BuJo Initiate

It’s the Ex week again, and like for the past few years now, I’ve taken it as holiday time. It has also been the habit to use the time to do practical economical household craft projects each year during this time, as sort of an advanced preparation for making winter a bit cozier. This time around is no exception. Last year, it was some carpentry to reclaim storage space; other years, it has been canning preserves. This year, I’ve minimized and simplified things even more for a multi-day project.

Over the past couple years or so, one positive habit I have been cultivating for myself is carrying

One template format I'm exploring . . .

around a pocketbook and pen. Sure, a note taking app on the phone is quite handy, but when in a pressured dash or impulse to record, capture, and recover something more instantly and accurately while it is on the tip of my brain, the pen and notebook beats the cellphone. I have been finding my old-fashioned pocketbook to be as indispensable to me as carrying my keys, wallet, and my cellphone. It has helped save me a lot of time, money, and energy, especially in spots when the phone had little to no battery power left.

I like technical innovation a lot, but honestly, only up to a certain point. We think we are doing well for ourselves by organizing our lives with apps on our phones and computers, but this is illusory on some levels. It is ultimately making us comply to a complex system that suits tech companies in finding new ways to control us with ones and zeros, and for them to glean more of our money and personal data from us. In this sense, apps can tend to cheapen the quality of your life, or they at least make the data of it more valuable to everyone except yourself. There is a point where we lose sight of being able to create a very personalized, customized, and more organic system that allows us to stage things better for our own organizational needs, our unique learning modalities, our own personal goals; one that accommodates for recording through our more private and practical eccentricities. Those ones are not for sharing, the non-bloggables: thoughts and ideas best left on a page of paper, with the privacy assured.

One of the things I regret about my formal education, from childhood on through to my early university years, in the days before academic computer use, and before the internet was available, is that I never had any teacher at any time of my life who put any effort at all on teaching me how to do the very essential and elemental thing for excelling in true higher learning. That is, really teaching me on how to organize myself with the practical skill of efficient written planning/journaling, and effective note taking. It seems absurd, but it’s true. Sure, I of course learned literacy, but only mastering merely the taking in and absorbing of information part of it. I always had substandard teachers and mentors for helping me exploit my strongest learning modalities to transpose, and express, what was going on in my head in the way I sensed it, and frame it in the best organized and condensed manner on to a page that was most memorable and comprehensive to me. My willingness to write, or “show my work”, as was always demanded of me, just wasn’t there, and from that I think I suffered greatly in such a way that I was always reticent, reluctant, reserved, made to feel embarrassed, about expressing any form of creativity at all through the written word or graphics for the longest time. I was no dullard, there was lots of thinking going on; but I was always embarrassed with my poor organizational ability of trying to sort it out on paper. Capturing thoughts through note taking was like trying to catch wriggling live fish with soapy hands. I improved a lot over the years, but my journey to get better at it has been a very independent and solitary one, and I missed the most critical of years of when what I know now would have served me better at an earlier time. I’m trying to actively compensate for that even today.

This all brings me now to making a concerted effort at learning something that encompasses serving me as a means of approaching efficient minimalism, enhancing my productivity, and being a creative pastime. Currently, I’m immersing myself in the craft of bullet journaling (or BuJo* for short)¹. Like most of my hobbies and pastimes, it is nerdy thing that is a nice blend of aesthetics that pleases the senses, and orderly precision that gets mathematical, scientific, and data oriented. What I gain from doing it is a clearer snapshot of how my mind works while figuring out goal-oriented objectives. One thing I’m noticing is that there is a great and drastic schism in the quality in my handwriting between the floodlight mind (cursive, observing and fervent collecting a vast array of thoughts instantaneously) and my spotlight mind (block printed, mindfully focusing and methodically organizing them on paper, without the pressure of time and other stressful distractions). Comparing the two is seeing my brain operating and functioning in two different levels, or existing on two entirely different worlds, for each process. I wonder if there is name for the weird psychological anomaly to describe this huge difference between each modality. Examples provided.

