Yes, it has been a while. This blogging thing is hard to keep up. I guess it just hasn't become a habit yet.
So I thought I would edge back gingerly onto the ice with a physical fitness update.
I have been changing the way I eat and getting regular exercise for about 5 weeks now, and can happily say that I have lost 16 pounds, which is pretty sweet. I have more tellingly lost 3 inches off my chest, 3.5 off my waist, and 1 off my hips. The change in shape is probably a more clear indicator of improvement than the scale, but the scale is easier to measure.
The most important indicator is how I feel. I feel great. I can really notice an improvement in my fitness level. I'm stronger, faster, tougher, more flexible than I was even a month ago. This is the good stuff. This is what it is all about.
The demon cola has been banished for now. I had one drink of the stuff in early April, and none since. Even with a ridiculously stressful event at work a couple of days ago, I managed to avoid temptation. I still keep a couple of cans in the refrigerator at work, and a half dozen in the basement at home, as much to be able to show that I am _not_ an addict as anything else. To know that I could have one whenever I wanted, but simply choose not to. I guess that means it is not really a demon at all - just something that isn't particularly good for me and that I no longer need.
What about all the rest of the Great Work? All that soul-searching and what-not that was supposed to result in a new, improved, kinder and gentler Me?
Well, it seems to be on hold for the most part right now. If I am working on any part of that right now, it is my tendency towards irritability and quick anger. Is it working? No. I have yet to dip deep enough into the cauldron of thoughts and emotions that is my brain to figure that one out yet. Much easier right now to simply work up a good sweat and feel good about that. The rest will come in time. Healing the body will go far in healing the mind and spirit, I think.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
This Mortal Coil - the Pet Edition
It has been a bad week for pets in Your Friendly Seeker's sphere of influence.
On Thursday last I had to have my own beloved cat put down. He had been fighting an inoperable stomach cancer for the past five months. The poor little guy has always been tougher than his rather dainty looks would suggest (he handily survived eight days in a tree with no food or water, for instance), but this was a battle he could not win. I had an appointment scheduled with the vet for Friday, where I was pretty much expecting the same result. He had been declining a bit faster than usual over the previous week, and I knew his time was coming. I was not, however, prepared for the sudden and dramatic turn for the worse he took between Wednesday and Thursday. On Thursday afternoon I came home from my walk and checked in on him, and realised that he had to go in immediately. For the previous few days he hadn't been eating or moving around much, but now he was just lying on his side, lacking even the strength to lie upright. He was now suffering, as far as I was concerned.
I rushed him to the vet and had my diagnosis confirmed. I stroked his head and forepaws as the injection was delivered, and continued to do so until he was gone. Needless to say I went through a considerable number of tissues.
I paid to have him cremated privately, and his remains will go in a little wooden box with a plaque. I owed him that much - he was a particularly awesome cat.
My wife had long refrained from bonding with him, because of my manly vow to not spend ridiculous amounts of money on medical care for a mere pet. Such a vow is easy to make when all is well and you are trying to maintain an image of logic and cool rationality. It all falls apart when your cat is stuck in a tree, or needs surgery. Suddenly price is no object (although I admit to feeling foolishly irrational as I forked over the cash for his various treatments). I always thought that when he eventually passed away it would be silly to do anything other than let him go into the mass cremation - until I faced that decision and suddenly it was worth the considerable expense to have him cremated separately and put in a little box with a plaque.
Foolish, right? Unnecessary, right? Sentimental, right?
Yeah, what's it to ya?
I'm going to miss the little guy. He was gorgeous, and knew it. He was clumsy, and didn't know it. He was affectionate to all humans (and never ever scratched or bit anyone in anger, his whole life) but a terror to other cats. He liked playing with dogs. If ever there was a piece of paper sticking out of something, or an open flap on a cardboard box, he felt compelled to tap on it repeatedly with his paw. I always referred to this as him sending messages back to the mother ship. Now that mother ship has called him home.
Friends of mine have recently had to take their young dog in for a medical procedure. It is a non-routine version of a normally routine procedure. All seems ot be well at this time, but apparently the young fellow was in some discomfort beforehand.
