Welcoming Spring, Touring the Man Show

Acupuncture: the back of my leg's
 impression of being a porcupine.

It's Saturday. . .officially. I finally woke up in the morning without my body greeting me with as much severe inflammation, cramping, and pain. Yesterday's session of treatments were a bit diminished in intensity than last time, that is, I felt less inclined to pass out when my leg muscles were being shifted, stretched, and kneaded. Desperation to expedite the healing process has made me more open to testing alternative forms of medicine. I have to make it a point not to favour the stricken leg anymore, and avoid limping so much. Sure, it's painful; but the extra use of the cane and limping was causing other problems. Deep breathing, and counting out my pace is helping. I had enough tolerance for the discomfort to tidy up inside a bit, and to use a little time to set up my deck furniture and clear the dust and debris that the six-month winter blew in and deposited on my balcony. I wanted to have it clean enough to enjoy some fresh air and a different vista for the evening; to hopefully watch last of this snow all melt away. I sit out here now, enjoying some whisky as I write this account. My peace is being ruined though by some dummies stunting with their vehicles (big half-ton trucks) south of here. I'll get to mentioning more about those kinds of morons in a minute.


There was desperation to do anything outside of the home today, so desperate in fact that I actually made an effort to circulate socially and I took a peek around the venue that was closest to me: The 2013 MAN SHOW. I don't honestly know why I opted to tour this event. It's enough to know that I am a man, with mind/body format compatibility, and I don't really need to do much in terms of shopping around, or finding other ways to waste money and time, to validate that fact. I'm not so insecure with myself that I need to latch onto and depend on some sort of power and status symbols to delude myself to thinking that those things will somehow magically make me more manly. When there is a expo in town with the advertising in big bold letters saying MAN SHOW, I automatically presume that there will be nothing much there for actual personal betterment for me as a man. What my preconception of a Man Show is, in my mind, is an expo of marketing stuff(s) that:

1. is just a tacky looking piece of shit that's built bigger than it needs to be, and just wastes space. 
2. is made to go faster, or have more power output than most people reasonably know how to control.
3. are mechanical and electrical things that exceed certain thresholds of making an obnoxious amount of noise, and using a wasteful amount of fuel/energy to power.
4. is a ridiculous attempt of automation of something to make it "time saving", but in reality is a lot less time/energy efficient or precise than managing the same work with more conventional or manual tools and methods.
5. are leisure crafts and vehicles that you pay thousands of dollars for, to use only a few days of the year.
6. are more technically enhanced ways of isolating yourself and vegetating.
7. if it's a food product, has the right combinations of deep fried/char-broiled protein, grease/trans-fats, salt/spice, which along with beer, induces the maximum capacity for raucous bouts of belching and farting.

Well look here. . . it's a perfect example of a
Skinny-whitetrash-mobile, or a.k.a. "the dumb-fuck truck"
 because that's mostly who you'll find driving them.
This truck pretty much represents the first five
 points I mentioned earlier**. I could also simply call it
"the over-compensator", but then I'd be using concepts these
poor rednecks wouldn't understand, or know how to spell.
Nothing screams out insecurity of one's manhood more than
when I see the types of  jerks who drive these stupid things
around, but yet don't have a job that justifies (or can pay for)
such a massive fuel-wasting piece of steel.

 

However, during this past while of lingering around home for so long, stricken with pain, and seeing how irritable and grouchy I was getting, it was undeniable that there evidently was something missing from around here that could have gave me better comfort in my place. Anyway, I was left to wonder if there were actually any other material things that this event would have had on display that could have brought me contentment. I got curious about it. So, I went just to explore it anyway, and perhaps discover what those things might be.


