the back was disconcerting. That said, it was over with pretty quickly, and I made my peace with it, I think. It served me well for a very long time, and hopefully the new one will too.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
I finished classes for the winter semester at the beginning of April, and with fall classes not beginning until September, I was looking at potentially five full months off of school. Five! There is no way I could sit at home for five months; I'm fairly confident that I would lose my damn mind. While I may not like some of the iSchool classes, they give me an excuse to leave the house and spend the day downtown, and the assigned work and the accompanying deadlines makes time seem to pass much faster.
Not to mention the social factor. I love my friends, but I don't have enough of them to spend five months with just them. The nature of my job means that I deal primarily with kids in high school, kids in grade school, and a little bit with parents (most of whom maintain a tenuous grasp on English); as a group they're not the greatest conversationalists. I don't interact with my coworkers much, so while I spend most of my days talking to people, it's not the same. School offers me a chance to chat with different people about different things (an opportunity I don't exploit nearly as much as I should, largely due to my crippling shyness, but it's better than nothing).
Thankfully, it looks like the summer schedule worked out for me; I got into four summer classes. It's far from ideal: I have class four days a week, and thanks to my work schedule I'll need to miss a lot of classes, which leaves me feeling a little like I'll be dancing through raindrops just to pass these classes, but it beats the hell out of staying home all day.
It also looks like I'll be picking up some extra hours at work, which I never anticipated, as I've been asked to take on an extra branch for the summer. With my counterpart at one of my other branches leaving, as I mentioned previously, I'll be picking up more administrative work there too, leaving me running nearly double the number of program hours, with only a few more hours of actual work time per week. I'm not complaining, as they're accommodating me in a number of other ways, but I anticipate that I'll be logging a bit of unpaid overtime this summer. At least I'll be busy, I guess.
It sure is a different reality that I'm facing than I had feared a few weeks ago.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
When I was in eighth grade, the school had a financial planner come to talk to the class. We did an exercise in which we had to plan about a decade of our lives and see how we would manage the associated costs. My plan had me finishing university by twenty-two, getting a full-time job and moving out by twenty-three, and by twenty-five I would have been well-established, living on my own, and possibly married. I may even have been planning on going to Waterloo for school, in which case I'd have moved out at 18.
The reality would probably have depressed eighth grade me. I'm twenty-five, and still in school, still living at home, and about as far from being married as I could be. Now that first bit is a little disingenuous, I suppose; I'm working on my Masters, which my initial plan didn't consider. It's also a little overly gloomy, since I'll be done my degree hopefully by the end of this year, and I'll be able to move out hopefully some time next year. It's also a far more common position than eighth grade me would have guessed; most of my friends still live at home and many are still in school for something, or are finding their degrees not particularly useful. Life just isn't as simple as you think it will be in eighth grade. Paths don't always go where you think they will, and they're rarely straight lines.
I'm also not happy about being single. As I've said before, I don't hate being single, but I'd rather not be. I'm not one of those people who has a meltdown every time they're single on their birthday because they're another year older, and they'll probably be alone forever (those people drive me nuts), but birthdays are one of the days of the year that I most appreciate being in a relationship (right up there with Christmas). This is actually only my third birthday single since I turned 18, which is pretty good, but the previous ones also feel pretty meaningless when I'm single now.
Hopefully by the time I turn 26 things will be a little brighter.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Unfortunately, that means saying goodbye to my current car. I always thought that guys forming emotional attachments to cars was both stupid, and largely an unfounded stereotype, but I'm actually finding myself surprisingly sad to be saying goodbye.While this technically isn't my car, I drive it more than anyone in my family, and it has been a constant in my life for seven years now. I learned to drive stick in that car (and fell in love with driving standard) and got my full G license in it. I've been on countless roadtrips and late-night coffee runs. I've been on first dates and job interviews, and I've fallen in love and had my heart broken in that car. I've grown up, and built countless memories in that car.
I'm sure the bells and whistles of the new car will soften the blow, and I'll make new memories in the new car, but I'll definitely miss this one. I've had it longer than my current house. Saying goodbye sucks.