Other friends have recently discovered that one of their beloved cats has cancer as well, and they are going to do everything they can to prolong its life. Not an easy decision to make. I opted for palliative care for my cat rather than expensive treatments that may well extend the cat's life, but at the cost of its comfort (chemotherapy is generally a fairly miserable experience for humans, who are capable of understanding what is going on - how hard must it be for a cat, who only knows that it is sick?). But I could have conceivably made the other choice. Hard to say if a choice is wrong or right in these matters. It is never fun.
Why do we take these animals into our home and care for them? Yes, I know about companionship and such, although that fails to explain why we continue to do so even when we have human companions. I am actually not interested in all the reasons we do keep pets, but am instead talking about one specific thing:
Almost all pets have lifespans significantly shorter than ours. We get them when they are young, possibly, watch them grow to adulthood, get old, and die. Assuming we actually care for them (and people who don't really shouldn't have pets at all), we are setting ourselves up, time and again, for the grief associated with their passing. What's that all about? Why do we do that to ourselves? Is there some sort of lesson we learn about the human condition by facing the mortality of our junior partners over and over again?
It bears thinking upon.
On Thursday last I had to have my own beloved cat put down. He had been fighting an inoperable stomach cancer for the past five months. The poor little guy has always been tougher than his rather dainty looks would suggest (he handily survived eight days in a tree with no food or water, for instance), but this was a battle he could not win. I had an appointment scheduled with the vet for Friday, where I was pretty much expecting the same result. He had been declining a bit faster than usual over the previous week, and I knew his time was coming. I was not, however, prepared for the sudden and dramatic turn for the worse he took between Wednesday and Thursday. On Thursday afternoon I came home from my walk and checked in on him, and realised that he had to go in immediately. For the previous few days he hadn't been eating or moving around much, but now he was just lying on his side, lacking even the strength to lie upright. He was now suffering, as far as I was concerned.
I rushed him to the vet and had my diagnosis confirmed. I stroked his head and forepaws as the injection was delivered, and continued to do so until he was gone. Needless to say I went through a considerable number of tissues.
I paid to have him cremated privately, and his remains will go in a little wooden box with a plaque. I owed him that much - he was a particularly awesome cat.
My wife had long refrained from bonding with him, because of my manly vow to not spend ridiculous amounts of money on medical care for a mere pet. Such a vow is easy to make when all is well and you are trying to maintain an image of logic and cool rationality. It all falls apart when your cat is stuck in a tree, or needs surgery. Suddenly price is no object (although I admit to feeling foolishly irrational as I forked over the cash for his various treatments). I always thought that when he eventually passed away it would be silly to do anything other than let him go into the mass cremation - until I faced that decision and suddenly it was worth the considerable expense to have him cremated separately and put in a little box with a plaque.
Foolish, right? Unnecessary, right? Sentimental, right?
Yeah, what's it to ya?
I'm going to miss the little guy. He was gorgeous, and knew it. He was clumsy, and didn't know it. He was affectionate to all humans (and never ever scratched or bit anyone in anger, his whole life) but a terror to other cats. He liked playing with dogs. If ever there was a piece of paper sticking out of something, or an open flap on a cardboard box, he felt compelled to tap on it repeatedly with his paw. I always referred to this as him sending messages back to the mother ship. Now that mother ship has called him home.
Friends of mine have recently had to take their young dog in for a medical procedure. It is a non-routine version of a normally routine procedure. All seems ot be well at this time, but apparently the young fellow was in some discomfort beforehand.
Other friends have recently discovered that one of their beloved cats has cancer as well, and they are going to do everything they can to prolong its life. Not an easy decision to make. I opted for palliative care for my cat rather than expensive treatments that may well extend the cat's life, but at the cost of its comfort (chemotherapy is generally a fairly miserable experience for humans, who are capable of understanding what is going on - how hard must it be for a cat, who only knows that it is sick?). But I could have conceivably made the other choice. Hard to say if a choice is wrong or right in these matters. It is never fun.
Why do we take these animals into our home and care for them? Yes, I know about companionship and such, although that fails to explain why we continue to do so even when we have human companions. I am actually not interested in all the reasons we do keep pets, but am instead talking about one specific thing:
Almost all pets have lifespans significantly shorter than ours. We get them when they are young, possibly, watch them grow to adulthood, get old, and die. Assuming we actually care for them (and people who don't really shouldn't have pets at all), we are setting ourselves up, time and again, for the grief associated with their passing. What's that all about? Why do we do that to ourselves? Is there some sort of lesson we learn about the human condition by facing the mortality of our junior partners over and over again?