As I suspected, the event was largely a waste of my time, I only threw my name in a couple of cash prize draws; everything else that was up for grabs in a raffle was too grossly impractical for a condo dweller. There, of course, was a multitude of things stuffed with an over-powered engine, extreme sports gear, golfing supplies, and the ubiquitous presence of things that comprise the ideal "man cave"*. There was also, however, stuff that I wouldn't define as manly at all. Some of the pictures illustrate the point better than my words could. Like this photo of the pink golf cart . . . at THE MAN SHOW?!!!. . . I must have missed some circulated memo about how there's nothing that makes a greater statement that you're a studly pillar of pure testosterone than cruising around in a pink golf cart. I was looking around for the circus clown who owned this thing. Other stuff that was there, that one wouldn't exactly think of as manly, were spa treatment compounds, like Dead Sea Salt hand exfoliant. I also found all kinds of other crazy instances of strange juxtapositions. Here you are, surrounded by these super turbo-charged, jacked up, drive-through-the-swamp-and-muskeg, mega-4x4 half ton trucks, meant to do hard-ass labour, and withstand the worse physical punishment and conditions that can be thrown at a vehicle. . . and what are they selling for them right next to them as accessories, at the MAN SHOW? . . . air freshener scents!

That alone is a sure hint that the buyers don't really want these trucks for doing the actual dirty heavy work for which they were designed. If you have a super-charged half-ton truck, yet don't use it for real work, have all the chrome always polished up, smelling like an ocean breeze or pina colada, and looking like you are going to take friggin' Cinderella to the ball, it's pretty blunt and apparent that you are using it as a status symbol for a delusional sense of power. The only practical reason to have an air freshener handy for the kind of stupid loser bastards who I see driving these kinds of trucks are to hide the smell of booze and weed after they get pulled over.

Another unique thing there was a personal hovercraft. It has to be fully inflated when you want to have some real fun with it, the action happens underneath a skirt, there is a powerful thrust involved; how could a phallic symbol like this not be at the MAN SHOW? Points #2 through #5 covered by this thing. I must confess though that I'd like to try one of these things out at least once to see how it handles.

*- A stupid piece and insulting bit of terminology - since my dwelling's lone human occupant is a male, it by default makes it a "man cave", and I endeavour to be at least a little more sophisticated and worldly than an average troglodyte.

**- The other indicator of how much a vehicle is ridiculously and impractically designed, and made strictly for the senses, is the amount of female models hired to hang around the thing in a showcase.









Pasta, Marshmallows, and an Egg: The Tools for Collaboration

I like attending the workshops at the union office. I find them very enlightening. Attending the one today was a very welcome thing, to get me away from vegetating too long inside my place. It ended up being a fun day. The activity that was most appealing to me in this session was an exercise involving collaboration with a team. Our task was to build a tower with dried spaghetti and marshmallows, as high as we could, which could support a single raw egg on top of it, within a time limit of twenty minutes.

I liked it because not only it was an opportunity to play around and experiment with my limited knowledge of architecture and engineering, but because I got to see how my leadership style works, and how I operate in a team setting. I prefer spending much of my time living and working independently; so I admit and acknowledge that I'm a little oblivious about my personal style of collaborative problem solving and involvement in teamwork.

When it came to task, I introduced the idea of a geodesic design to the group and showed them what a tetrahedral structure looks like, and how to take these small units and build onto them in a patterned frequency for a supportive structure. The idea was totally foreign to these guys, but they caught on quickly after I gave a demonstration. Another guy gave some input as to how reinforce the base's struts, the two women of our four member group were reacting a little frantically as we neared the end, just about knocking it down, but they created an innovative design for the "egg cradle". The structure got somewhat sloppier as it got higher, as we were rushed to finish before time was up, but we still won the challenge, not only in height, but I would dare say we also won in terms of aesthetic appeal compared to the others at the 00:00 mark.

There was more than one dimension in which this was enjoyable. It was just working with a good team itself. My current reluctance to work or play in teams is a result of witnessing/being involved in too many bad teams with in the past. As minor as this recent accomplishment was, I realized that this has been the first time in a long time that I've been able to have a group of more than two people work with me* on a project without naysaying, negativity, bickering, impudence, big egos, sore losers, nagging, or just the outright ignoring and rejecting of any (or my) ideas without reason when sharing constructive input** in a brainstorming session. It showed me how important an environment of respect, focus, trust, honesty, encouragement, support, and solidarity is to have when I do join teams, and just how much those elements have been lacking in the dynamics of most team settings I was stuck in. It's a tall order to ask for. It gave me insight as to why I so often choose to work alone and independently.