Monday, April 29, 2013
As I alluded to at the end of my last post, I spent the last week on vacation, and went down to Cuba for a week. I'd been planning on going for months, but I waited until the last minute to book (literally a few days) in order to get a really cheap deal. With taxes and fees, it only cost me $580 for a week, all-inclusive. It was my third time down in Cuba, and it was a very different experience from the past two. I stayed at Club Amigo Atlantico Guardalavaca, a three star resort in Holguin. My first trip to Cuba was years ago, and I stayed at Blue Bay, a four star in Cayo Coco, and last year I spent a week at Paradisus Rio d'Oro, a five star also in Holguin.
As you would expect, the three star was nowhere near as nice as the past two resorts. In some ways that did not matter in the slightest, and in others it made a huge difference. The resort is also the oldest in Holguin, and it showed in some ways. The rooms were tiny, dorm room sized really, but that did not bother me at all, even compared to the palatial sized rooms of Paradisus. If you're down there for a week and you're spending more than the absolute minimal amount of time possible in your room, then something's wrong. They had beds, a bathroom, and a working air conditioner, and that was enough for me. An openable window with a screen would have been nice, but I literally could have paid a few dollars per night more for that, and it still wasn't worth it to me.
The rest of the resort's grounds were also older, but still very nice and absolutely competitive with other resorts. The resort is in the town of Guardalavaca, though I didn't stray from the resort much. The area next door is under construction as they are apparently building a new resort, and as a result some of the roads seemed to be blocked off. My resort didn't have their own private beach, but they were right next to the Guardalavaca public beach on the one side, and the Brisas Guardalavaca beach on the other. The public beach had the best swimming, but I spent more time at the Brisas beach as it was quieter. Being in Guardalavaca there were a lot of locals wandering around. It seemed every five minutes someone was offering to sell me cheap (read: fake) Cuban cigars. I also had a few offer to sell me weed, which was the first I'd ever heard of that happening.
The biggest drop off, and the one which I felt the most, was the food. The food at this resort was absolutely atrocious. To be fair, my most recent experience was Paradisus, which represents an unfair measuring line as the food there was outstanding, even by Canadian standards. Still, even though the food in Cuba is almost always bad, this was just terrible. The last couple of nights I literally brought a jar of peanut butter (brought from home) to the buffet and made myself peanut butter sandwiches for dinner. As a vegetarian, I'll always have a harder time finding decent meals than everyone else, especially in a place like Cuba where they make no effort to accommodate vegetarians, but even the non-vegetarians I spoke with said the same thing.
I actually got food poisoning one night, though I'm not sure that was necessarily a reflection on the food. I don't have a particularly weak stomach, but I always seem to get sick in Cuba. The last time I got such a bad infection that I needed three different antibiotics and there was much fear that I wouldn't be able to fly home. This time I only lost a day, during which I was too weak to get out of bed, but after that I was fine again. After last time, one day didn't seem bad at all.
I was travelling with a friend of mine, which was also a different experience. The last couple of times that I've gone I've been travelling with (now ex) girlfriends. Both have their advantages, and I definitely think travelling with a friend is more relaxing, as I wasn't always worrying about what he wanted or keeping him happy, but I still think I'd prefer to travel with a girlfriend. I had one really strange experience; when first visiting the Guardalavaca market, where I had come the past year with my girlfriend at the time, I had this brief sense of visceral panic, as though if I could only find the right cab I could go right back to my old life. It passed quickly, but I've never felt anything like that before, and it was incredibly disconcerting.
The interesting thing is, I'm not sure that I even want to go back to my old life. I miss that relationship sometimes, but life moves on and I've moved with it. I think that really what I miss is just being in a relationship. While I don't hate being single, I've always been happier in relationships than out of them. Still, nothing I can do about that for the time being; I'm not going to rush into a relationship for the sake of it.
Anyway, I only did one significant excursion this time: a catamaran trip that took us for some snorkeling in a reef. I did a very similar trip in Cayo Coco, and it's an amazing experience. They take you out on the boat and then a guide will swim around the reef, and while they suggest you follow him, they don't make you. I'm a fairly strong swimmer, especially in fins, and even though it was the day after I had food poisoning and I hadn't eaten anything in 36 hours, I could still swim laps around most of those people. I tried to stay with the group, but I immediately grew frustrated with the slow pace and being bumped by people incapable of keeping themselves afloat and simultaneously watching around them, so I quickly spun off on my own. It's an excursion that I recommend to anyone who's not afraid of the ocean, as there are so many amazing things to see. Also, though it wasn't during the excursion, I saw a small shark while snorkeling off the beach. It was about four feet long, and I think it was a reef shark. It was really awesome to see.