It bears thinking upon.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Insufficient Postage
Hello, if anyone is out there (okay, I know for sure that one person at least checks in periodically).
Yes, my personal blogscape has been barren for the last few days. There is a reason, however.
I have begun my journey by concentrating on my body. This involves a modification of my diet and activity level. Paying attention to one's food intake (I am writing down everything I eat in order to better understand my eating patterns, habits and choices) takes a fair amount of attention. Changing my activity level takes more. Between the two, I have not had a lot of time free for introspection. Hence, a dearth of postage here. However, I shall take a moment to describe my current efforts.
The main modification to my diet has been the simple elimination of my single biggest food vice - soda. I stopped drinking the stuff on the 2nd of April. I had a stumble after a particularly stressful day last week, but even then I realised that I was just stress/comfort eating and poured the last half out. Or, to be more accurate, I handed it to my wife, who wishes to be called Mrs. Cord (she objected to the name I wanted to give her, which is Fatima), to pour out. An act of will either way.
I was surprised to discover that, after eliminating cola and other pure junk foods (chips, chocolate bars etc), I don't actually eat all that much. And, when being mindful of what I am eating, I can usually control my impulse to consume mass quantities.
The rest is conscious selection of healthier foods. Not as hard as it sounds at first. Hey, I'll make that sandwich with roast beef instead of bacon. I don't need to slather that with mayo. I'll eat more vegetables. Fruit makes a great snack. All obvious, but all useful, and they all add up.
I average about 2200 calories a day now, which is pretty much on target for a healthy level of weight loss. Writing it all down is incredibly useful for looking back and noticing "wow, did I really eat nothing but meat and bread that day?".
The exercise part of my lifestyle change is easier and harder at the same time. Easier because it is a lot more fun than cutting out yummy-but-evil junk food. Easier because I get a real emotional and physical lift from working out. Harder because it is difficult to make time to work out when I have the rest of life intruding on me and making demands. For instance, over the past week (and well into this week), Mrs. Cord has been painting out daughter's room. Because of this, she is highly stressed and very tired all the time. Accordingly I have to take over all the various tasks that she once performed - her share of the cooking, cleaning, child-rearing and pet maintenance. This makes it hard to reserve time to exercise. Since I am the type that always puts the needs of my family above my own, I sacrifice my own time and needs to serve them. Unfortunately, this has been making me petulant and generally whiny. However, I do manage to get some form of activity every day, even if I have to wait until my family is asleep. The bad part of that is, of course, that I am sacrificing sleep to do it.
I suspect that in time I will work out a system where I get to do what I need to do while still meeting my family's needs. It's a learning process.
All this activity is bearing fruit. I did manage to lose 3 pounds in my first week of lifestyle change.
Yes, my personal blogscape has been barren for the last few days. There is a reason, however.
I have begun my journey by concentrating on my body. This involves a modification of my diet and activity level. Paying attention to one's food intake (I am writing down everything I eat in order to better understand my eating patterns, habits and choices) takes a fair amount of attention. Changing my activity level takes more. Between the two, I have not had a lot of time free for introspection. Hence, a dearth of postage here. However, I shall take a moment to describe my current efforts.
The main modification to my diet has been the simple elimination of my single biggest food vice - soda. I stopped drinking the stuff on the 2nd of April. I had a stumble after a particularly stressful day last week, but even then I realised that I was just stress/comfort eating and poured the last half out. Or, to be more accurate, I handed it to my wife, who wishes to be called Mrs. Cord (she objected to the name I wanted to give her, which is Fatima), to pour out. An act of will either way.
I was surprised to discover that, after eliminating cola and other pure junk foods (chips, chocolate bars etc), I don't actually eat all that much. And, when being mindful of what I am eating, I can usually control my impulse to consume mass quantities.
The rest is conscious selection of healthier foods. Not as hard as it sounds at first. Hey, I'll make that sandwich with roast beef instead of bacon. I don't need to slather that with mayo. I'll eat more vegetables. Fruit makes a great snack. All obvious, but all useful, and they all add up.
I average about 2200 calories a day now, which is pretty much on target for a healthy level of weight loss. Writing it all down is incredibly useful for looking back and noticing "wow, did I really eat nothing but meat and bread that day?".