TED lecturer, Tom Wujec, has a better explanation of the potential team building exercise with similar such materials and objectives than what I can present. I embedded a link for a video for better elaboration. I wish our prize was $10,000 worth of software.

Tom Wujec on Tower and Team Building.

 

If you should be so curious and adventurous as to try out what we did, here is the challenge:

 

Materials

• 900g dried spaghetti
• 500g bag of large marshmallows (use the fruit flavoured ones if you want to be colourful)
• 1 raw egg

Object: As stated above, build a tower as high as you can with the pasta and marshmallows, that's strong enough to support the weight of a raw egg placed on top of it. Good Luck! Do your best!

 

Here is the link to the official site for the rules of the real Marshmallow Challenge

*- Just to clarify: I work best one on one with people, like me and tolerate being around one or two other co-workers. Larger teams are my challenge. 
**- To rub salt in the wounds, it especially pisses me off when my theory was right to begin with; then some other bozo in the group comes around to opting what I originally suggested, and then tries to claim credit for it when it does works out. I make it a point to weed such people out of my life, and stop working with such bottom-feeding parasites. It has happened often enough that I'm still unwilling to share thoughts in a group setting.

Physio Stuff

Like dealing with the repercussions of this wretched winter, trying to cope with these injuries and their consequences with constantly expressing bitter complaint does nothing productive, nor is it conducive, to improving the matter. So, after this entry, I'm going to put some effort into toning all that down. Venting these frustrations only reflects my lack of patience. I just want desperately to move on forward with something more progressive, life-affirming, and positive. I should be concentrating on turning this downtime into something I could use for my advantage.

I can honestly say that the massage treatment yesterday was one of the most excruciating experiences I ever had in my life. And unfortunately, it isn't the only one I'll have to have. It basically involves getting old muscle and scar tissues teased and ripped apart, so stuff can heal back together normally again. In essence, it re-stationed me back to square one, as it rendered me cramped up and limping again, so there is no chance in resuming training this week. However, in it was the bitter lesson of how poorly I've been taking care of myself, in that I'm not getting adequate rest. After that torment, it made me even more determined to stop further allowing my body to become a busted up piece of junk.

Today, after some recommended physiotherapy exercises, I'm going to try to throw my mind into learning some of the long list of techy stuff that I've been curious about, within those moments when I'm not too distracted by pain.

Here is a video of one of the things I am to do. I figured that I'd share it, as it might be beneficial for my other friends who are fellow runners, and cohorts who I know are on their feet all day.

Five Questions, Five Answers: Recovery Process

Q1. You are weaning yourself off pain meds, but are still relegated to sit still. As your brain fog clears, what do you plan to do with your time today?

A1. I have a commitment to do the following things:

• get therapeutic massage treatment (trying my best not to scream like a wounded animal when my injured bits worked over)
• exchange materials at the library after appointment
• attend to correspondence from SGI
• resume research and hunting for vehicles online
• rebuilding a new training schedule (dependant upon medical consults)
• make appointment to get bike tuned up*
• provisionally, figure out bus schedules for work and downtown*

Q2. What were the wildest pain-killer induced hallucination experiences you had?

A2. Anything to do with watching and tracking movement. For example, using the elevator in my building. Instead of watching the elevator move up and down, it felt like as I watched the elevator lower, that the elevator stood still, and the whole rest of the building was moving up and down. At times, Ella scurrying across the floor looked like a weird black blur. It probably makes matters worse with me experimenting with new contact lens and reading glasses.

Q3. What are/were you reading/watching on TV for entertainment?

A3. Continuing to read non-fiction: At Home, by Bill Bryson. Magazines: Wired, Popular Science, Make, Popular Mechanics, Consumer Reports, PC World. I'm following Vikings from the History Channel, and catching up on Hannibal on television. The favourite movies were Django Unchained, Men in Black III. I have been tuning into a lot of the TEDx video lectures, and some thought provoking documents as well. To tame my anger, I did my best to avoid the endless news loops about that idiot Boston bombing suspect, and the Al Qaida linked terrorist bastards they arrested in Toronto and Montreal.   