My manic, brain-on-fire,
"conspitated looking" as one
of my friends once called it,

cursive writing vs.

My relaxed and focused self

block printing

My goal with this pastime is to get a journal formatted and formulated with templates for the

One template I designed that I may 

use for seasonal tasks. I couldn't

 find anything like this in a stationary 

store. Custom made is the way to go!

remainder of this year and the entire coming new year. What will I do with it all? Well, to automate some plans without the actual need for technical automation; to make cybernetic changes and adjustments without the cyberspace. I’m not trying to think like a machine, but I am trying to enhance my own recording and processing of stuff in much the same way that computers do: more effort to taking a small codified, point/mark, or bit of info to record and ramming it through a formatted program or function to filter out a result. Pixilating points (or customized bullets) to track data is a simple and effective way to record progress. The gist of this being investing in time to structure a perfect (for me) format now so that I can waste very little time and material for recording stuff later. Minimal effort through simple coding that can lead to big results. There is stuff to enter that is not as simple as purely numerical, or a yes/no, true/false, 0/1,

kinds of data. Some stuff, of course, is trackable and traceable only on a spectrum, or layers of spectra, or else needs a full out verbal explanation. The modular nature of this system allows for this too. I’m most interested see what kind of artistic infographics I’ll be able to create and incorporate as well. I want to see if I can progress from being crude to making the great leap ahead of being . . . slightly less crude with my graphical talents. Most of the detailed subjects that I will be recording, and tracking, are too personal to post here. However, I will disclose the broader general reasons for this new objective:

• Shifting from Day to Night Mode – Someday, I hope not too soon yet, I will be transitioning to doing night shifts. It will be a major upheaval for my body and mind to adapt to, with phases of insomnia assured to come; my working memory being the worse off casualty due to that. Hence, I’ll have to get into the habit of writing things down more often to not lose track of things. Also, having lists of things to work through eliminates the burdensome and torturous task of having to make decisions in such a state (or suffering consequences of making bad decisions in that way, read further below).
  
• Total Schedule Reorganization - There then must be a major reorganization of my schedule for my daily activity, have a productive rhythm to my day; to conserve my energy, and my social life and relationships outside of work. 
  
• Monitoring Health – Another offshoot of switching to nights is needing to actively check myself over for signs of physical deterioration due to the odd hours and unnatural rhythm of wakefulness. Knowing and marking the ideal time to exercise, and what and when to eat during this (mal)adjustment period is critical also, since “breakfast” kind of doesn’t work (doesn’t feel right) as a meal option in mid-afternoon. Alcohol consumption periods are things to be mindfully reckoning with too. What gets measured gets mastered.
  
• Impulse Grounding – One of the things I have noticed after long bouts of insomnia is the poor ability to make sound decisions. The likelihood of acting on impulse rather than think things through rises significantly. For example, this is especially bad when I want to commit to a minimalist lifestyle, but then act on a reckless spending spree for impractical things after too little sleep. BuJo is a way to do a brain dump and check your thoughts outside yourself, with some frame of order, to analyze and weigh pros and cons. At the very least, the very act of doing this is a much cheaper alternative of using one’s time rather than falling into an impulsive habit of mindless consumption of whatever it is that one could possibly become addicted to.
  
• Cheap Hobby – It only needs: a writing instrument of your preference, and a good quality dot

  

  My entire Bullet Journaling kit.

  (or grid) paged journal for the basics. For refined line forming for edging and bordering and such, a cheap geometry set from a dollar store works. Additional lettering stencils and templates can be found cheap in an arts and craft shop, or even in a dollar store. Just engage the imagination, and that’s it. A minimalist’s dream come true! Very portable, and it doesn’t need a battery for power (except maybe just a good source of caffeine). It’s a big step upward from an adult colouring book anyway, and far more practical to use as well.
  