The exercise part of my lifestyle change is easier and harder at the same time. Easier because it is a lot more fun than cutting out yummy-but-evil junk food. Easier because I get a real emotional and physical lift from working out. Harder because it is difficult to make time to work out when I have the rest of life intruding on me and making demands. For instance, over the past week (and well into this week), Mrs. Cord has been painting out daughter's room. Because of this, she is highly stressed and very tired all the time. Accordingly I have to take over all the various tasks that she once performed - her share of the cooking, cleaning, child-rearing and pet maintenance. This makes it hard to reserve time to exercise. Since I am the type that always puts the needs of my family above my own, I sacrifice my own time and needs to serve them. Unfortunately, this has been making me petulant and generally whiny. However, I do manage to get some form of activity every day, even if I have to wait until my family is asleep. The bad part of that is, of course, that I am sacrificing sleep to do it.
I suspect that in time I will work out a system where I get to do what I need to do while still meeting my family's needs. It's a learning process.
All this activity is bearing fruit. I did manage to lose 3 pounds in my first week of lifestyle change.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Thing in the Cellar 2: Electric Boogaloo (aka Plumber 1, Homeowner 0)
Well, I was completely unable to get the damaged drain valve off. Stuck so hard that my channel-lock pliers (only tool I had that would fit) just chewed up the plastic.
Deciding that hot water trumps pride, I called in the pros. Valve replaced (with a much much better kind of valve), burnt elements replaced, and off we go.
Sometimes, you just have to swallow your pride and throw some money at the problem.
I'm going to go crawl under a rock now.
Deciding that hot water trumps pride, I called in the pros. Valve replaced (with a much much better kind of valve), burnt elements replaced, and off we go.
Sometimes, you just have to swallow your pride and throw some money at the problem.
I'm going to go crawl under a rock now.
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Thing in the Cellar: Hot Water Tank 1, Human 0
The hot water tank in our house has been acting up, so Cord the Unwary decided to strap on his six-guns, or at least a screwdriver and a spanner, and check it out.
What it has been doing is spurting a bit of air when you turn on the hot tap, and it runs out of hot water fast. Really fast. Only enough to fill the tub a couple of inches. I'm not much of a plumber, but I'm more of a plumber than I am an electrician (I'm more comfortable working with pipes than wires, mainly because water is less mysterious and evil than electricity is. I'm not worried about getting killed when I take a spanner to a pipe, but am pretty sure that that is what will happen whenever I have to look at anything electrical), so down to the lair of the beast go I.
Uneducated reasoning suggests to me that either the tank is loaded with sediment (since we are on a well here in the Hinterlands that would hardly be surprising), or one of the elements is out. The sediment seems easier (and non-electrical) so that seemed the place to start.
Okay, so, time to drain the tank.
Breaker off? Check.
Cold water inlet off? Check.
Drain valve open? Check.
Hmm, not much water is coming out. Wait!
Hot water tap open somewhere to prevent a vaccuum? Check.
Okay, working better now, but flow still very slow, leading credence to my sediment idea. Time to jam a screwdriver in there and try to loosen the mass. Sediment may even be packed so high that it is covering the lower element, which would also help explain the lack of hot water.
Jamming screwdriver in. Flow is better now. Good. Water now red with iron oxides (I assume so, anyway - pretty sure it isn't Red Tide in there). Flakes of minerals coming out. Goood.
Wait a minute. Wasn't I supposed to _remove_ the drain valve before jamming the screwdriver in there?
Oh, crap.
The valve will no longer close. No surprise there. Now I have to wait until the tank slowly drains completely. I could remove the valve completely but then warm dirty water will get all over my basement floor, getting stuff wet. Don't want that (I'm not a tidy person in any way, but I hate it when I get dirty, soggy or otherwise contaminated. That also goes for all the stuff, mostly cardboard boxes full of leather, that is sitting on my basement floor (not tidy, remember?).
Therefore I shall have to wait until the tank slowly drains before pulling the valve. All well and good, as dinner beckons, but this ends up meaning that Canadian Tire is closed before I can even think about getting that valve out. Tomorrow, then, you smug, sediment-filled bastard.
Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of The Thing in the Cellar!
What it has been doing is spurting a bit of air when you turn on the hot tap, and it runs out of hot water fast. Really fast. Only enough to fill the tub a couple of inches. I'm not much of a plumber, but I'm more of a plumber than I am an electrician (I'm more comfortable working with pipes than wires, mainly because water is less mysterious and evil than electricity is. I'm not worried about getting killed when I take a spanner to a pipe, but am pretty sure that that is what will happen whenever I have to look at anything electrical), so down to the lair of the beast go I.