Q4. What has been the most useful assistance you've had during this process?

A4. The chiropractic work, and a five meter length of HDMI cable connecting my laptop and TV in my living room.

Q5. What are the ones you wish you had?

A5. Someone to do my laundry, take out garbage, and do all the rest of my spring cleaning for me. Having someone around to take the dog for long walks would have been useful as well.

*- The tire wear is quite bad, and I'm sensing imminent strut/suspension failure; thus it will be going to the wrecking yard sooner than I anticipated. So, I'm planning alternate transportation in the event I don't find a replacement very soon.

Viva La Home

I did this very deliberately and purposely. I am using one of those cushioned laptop desks, which is propped up on top of my legs, that are raised and perched on an ottoman, while I'm seated in the bunny chair*, which I'm realizing I rarely ever use. I only have one ass, and it regularly prefers the chesterfield for comfort, but my habitual way of slopping my body into it isn't doing much good for a supportive healing posture right now, nor is it doing a lot to settle down my soreness and aching. This new spot is sort of a therapy: with this position, and the computer on my legs; it's a method of effectively pinning myself down so to force to me to stop walking/squirming around, and to just sit still, for at least an hour at a time. The chair is really on the smaller side as far as armchairs go, and it doesn't recline much, so it keeps me seated reasonably upright and in a more relatively confined, restrictive position without sacrificing too much comfort and support. Otherwise, I've either been too restless, or too distracted by pain, to simply use the moments to just meditate. Who in the hell can, or wants to, focus on the here and now if all that's there is real bodily discomfort? Thus, I'm not being very Zen. My mind is straying into realms of what I would, should, must, ought to, want to, need to, or have to, be doing instead of accepting the present moment. A time like this has been a harsh glimpse into how I'd be (un)able to cope if, God forbid, I ever had to go on long-term disability that impairs senses or mobility, or I had to manage through a similar such retirement.

I wrote an entry a while ago about having simple comforts and entertainment at home, titled The Four Square Meter Kingdom, I just reviewed it. Comparing my attitude back then with my sense of suffering and inconvenience now, is like touring two different worlds. Sure, having a chance to seek solace at home during a most brutal winter season was a welcome thought**, but it's "warmer" now, and it is so counter-intuitive for me to just sit around. The thing I'm realizing, sitting in a chair that I haven't actually used in months, is just how alienated I have become in trying to rest and relax within my own walls, and I'm questioning now about exactly how much time I actually do use to consciously live in my own home. Most of my workdays are 10-11 hours long, and then there's the time used commuting, shopping, running/fitness, walking the dog, and attending other appointments (mostly medical now): all outside of home. Days off, or free weekends, are just catch up time for other projects. My remaining waking hours used in here are used mostly being busy in the utility spaces: my kitchen and office, trying to research/plan/economize on things, then there is the time used for cleaning and maintenance, not relaxing or interesting stuff. The actual typical leisure time I have left is two to three hours for generally reading/writing, Internet, or TV between work and sleep. So, I now wonder, is this really living? Is this really as thrilling and adventurous as I've been allowing life to get? It's totally weird to be finding myself off on a stretch of days like this with more empty hours. As time goes on, I'm feeling more and more estranged from anything that involves engaging in social recreation***. I reflect and realize now about whenever I do have actual "vacation" time: just how poorly I use it. I know I'm not alone in feeling and thinking this way.

I brought home a stack of magazines and books from the library after my last appointment, more so to keep the passing of this time on the cheap side, to budget for more impending chiropractic and massage treatment bills. Amongst them is one fittingly called At Home: A Short History of Private Life, by Bill Bryson. Initially, I never gave much thought about the prospective content of the book; I just really like Bryson as a non-fiction writer, and I haven't read this particular book of his that he wrote yet. He can take the most ordinary of things that most people take for granted, and he'll explain them as amazing topics embellished with detail, with a profound and interesting commentary on their placement and effect in our social history. He definitely is not a textbook writer. Dull things look extraordinarily meaningful, which I thought would be a welcome type of diversion to practice for around here right now. This book, wonderfully, adds a new and fresh  perspective about the development of housing throughout the course history, and the forces and cultural events that determined our very social evolution of lodging ourselves and way we design, assign, and utilize the space inside what we designate as our home. It should be required reading for architects, cultural anthropologists, interior designers, sociologists, psychologists, history teachers, engineers, economists, or people who just want to market home and furniture supplies, like with RONA, IKEA, or Home Depot.