The rest of the trip I mostly just drank, swam, read, and relaxed, which was fine with me. I'm several shades darker and my hair is several shades lighter. I really enjoyed myself, and I feel recharged in a lot of ways. It seems like I might need it too, since everything has been happening while I was gone. My parents bought a new car (more on that later), the Leafs made the playoffs for the first time since I was in high school, and in the massive pile of emails awaiting my return, I have a number of interesting work opportunities. I also got into all of my summer classes, which should hopefully mean that I can graduate in December. And of course, I turn 25 later this week (ugh). Exciting times.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
I work on my own. There is nobody who works directly with me who does my job, or anything related to my job, ever. I only ever communicate with other staff in Leading to Reading via email, and I only see them once or twice per year. It also just got a lot more lonely. My long-time supervisor, since I was a volunteer in this program in 2003, and a lovely person all round, announced last week that she is retiring at the end of next month. I'm dreading her departure; she is so good at her job that it makes mine infinitely easier. I'll also miss her on a personal level.
On top of that, the Site Monitor with whom I share a location (on different days), and the only one with whom I communicate with regularly, informed me that she's leaving in a couple of weeks as well. As far as I know, that makes me the only Site Monitor left east of Yonge with any significant experience, and possibly the only one left period. It's not a great feeling, being the last of your kind.
Days like this make it hard to get up the next morning. Thankfully, I'm on vacation next week. I need it.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
I subscribe to the Calvin and Hobbes Daily RSS feed for two reasons. First of all, Calvin and Hobbes is pure brilliance. Second of all, it holds huge nostalgic value for me. I had all the Calvin and Hobbes collections as a child, and I read the comic every morning in the Toronto Star, until the comic ended. I was unbelievably sad when it stopped running. Even though I've read them all many times, I still enjoy seeing the comic pop up each day in my RSS feed. For me, Calvin and Hobbes holds up like no other literary work.
One of the things I love about Calvin is that he is the ideal of childhood. Mischievous, but also imaginative, trusting, curious, and strangely vulnerable, Calvin represents everything I wanted to be as a kid. Even though I started reading the comic when I was approximately the same age as Calvin is in the strip, he remains the six year old in my mind in every way. Calvin doesn't, can't, grow up. So it came as somewhat of a strange shock to see that date in today's comic. That suggests that Calvin was already 6 years old when I was born! I always knew, of course, that Watterson had been writing the comic since before I was born, but Calvin's age was never rooted in a number for me like that. It made me strangely sad to think that he might be older than me.
It'll pass, and he'll return to 6 years old in my mind, and I'll continue to love seeing those pop up in my feed each day, but it was definitely an odd feeling.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
I feel like I used to be better at this. When I was a kid, I'd move away or my friends would move away and I might be sad, briefly, but life went on. Maybe I just didn't really understand the finality of it all. Unfortunately that's no longer the case.
These days, I feel like people rarely have to leave my life, if I don't want them too. They may leave my neighbourhood, my city, or even my country, but the magic of the internet allows me to keep in contact with almost anyone, anywhere if I really want to. Unfortunately, that doesn't look like it will work here, this goodbye was probably final. Having to deal with that so rarely I think means that it's much harder to handle when it does come up.
I wish I had better words to convey how I feel, but it just really sucks.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
They just re-released the movie in theatres 3D last week, and even though I own it on blu-ray and have seen it a million times now, I jumped at the chance to capitalize on an opportunity I thought I would never again have, and experience the film on the big screen. Obviously it wasn't the same as seeing it for the first time, but it was still excellent. The special effects still held up, remarkably, and the 3D was very well done (subtle but effective). I also noticed things I had never noticed before; the effect of blowing it up on the big screen and controlling all my attention, I suppose.
Well, almost all of my attention. The one negative was the grandparents who brought their young grandchildren (likely 4 and 6) to the movie. When the kids weren't terrified, they were talking incessantly or up walking around, and the grandparents made absolutely no attempt to reign them in. Mercifully for the rest of the theatre, they left two thirds of the way through the film when the kids got scared. Still, it was unbelievably annoying. Aside from the fact that the grandparents have a responsibility to keep the kids in check as best they can, how do you not know at this point that Jurassic Park isn't a good movie for children that young? It's out for twenty years! No excuses for that.