Uneducated reasoning suggests to me that either the tank is loaded with sediment (since we are on a well here in the Hinterlands that would hardly be surprising), or one of the elements is out. The sediment seems easier (and non-electrical) so that seemed the place to start.
Okay, so, time to drain the tank.
Breaker off? Check.
Cold water inlet off? Check.
Drain valve open? Check.
Hmm, not much water is coming out. Wait!
Hot water tap open somewhere to prevent a vaccuum? Check.
Okay, working better now, but flow still very slow, leading credence to my sediment idea. Time to jam a screwdriver in there and try to loosen the mass. Sediment may even be packed so high that it is covering the lower element, which would also help explain the lack of hot water.
Jamming screwdriver in. Flow is better now. Good. Water now red with iron oxides (I assume so, anyway - pretty sure it isn't Red Tide in there). Flakes of minerals coming out. Goood.
Wait a minute. Wasn't I supposed to _remove_ the drain valve before jamming the screwdriver in there?
Oh, crap.
The valve will no longer close. No surprise there. Now I have to wait until the tank slowly drains completely. I could remove the valve completely but then warm dirty water will get all over my basement floor, getting stuff wet. Don't want that (I'm not a tidy person in any way, but I hate it when I get dirty, soggy or otherwise contaminated. That also goes for all the stuff, mostly cardboard boxes full of leather, that is sitting on my basement floor (not tidy, remember?).
Therefore I shall have to wait until the tank slowly drains before pulling the valve. All well and good, as dinner beckons, but this ends up meaning that Canadian Tire is closed before I can even think about getting that valve out. Tomorrow, then, you smug, sediment-filled bastard.
Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of The Thing in the Cellar!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Prolegomenon
Greetings, Gentle Readers.
Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then we'll begin.
In my last post, I told you about the decision to undergo this process. Today I will explain why it is necessary.
I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone who knew me that I am not a very happy person. There is a lot about myself and my life that I do not like very much. There are a lot of things that can be improved or changed. There is also stuff that is good, and I want to keep the good while pruning the bad. Cut back the weakness, reinforce what is strong. However, it is much easier to focus on the bad, so let's do that, shall we?
I am 42 years old (nothing particularly wrong with that, except inasmuch as it may make some parts of the process more difficult, but then it may well make other parts easier). I am in extremely poor physical condition, being 5'11" tall and weighing 311 lbs. I can't run 50 yards without being winded, or climb a flight of stairs without breathing heavily. I love to swim, but can't because I don't want to take my shirt off in public. Most other activities I would like to take part in, like running around outside playing with my daughter, I cannot do because my body can't hack it. In short, I be fat. Morbidly obese, I believe the term is.
I have a job I love working for a company I despise, who is the sole employer in the field. Said company is taking advantage of the current economy and cutting staff. While I am not currently affected, this scares the bejesus out of me. I currently lack the skills and education to get a job in another field that will pay me anything close to what I make now. Warning, kids - don't over-specialise.
When I look at my inventory of character traits I see much that I do not like. I've got good helpings of all the major sins, but particularly and especially envy. Other prominent traits are being quick to anger and not being nearly as sympathetic as I would like. I notice those last two traits most notably when dealing with my wife and my daughter, who are both wonderful and really do not deserve my irritability and judgementalness.
I have plenty of other character flaws but to list them all right now would swell this post to Brobdingnagian proportions. There will be plenty of time for that in future posts.
Spiritual dissatisfaction is difficult to quantify or even identify with any clarity. All I can say is that I find my life lacking somehow. It is like there is a hole in my life, but one that I cannot pinpoint and locate. How does one identify what's missing in one's soul? You can't take it out and look at it, at least not easily. Present - soul! Inspection - soul! It just doesn't work that way. This is certainly the most nebulous aspect of my personal quest, one that is going to take a considerable amount of - ahem - soul searching.
This is all starting to sound a little morbid, so let me make this clear. It is not my intention to wallow in misery and flagellate myself for the sake of exhibitionism. My intent is to take a good look at myself, with the goal of self-improvement. I don't want to whine about how much of a pathetic loser I am (although that will surely happen periodically); instead I want to find the good within me and polish it up a bit, find the bad and either work on fixing it or throw it out, rebuild myself - better, stronger, faster. That is my eventual goal.