• Veering Away from Toxic Social/News Media – Simply substituting a bad use of time for a better, more constructive, one. I will have a genuinely more enriching time working on a means to sort my own life’s issues, and creating my own viable solutions for approaching problems and goals than thinking and believing, that during these turbulent politically charged times of the election season, that any government or other social institution, is going to be genuinely interested in doing that for me. It’s my time to opt out of indiscriminately spending too much time and attention on negative news and social media during these times of waiting for our nation’s federal election coming this October, and the bloody ridiculous circus of the still 454 remaining days of campaigning until the American election. Working on my own betterment through my journals will be a nice retreat away from all this.

The most satisfying and enriching thing about using BuJo as an analogue system of note taking and calligraphy²: purposely taking a plain word and page space and embellishing it such as to make it so strikingly elegant and distinctly vivid enough that it becomes impossible to ignore. Imagine then how much more powerful it would look when it is applied to a whole written thought or idea. Goals are made to appear to have an esteemed meaning, as truly worthy goals should. It somehow makes your own ideas and listed tasks and duties appear more alive/animated. Even the duller things on a to do list can then look like they could be integral parts of some overall grand adventure.

A potential syllabus list

with flipped open pages

to record book titles

journaling is the chance and choice to be liberally creative and expressive with stylish lettering and artwork in one’s journal, thus further stimulating and empowering one to use the entire brain; not just the analytical and logical left hemisphere. I really believe there is some weight to this as a benefit, adding artful flourishes through doodles, and calligraphy.

I’m coming closer to understanding why monks in the medieval era were charged with the tasks of illuminating pages, making copies of calligraphic manuscripts, and other such scrivenery. Apart from being just merely literate, to do such a job well very much requires and demands a deeply focused, disciplined, and meditative mind. It can be very relaxing. However, I’m certainly not a monk. The best advice I could give as a novice for starting a page template is just to dive right into it. It is 100% guaranteed that it will be imperfect at the start, making lots of mistakes in your initial formatting, lettering, and page section alignment. So, once that is all done, set it aside for a long while, have a drink or two, then come back and review it, and then be totally relentless, ruthless, and absolutely merciless with editing it, and redo it until you get the right design and style that really satisfies you. You are allowed be your own harshest critic since you are going to be the only one interacting with this material; you have no one to please but yourself by taking such a measure.

The first mess . . .

. . . then the final product. Custom made and adapted for a coding 

matrix system unique and personal to me, and again, 

it can't be found in any regular stationers shop.

I have nothing more to include with this entry, except for this last thought from a quote by the author of my guidebook:

“Each Bullet Journal becomes another volume in the story of your life. Does it represent the life you want to live? If not, then leverage the lessons you've learned to change the narrative in the next volume.”
― Ryder Carroll, The Bullet Journal Method: Track the Past, Order the Present, Design the Future

*- I like Bujo because sounds more to me like some unique, Zen-based, Japanese term for some sort of work ethic discipline, like kaizen.

1. The initial resource I used was The Bullet Journal Method by Ryder Carroll. I solidified the reason why I decided to undertake this; after that though, I’ve been finding a multitude of ideas for personalization on Pinterest.

2. I’m not ashamed to say, as a guy, that I love the artform of calligraphy. Before you scoff and think by default that it’s a sissy craft to do, consider this: the most instrumental class that Steve Jobs said he ever took (before he dropped out of college) which he said had been the most influential one for the inception of the Mac computer wasn’t a software programming class, wasn’t a computer science or engineering class; it was a calligraphy class. In a roundabout way, the practice of it forced him to see things differently through the elegance of design, and natural forms and ease of interface that made one want to engage with using a computer. Proper design is powerful stuff!

To Build a Bridge to a Dream in 10 days

I started writing this on the last hours of the eve of Groundhog Day. I don't anticipate a positive report for tomorrow, but today begins a new month, and since January was such a depressing write-off, it's time to be firm and take steps to put some serious action and effort for more growth oriented projects. I put some time into establishing some metrics for the goals I set out to achieve, by reading back through some past entries, notes, and journals to winnow out what wasn't working out for me, and thinking about how to secure and engrain whatever is left that does.