Addendum: Today it officially is six months of winter for this region: snow coverage since Oct 22, 2012. If we still have snow around here by May, I think we'll be seeing a few people around here going postal.

*- It's called the bunny chair, not because it looks like a kiddie chair with pictures of bunnies on it, but because its former owner claimed that it was mostly used by their family pet: a rabbit. I found through local online buy and sell ads, and got it for free. An effort to reduce, reuse, recycle. There are marks around the base of the chair of evidence where the rabbit gnawed and scratched at it. Ella was sniffing at it suspiciously for a few weeks before she felt comfortable enough to use it. She, of course, is the most frequent user of this piece of furniture, it's the perfect size for her to curl up on.

**- Despite the weather and having moments of opportunity to do so, I rarely ever used them to just to dwell in those 4 square meters for any prolonged amount of time, like I have now.

***- Mostly due to the fact that my hours of work are skewed into the zone of when everyone else has their evening/weekend social entertainment hours.

Immobile Again, Spectating The Police Marathon

I've been rendered immobile and useless again, with more physical injury and pain. I won't go into any more specifics: the instances of irony are so complicated, and just too ridiculous to relate, and if I did write the whole story out this entire entry would just turn into a great big whine-fest. I'm forced to sit still again for another stretch of recovery time, back on pain medication, and now including muscle relaxants for this time around (so I feel especially feeble). I'm going absolutely crazy with having all this time off, without being able to do anything useful, or be fit enough in body or the senses to do anything else productive or enjoyable.


I wish this picture showed it better, but the river ice in the
background is still at least 30 cm at it's thickest.

I'm tired of analyzing and cramming my head full of details of vehicle consumer reports, engine specs, and car adverts. It's all pointless since I'm now too groggy to do any objective test driving. I switched over to reading science journals and technology magazines for a bit of change: stuff that normally interests and impresses me, but it's just not sticking in my head right now, and I'm only giving myself eye strain. I'm alright and better in the mornings, and today I've had enough lucidity to check out the Saskatoon Police Marathon 2013. It's a shame that I am this way, or else I would have registered. However, given the weather conditions today, I'm glad I didn't. It was minus four Celsius, but with the wind chill and the humidity blowing off from the river, it felt more like -18; I was very underdressed for it. It has been the coldest beginning of the third week of April that I ever experienced in my life. Ella was with me, and she was almost putting crawl marks into the sidewalk, as she tried to drag me back to the car after fifteen minutes of being around the unsheltered part of the landing along the north bank. Despite her small size, given my current state, it was really painful to restrain her. She would make a good midget sled-dog: if she could tolerate cold better.



My friend, Marilyn, was a real trooper to endure
the five km stretch of this race.

I went to be inspired, so as to not lose hope for myself. If things don't get any worse, and if I just learn to have enough patience to sit still long enough to heal right, and endure a few chiropractic and massage treatments, I hope to be back training again by this coming Wednesday.

I don't know what I'm going to be supplementing my time with to prevent me from snapping into to doing something rash to quell my boredom. On these meds, my brain feels the same way now as it does after being tossed around after a night shift, so I feel especially vulnerable to being stupid and allowing myself to be a victim of my own poor choices. Shopping for cars should thus be definitely out of the question.




The Boston Synchronicity, Baby Turns Seven

I think I'm about 90% healed; still walking with a slight limp. After a couple extra days of healing time, I'll have an indoor trial around the track to see how much my foot can handle the rigours of a casual jog, and then amp it up to a harder run if it's tolerable; all within half an hour to start. The adage of "No pain, no gain!", doesn't apply for proper training in running. The adage of "Once there's pain, settle your ass down", does apply if one ever hopes to temper oneself enough to last through at least 10 kilometres: what I consider as the marginal point between the end of being a casual runner, and the beginning of being a long distance runner.