Since all that would be profoundly boring to obsess over to exclusion of all else, this space will also be a soapbox for me to write about whatever else happens to interest me, perhaps in the hope that others may find it amusing, interesting or even useful.
And, who knows? Maybe you will find something useful in my self-indulgent quest, as well.
Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then we'll begin.
In my last post, I told you about the decision to undergo this process. Today I will explain why it is necessary.
I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone who knew me that I am not a very happy person. There is a lot about myself and my life that I do not like very much. There are a lot of things that can be improved or changed. There is also stuff that is good, and I want to keep the good while pruning the bad. Cut back the weakness, reinforce what is strong. However, it is much easier to focus on the bad, so let's do that, shall we?
I am 42 years old (nothing particularly wrong with that, except inasmuch as it may make some parts of the process more difficult, but then it may well make other parts easier). I am in extremely poor physical condition, being 5'11" tall and weighing 311 lbs. I can't run 50 yards without being winded, or climb a flight of stairs without breathing heavily. I love to swim, but can't because I don't want to take my shirt off in public. Most other activities I would like to take part in, like running around outside playing with my daughter, I cannot do because my body can't hack it. In short, I be fat. Morbidly obese, I believe the term is.
I have a job I love working for a company I despise, who is the sole employer in the field. Said company is taking advantage of the current economy and cutting staff. While I am not currently affected, this scares the bejesus out of me. I currently lack the skills and education to get a job in another field that will pay me anything close to what I make now. Warning, kids - don't over-specialise.
When I look at my inventory of character traits I see much that I do not like. I've got good helpings of all the major sins, but particularly and especially envy. Other prominent traits are being quick to anger and not being nearly as sympathetic as I would like. I notice those last two traits most notably when dealing with my wife and my daughter, who are both wonderful and really do not deserve my irritability and judgementalness.
I have plenty of other character flaws but to list them all right now would swell this post to Brobdingnagian proportions. There will be plenty of time for that in future posts.
Spiritual dissatisfaction is difficult to quantify or even identify with any clarity. All I can say is that I find my life lacking somehow. It is like there is a hole in my life, but one that I cannot pinpoint and locate. How does one identify what's missing in one's soul? You can't take it out and look at it, at least not easily. Present - soul! Inspection - soul! It just doesn't work that way. This is certainly the most nebulous aspect of my personal quest, one that is going to take a considerable amount of - ahem - soul searching.
This is all starting to sound a little morbid, so let me make this clear. It is not my intention to wallow in misery and flagellate myself for the sake of exhibitionism. My intent is to take a good look at myself, with the goal of self-improvement. I don't want to whine about how much of a pathetic loser I am (although that will surely happen periodically); instead I want to find the good within me and polish it up a bit, find the bad and either work on fixing it or throw it out, rebuild myself - better, stronger, faster. That is my eventual goal.
Since all that would be profoundly boring to obsess over to exclusion of all else, this space will also be a soapbox for me to write about whatever else happens to interest me, perhaps in the hope that others may find it amusing, interesting or even useful.
And, who knows? Maybe you will find something useful in my self-indulgent quest, as well.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
It's the first day of Spring...
That's still a big scary ice sheet, but I see a tiny path that has been broken ahead. let's see where it goes.
And while it may not be the official first day of Spring, Spring is not something that is dictated by calendars, but instead follows the cycles of sun, weather, blah blah, circle of life, blah blah. Suffice to say that it is the first day of Spring for me. Not only is it the first day that I have nice weather here in the Hinterland, but I also feel that my character armour is beginning to crack a little, and something may hatch out of there. That's a scary thought.
Why am I doing this weblog? In all honesty, I am still not entirely sure.
Unlike many of the folk who do these things, I am not an aspiring artist of any kind. I'm not a novelist or a poet. I don't paint, sculpt, draw, play an instrument, sing (outside of my car or shower), or have any other need to unleash my pent-up creativity - because I don't have any.
Those looking for flowery prose and deep emotional resonance had best go elsewhere.
Okay, that's why I'm _not_ writing this, or rather, that is _not_ the reason that I _am_ writing this. So what is? Certainly I had never thought about doing something like this before now.