While accounting for my time ahead, I'm discovering that it's one of those rare times when I have an approach-approach dilemma. As it approaches the end of the fiscal year, like every other year since I've worked where I am, I again have a sizeable chunk of unused vacation time remaining. I'm sitting here wondering if I'm just going to take it as a pay out, as with all the other years, or take the actual time off. Considering all the extra stress I'm going to be facing ahead with negotiations reopening, it might be a more prudent measure to take the time off. If I do book it all off in the right cycle, I'll have about 10 days off. There is nothing to make any stretch of time between mid-February/March look appealing around this territory; as we're only through 65-75 % of the way through winter. Travel was suggested by a friend at work; I wish I had her enthusiasm about the idea, but what I really have been missing most is a substantial sense of accomplishment from starting and completing a personal project that flows along a middle range timeline. Traveling somewhere won't give me that satisfaction*. With the time constraints that I have, I've only been stuck doing either very short term (within a day) projects, or tiny and slow progressive stages of very long ones. I've been trying to think about things that I could do that are radically life changing that could be done within the span of 7 - 10 days. The stuff that comes to mind of things that I've done in the past that fit such criteria are:

• Cramming the essential elements of another language (as in the case of me learning enough Spanish on an intermediate level that allowed me to travel abroad for six months). I know one person who I should try and find moments to Skype with to work on my German. I should also find someone to talk for improving my French, which I learned years ago but never found use for.
• Re/learning HTML and other programming tricks.
• Practicing some guitar, learning some new songs
• Assembling something to make some sort of functional gizmo.
• Building some furniture**
• Redecorating/painting my condo (too expensive to do now).
• Writing essays which I can get academic credits/certification for (which means I'd need a meaningful course to apply to, which is probably too late to register for now).
• Dating. Well . . . I lie, this is not truly a thing where I have found either success or satisfaction in doing, and it's doubtful that it will be a course I take ahead. The only radical thing in life that it has done for me was show me how few single women there are out there around my age who would take a liking to someone like me, and to show me just how petty, self-centred, immature, and/or just plain friggin' crazy people can be. It has come to where I am disillusioned to some point beyond just simply feeling flawed, jaded, and hopeless. I really just hate the indignity of it all. It's worse than trying to muddle through any job market. I'm coming to really wish that I lived in a place like Sweden, where one of my correspondents who lives there tells me that, in comparison to here, there really isn't any sort of ritualized form of dating, or at least there is less burdening of themselves and each other with gender roles, or pressure/expectations***, and men and women generally demonstrate more sexual equality, openness, and respect for each other.

It will be interesting to see what else I'll turn up when I peruse Instructables, or when I attack Google's search field with the words "10 day DIY projects", and if I do decide to book that time off.

*- Having the same stuck mind and taking it on a tour around a different place isn't really positive change.
**- I would need to borrow my father's workshop if I choose to do something like this, but it would take me two to three days alone just to de-clutter it and organize that place enough just to make it operational for my standards.
***- When I meet people around here, why is there some expectation for me be either some sort of business tycoon, or a professor, a dumbass redneck cowboy, or some sort of worthless macho/gangsta badass shithead with an inked-up hide?

Vacation Day X: Brooding, Brewing, & Planning for a Better Escape Next Summer

I quit counting the days off that I've used since this past Tuesday. There has been nothing eventful since then, except for sobering issues that I had to address on Wednesday evening, all of which were work related. Other less than favourable circumstances have me restricted to being a homebody. So, I settled with converting the kitchen into a laboratory, to start brewing some beer, and then I continued to monkey around with other wildly experimental ways of cooking and food prep that just run shy of me using liquid nitrogen and explosives.

The brewing project is going well so far. The yeast culture is alive, activated, and doing what it loves to do best: making alcohol. I love hearing the initial rhythmic released bursts of CO₂  escaping from the fermenter's airlock, as it matches the same cadence and frequency of a person's heartbeat at rest . . . a tell-tale sign that this life form is being well-nurtured and content. Yeah sure, I suppose that sounds a little flaky . . . but I'd rather share this little blurb with an embellishment of romanticism than describing it all with the more accurate scientific explanation of what is really going on through this process: the synchronous expulsion of gas that is an expended metabolic by-product of digestion from micro-organisms. In other words . . . a pulsating release of the collected billions of tiny yeast farts.