It's kind of strange to introduce the subject of long distance running in light of what happened yesterday at the Boston Marathon. Strange, in regards to the way in which the convergence of things happened that I was involved with yesterday, just before I found out what happened there. I had the day off, and given that I finally felt free of being under the influence of pain medication, I decided to at least catch up on my correspondence, as I relaxed to watch a movie for the afternoon. The movie I selected was The Hurt Locker, a movie about everything bomb related, from diffusion, to their degree of destruction, to the stress imposed on those dealing with them. At the same time, I was messing around online, dealing with changing some details with my registration at the Saskatchewan Marathon. Then, just as I was closing that matter up, I received the newsflash on the CBC app on my phone about the explosions at the Boston Marathon. This experience of noticing these three normally independent things in the news and media related to marathons and/or bombings, all at the same time, was just too much of an eerie coincidence for me to ignore. I'm not superstitious, nor do I believe in the supernatural, but that realization at that moment made my hair stand on end. I hope the event series of cause and effect of the result of extra policing and reprisals doesn't become too much more dramatic or tragic than that.


She finally found the first patch of grass large and dry enough
 to roll on today. The best way to start a new year of life.

It just dawned on me that my dog turns seven years old today. Time sure does fly. Given that I'm more mobile, we'll celebrate it with a trip to the dog park, finding new chew bone for her, a few head and belly rubs, and a couple beers for me, now that I don't have to worry about more goofy side effects. It will be at least a day of contentment, and being thankful and happy that we at least live in a place where people aren't so crazily driven with the intent to harm others with indiscriminant mass destruction.

Slow Healing, Going Shack Wacky, Dry Streak

Thursday, April 11

I definitely have to force myself to use a full rest day today. I'm healing slower than I thought I would be; that's my own damn fault.  Despite the fact that I've been more idle than usual, I've still been using my injured foot more than necessary in the past couple days by looking around at cars and attending to some other appointments for this week. I only have enough tolerance to go one other outing that I have to do today, otherwise the new snow coming down today is pretty much a prompt that I need to keep myself planted in one spot for the remainder of the day to allow the swelling to subside. It's in these moments of sitting still that I become quite grouchy and frustrated; sitting here miserably brooding over the fact that I've rendered myself half-crippled out of my own clumsiness and stupidity.

Thus, I retreat into writing. I've been getting really bored, and it doesn't help that I have the disposition to automatically start pacing when I do become bored: it's like the use of my feet are a critical part of some function to get me mentally unstuck. So now, being stuck on a couch seems to be further driving my mind into limbo. I can think of a thousand things to do, but they most of them require me being able to freely stand and walk. The pain-killers have been dulling my senses so badly: anything I try reading from books, or from online is pointless as it ends up being just lost in brain fog; plus they're ruining my appetite with the side effects of dizziness and nausea. Watching too much TV is rotting my mind as well: I keep flipping through channels, but I can't find anything but depressing news*, and there seems to be nothing else intellectually stimulating, engaging, or entertaining.** However, the cane has been a source of entertainment for Ella. It serves as a makeshift hockey stick, to put a little more speed and action on her toys when she wants to chase them around and pounce on them. At least one of us is easily amused. After a while, the insipid little game apps I've found made me feel reduced to a level of a cat chasing a dot from a laser pointer around the floor.

Friday, April 12

Spirits lowered even more: I learned about a death in the extended family, my cousin and uncle have my sympathies. I'm still useless and hobbling around, and can't follow a bead on anything mentally; so I caught a ride with my folks, and ventured out of town with them to watch my brother perform in a dinner theater play. He did a fabulous job with his role, and the production was very entertaining. The setting was about a small rural Saskatchewan farming community in the 1980's, during those bad drought years. It brought back lots of memories, plus their characters in the play were the perfect representative archetypes of the kinds of people I grew familiar with from that time: the stubborn, conservative old farmer; the younger generation, either willingly or reluctantly, pushed into seeking prospects outside of farm living, the free-thinking outsider with ideas and opinions that clashed with the culture at the time . . . it was a great comical story and a fine snapshot of what people were facing around these parts during those times. The play was called Dry Streak, and I would have gave it an award if I could have. I wish the pictures I tried taking of it turned out. I'm grateful to have seen it, and to have a little reprieve from the pain and negativity.