Let me tell you a story... (Ah-ha! you say, he _is_ a novelist! Relax, it ain't that kind of story.)
It was a seemingly unremarkable journey, a trip with my wife and daughter to Vancouver for a week away from the Hinterlands, where it was still winter. Our previous foray south, for Christmas, was nasty, brutish and short due to some horrific bug all three of us had contracted. This time, we were going to stay longer, do some visiting with friends and family, shop a little , walk a little, eat some decent sushi - the usual. Good times were had, but it was a thoroughly normal and standard getaway. Except that for some reason, I did not come back the same person I was when I left.
It was almost as if I had contracted some sort of germ (a germ of an idea, perhaps?), and it was incubating in me in the warmer southern climate. Possibly (and this was a question my wife asked) it was visiting a good friend, one who has been a catalyst for my growth in the past. I honestly don't know. What I do know, is that ideas were floating around in my tiny mind. Transformative ideas. Within a few days of returning home, I had decided to embark upon a journey of thorough self-examination and self-overhaul. Look long and hard at myself, inside and out, take inventory, throw out the trash, try to change what needs changing, and maybe even find some stuff worth keeping.
That's what this is all about. I'm inviting anyone who wants to to come along with me as I make this journey of self-transformation. I suspect it is going to be a dark and bumpy ride.
Why am I making it public? I cannot say for certain. All I know is that when I made the decision to undergo this process, I also strongly felt the need to document it, and to do so publicly. It may be that there is a certain freedom and honesty involved in laying oneself open to the scrutiny of strangers, and perhaps honesty to self begins with honesty towards others. What's the point in lying to people who don't even know you? Anonymity provides a certain courage.
As for why I am going through this self-examination in the first place, that will have to wait for the next post.
And while it may not be the official first day of Spring, Spring is not something that is dictated by calendars, but instead follows the cycles of sun, weather, blah blah, circle of life, blah blah. Suffice to say that it is the first day of Spring for me. Not only is it the first day that I have nice weather here in the Hinterland, but I also feel that my character armour is beginning to crack a little, and something may hatch out of there. That's a scary thought.
Why am I doing this weblog? In all honesty, I am still not entirely sure.
Unlike many of the folk who do these things, I am not an aspiring artist of any kind. I'm not a novelist or a poet. I don't paint, sculpt, draw, play an instrument, sing (outside of my car or shower), or have any other need to unleash my pent-up creativity - because I don't have any.
Those looking for flowery prose and deep emotional resonance had best go elsewhere.
Okay, that's why I'm _not_ writing this, or rather, that is _not_ the reason that I _am_ writing this. So what is? Certainly I had never thought about doing something like this before now.
Let me tell you a story... (Ah-ha! you say, he _is_ a novelist! Relax, it ain't that kind of story.)
It was a seemingly unremarkable journey, a trip with my wife and daughter to Vancouver for a week away from the Hinterlands, where it was still winter. Our previous foray south, for Christmas, was nasty, brutish and short due to some horrific bug all three of us had contracted. This time, we were going to stay longer, do some visiting with friends and family, shop a little , walk a little, eat some decent sushi - the usual. Good times were had, but it was a thoroughly normal and standard getaway. Except that for some reason, I did not come back the same person I was when I left.
It was almost as if I had contracted some sort of germ (a germ of an idea, perhaps?), and it was incubating in me in the warmer southern climate. Possibly (and this was a question my wife asked) it was visiting a good friend, one who has been a catalyst for my growth in the past. I honestly don't know. What I do know, is that ideas were floating around in my tiny mind. Transformative ideas. Within a few days of returning home, I had decided to embark upon a journey of thorough self-examination and self-overhaul. Look long and hard at myself, inside and out, take inventory, throw out the trash, try to change what needs changing, and maybe even find some stuff worth keeping.
That's what this is all about. I'm inviting anyone who wants to to come along with me as I make this journey of self-transformation. I suspect it is going to be a dark and bumpy ride.
Why am I making it public? I cannot say for certain. All I know is that when I made the decision to undergo this process, I also strongly felt the need to document it, and to do so publicly. It may be that there is a certain freedom and honesty involved in laying oneself open to the scrutiny of strangers, and perhaps honesty to self begins with honesty towards others. What's the point in lying to people who don't even know you? Anonymity provides a certain courage.
As for why I am going through this self-examination in the first place, that will have to wait for the next post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)