I had to force myself to settle down, and let my ankles and knees recover from the shock of using my toe shoes (Hobbit boots) for running again. These things are a delight to run in, but they play havoc to the leg muscles when doing any extended period of walking in them. I became so seduced by how wonderfully I was performing with them on my run that I overshot my training range by a hell of a long way, and I'm paying for it now.

My review of last entry led me to search through travel sites for getting ideas for cheap packages for next summer. I figured that I'd extend my running to hitting a race or two out of province, or even out of country. I'd be doing neither races further south of here, nor any around the great lakes region in summer*: I don't handle heat and humidity very well as it is now. I figured that I could do a marathon in Quebec, or the Maritimes, or someplace in Northern Europe which would be suit me better: maybe somewhere between the latitudes of Reykjavik and Zurich. I have more research, and whittling down of options, to do.

*- Maybe in mid or late autumn.   

My Christmas Lists

I'm very much secure in knowing that the dummies who believe in the Mayan Calendar Doomsday thing are quite mistaken.* So, it's time to lighten up a bit and to start having a few happy thoughts for this holiday. Maybe going into a trance and doing a bit of free-association in writing out these lists would help me get into the spirit of the holiday more, and eventually spur me on to finish my Christmas shopping. Anyhow, here it goes:

Top 10 Favourite Christmas Foods

1. Buttertarts
2. Cabbage Rolls
3. Buttertarts
4. Turkey with Stuffing and Gravy
5. Buttertarts
6. Wild Mushrooms in Cream Sauce
7. Buttertarts
8. Shortbread Cookies
9. Tangerines
10. You guessed it. . . more Buttertarts

Top 10 Favourite Christmas Drinks (to suit my ever-fluctuating sways between the vulgar and the sophisticated)

1. Rye and Coke
2. Big Rock Wart Hog Ale
3. Spiced Rum and Coke
4. Clamato Juice/Virgin Cæsars (Otherwise, this stuff being dumped in beer, or mixed with vodka is ruined for me)
5. Gin and Tonic
6. Red Wine (Merlot, Shiraz, Cabinet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Malbec)
7. Big Rock Traditional Ale
8. Bristol Cream Sherry/Port Wine
9. Cranberry Punch
10. White Wine (Gewürztraminer, Riesling, Chablis, Pinot Grigio)

The 7 Stores I Actually Like Going to in Saskatoon during Christmas Time**

1. McQuarries' Teas and Coffees (great assortments and gift baskets of coffees, teas, and hot chocolate)
2. Bulk Cheese Warehouse (cheese/sausage/deli food to me are like what candy is for everyone else)
3. Saskatchewan Liquor Stores (for samples and free magazines, and of course, booze)
4. Bill's House of Flowers (the smell in there instantly cures the winter blues)
5. McNally Robinson (Canadian owned bookstore, the problem is that I have more in mind as what to get for me rather than shopping for my loved ones)
6. Early's (Close by, locally owned, pet friendly, lots of stuff there for the gardeners/pet lovers)
7. Lee Valley (Canadian owned, lots of stuff there for woodcrafters/hobbyists and gardeners)

Top 10 Playthings That Would Delight Me To Get As Gifts (Even Now as An Adult)***

1. Chess Set
2. Scrabble^®
3. Go (Igo in Japanese) board
4. Risk^®
5. Wood Block/Jigsaw puzzles
6. Domino Set
7. Mah Jong Tiles
8. Mancala Board
9. Dart Board
10. Chinese Checkers