Saturday, April 13

I've been able to get around little better, relying less on the cane for support. The last of my pain-killers will be used today, so hopefully I'll soon be rid of their wretched side effects. If this rate of recovery continues, I hope to be back running again (within 5 km) by the middle of next week.

*- The Rehteah Parsons case in Halifax (so tragic that it's hard not to dismiss the thought using vigilante justice against those who bullied her), and the craziness happening in North Korea, being the most prevalent stories upsetting me most.
**- Actually, that's not 100% correct. I started watching Hannibal. They did well by casting Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelsen for the roles of Will Graham and Dr. Lecter respectively.

Could It Get Even Worse?

Equation for a shitty weekend: (exercise at home) - (proper orthotic footwear) + (startling stimulus) + (excessive force^overcorrection of stance/clumsy footing) = (three hours of intense pain in RUH emergency room waiting to get X-rays)*: yielding (wild cognition/sensation /lucidity distorting pain killers) + (hobbling around with a cane) = (stranded back home, immobile) + (mind on the crazy train, destination: a long ride to Screwyville)**

Screwyville is not the place where one's mind should be while trying to make decisions about buying a vehicle, but nonetheless, I'm doing it, as I explore online shopping sites. I better watch out, or my next vehicle might be something akin to that of what clowns drive around in a circus ring.

*- Thankfully, nothing is broken, most likely plantar fasciitis (hopefully no tissue/ligament damage), but if it affects my mobility it is considered a serious injury.
**- Let's not forget to include even more snow coming down today, just to make getting around with a flippin' cane even more challenging and treacherous.

Slow Thaw, Vehicle Shopping

It's snowing again today. . .blargh!  I'm not posting any more entries after this one about this ugly, freakish season, nor shall I bemoan the fact any longer that there is such a ridiculous amount of snow that has yet to thaw away, bringing on a subsequent heightened flood risk. If we have snow around here on April 20th, we will then be heading into a full six months, exactly half a year, of winter. Any further complaining about the weather is just a waste of time and energy; the point has been made: Mother Nature just really doesn't give a shit. Even the non-humans are revoltingly depressed. I came home last Thursday night, and began to walk the dog, and I heard an enormous flock of migrating geese returning; creating an uproar of honking and squabbling near the river a couple of blocks from me. It was like there was aggression and desperation in their tones; landing and crowding, and fighting for space around the only bit of open water they've probably found at this latitude on their course northward, when instinct is telling them that all this amount of extra ice and snow should definitely not be here. They probably were nagging and bickering at each other; trying to find the culprit leader in the group responsible for this gross "navigation error".




My Dad watching the last of the ice shacks being hauled
away for the season's end 

The really depressing ass-kick into reality about how late spring will arrive came to me on Easter weekend. Some of Good Friday was spent at the closest southern lake to my childhood home, to try out some ice fishing. I didn't have any great expectations to catch many fish (which was good, because none were caught). I went more to inspect the conditions of the lake, to note and estimate when off shore casting could be done from the marina in late spring, where my luck is the best. As it is was, the auger was sank down right to the shaft head on the engine, a full 125 centimeters (a little over four feet) before we bit into water. That's the thickest I've ever seen it for this time of the year. This was about 300 metres from the closest point from the shore. Even with a radical meltdown, I realistically don't expect to be able to come back there, to cast off of the marina, until the first week of June at the earliest.

Currently, I'm reflecting about last year at this time. Within the first week of April, I was running outside on a regular basis, in shorts, and even shirtless, and the streets were all clear for cycling to work. I'm especially bitter about not having ideal conditions for cycling.* Now, at the same time of the month, there are still ice ruts as deep as 20 cm along some neglected and unkempt backstreets, and pot holes that could easily snap off wheels from axles and wreck suspensions while trying to turn out of them. I'm bothered even more that I'm also now pressed into the sordid business of finding another vehicle. Listening to my car bottoming out now, and having its undercarriage scraped off and filed away by rock hard ice while trapped in ruts doesn't inspire me to run out and find another car if there is even one more day of this hazard around.

Generally, I hate shopping for vehicles, or for any other big ticket items where financing plans are necessary. It becomes a stressful responsibility; and I make it a point of not suffering from bull-shitters; so being exposed to so many at once in wheeling and dealing (more like dickering and bickering) with salesmen/private sellers is not in anyway a pleasurable pastime for me. This snowy day, with nothing else to do, pretty much forces me to spend some of the day doing research for one; and I just have no heart to do it right now. I'll never get a new one (unless I won it in a charity raffle or lottery**), the degree of depreciation makes it illogical and impractical. Such a purchase really taxes the over-analytical side of me. I don't make such a big deal about making a vehicle a big part of my personal identity. I'm just realistic and practical. Sure, I have some standards for quality, but I'm not some idiotic gearhead either: the kind who thinks that driving an overpowered or luxury vehicle will somehow automatically make him cool, powerful, or will magically add a few extra inches to his cock***. I choose plain-Jane vehicles more so because I'm not deluding myself away from the fact that nothing around this country and climate will stay pretty, and whatever I get has to be mechanically tough enough to withstand the worst (winter) driving conditions that are thrown at it.

There are enough different cars out there that do appeal to me though that I would like to experience driving in my lifetime. Some aren't considered the best in their particular class, or practical for this region, but I don't care. These are the ones, for now, that I like and my weird reasons for liking them.

• Sport Coupe: Audi (A series) or BMW Z4 - Ahhh, German engineering. . . Vorsprung durch Technik. It's a toss up between the two for me. 
  
• Classics: MGB - This one appeals to the romantic in me. It would be the car to drive a girlfriend to a do picnic in the country or something. Just to be special, my MGB be authentically British, and would have the right-hand steering on it, all the better to cruise and cuddle at the same time.
  
• Compact: Mini Cooper - I loved this little car ever since I saw it perform in The Italian Job. It also appeals to my inner Mr. Bean. It's definitely a vehicle to have if I ever wanted to prove to everyone that I was having a mid-life crisis.
  
• Sedan: Volvo s60 - I have great respect for the Swedes. It's because they are fellow northern climate dwellers who would know how to build a car that could endure bitterly cold weather. That, plus their reputation for rigorous safety standards for all their models. The only time I ever saw a wrecked Volvo was when I watched a documentary about military vehicles on TV, and one was purposely drove over, and crushed by a 60 tonne Swedish Army Leopard tank, to demonstrate the power of the tank. Even then, the damage that was inflicted on the Volvo wasn't as bad as I thought it could have been. I don't need a luxury sedan, but if I ever wanted one that could take the punishment from this region, and not depreciate so rapidly in value, this is what I'd have.
  
• SUV: Toyota Landrover (old school) This to me says "tough, rugged, and cheeky" It looks like it could plow through a herd of gnus in Africa, or burn across the worst of the Australian outback. I look at it and it screams out to me: "Adventure!" It would be a fun little summer vehicle to have (if summer ever friggin' comes here, that is).
  
• Mini Van: VW - I suppose it's because there is this inner hippie that dwells within me. The one below is my preferred model. However, if this winter continues making this place feel like the ice planet Hoth, it may more be practical to use the one below that.
  

 

*-Used the stationary bike at the Field House today. It's the like the same sort of hell as using a treadmill: moving around yet going nowhere. . . like the bloody snow around here.
** - Even then, I'd most likely swap it for a cash prize, or sell it outright, and buy a quality used car and re-invest the rest of the remaining money that otherwise would have been wasted on depreciation.
***- Sadly, I've seen and known too many of these dummies. Speeding around in a muscle car or mega-truck sure didn't/doesn't help them get any smarter either. Such a type of vehicle can indeed be personality magnifiers, but 9 times out of 10 it only exposes just how much of an asshole the driver really is.