Top 10 Other Significant Gifts That Would Be Cool to Get

1. The Remastered Release of the CD, 2112, by Rush (Release date Dec 21/12, same day as the Mayan Calendar Apocalypse thing) to compensate for their concert I missed here earlier in September)
2. Cross Country Ski Pants (Salomon)
3. Mandolin style slicer/shredder (for my kitchen)
4. Windows 8 Upgrade
5. Djembe Drum (I may risk annoying the hell out of my neighbours, but had so much fun with one of these at my last convention)
6. Ledge planters (for growing more stuff on my deck while conserving space)
7. Bamboo Steamer (for my wok, the old one fell apart, two tiers plus lid)
8. Gift card from Pier One or HomeSense (I need to spruce the place up a bit)
9. Gift card from anyplace that sells f*$^%ing shoes that fit me
10. Actual time to enjoy this stuff (or more time to enjoy the cool stuff I already have, and be with the people I like)

Some Songs/Albums That Aren't Christmas Specific, but Fit The Season Well

1. Imagine - John Lennon
2. Winter - Tori Amos
3. Ring Out Solstice Bells - Jethro Tull
4. Gregorian Chants Album
5. The Coldest Night of the Year - Bruce Cockburn

*- It's pretty stupid to put credence into some apocalyptic predictions of a culture's religious calendar , when the same said people couldn't even predict their own civilization's demise.
**- During the holidays, I try to support my local merchants/retailers stores whenever I can.
***- Oddly and surprisingly, even after all this time, I still don't have any of these games around my own home. I'd like quality crafted classic board games, not a cheap plastic facsimile. The lack of knowing more people around interested in playing such things, and having so little time at home to play them are the reasons/excuses. The sad thing about the preponderance of video games is that the simple fun and social pleasures of a board or card game are getting phased out, getting replaced by too much simulated violence.

Blue Moon, Blasting Skies, Alchemy of Being

I'm chilling outside, under the glow of the second full moon of this month: a blue moon. It's one of the last few evenings of the year that it will be nice enough to sit out here and close a day with sipping a glass of wine under the stars. I always find the tastiest watermelons around the end of August, and tonight I'm snacking on some that has been enhanced with a sprinkling of Tajin, a Mexican spice blend I found, concocted specifically to be added to slices of fruit. It gives it a wonderful sharp, zippy bite of citrus and chili, balanced by a slightly salty tang that contrasts nicely with the juicy sweetness. It was the perfect bedtime snack to have after I came back from the fireworks festival down by the river. A fireworks festival is the perfect event to have to symbolize the fading away of a Canadian summer: lively, animate, a burst of hot fiery glorious beauty within the year that feels like it comes and goes way too quickly and fleetingly. The flash of colours lead to the expectation of the changing leaves as autumn approaches.

That excursion, my book, plus sitting out here, were my first real breaks of the day. Before and after work, most of it was spent charging around and frantically writing up some correspondence to get some things prepared before deadlines today.

As I said, I read a bit after all that stuff was over with. If I was ever so diligent enough to create and upkeep a blog or numeric list article about a manly man's guide to literature*, the novel The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, would definitely be on it. It has been perhaps effecting me more deeply than I thought it would, now that I sit back and meditate on all the actions I took today to work some things out for the better. It seems like a recent entry into the book market, but in actuality, the work is twenty some odd years old. It's one of those universal and timeless stories, with lots of interplay using archetypes. It's sort of an adventure story; not one with a high level of action or drama in the content of the story, but if you have a real soul in you, it triggers you to recollect and probe into any part of some aspect of the adventure of your own life, in terms of both successes and regrets, where you found yourself chasing after a dream. Paradoxically, it's loaded with a setting and themes of things exotic and mysterious, yet is not as riddle laden as one may initially think: it gets very direct and revealing about some of life's deeper wisdom and truths. I wonder if this writing style is just a unique facet related to literary Portuguese, from which this story was translated, or more of a direct characteristic of the author.

Be warned, this book might make you want to approach your desires in life with a little more passion, as well as tuning into using your present moment to do something more pleasantly constructive. It's a Zen book.


*- Such a blog would probably be called something like, Books for Guys Who Like All Things Related to Beer, Boobies, Action Movies, Dirty Jokes, and Things with Loud Throbbing Engines, and Are yet Still Worldly and Securely Masculine Enough to Not Be Ashamed to Admit to Themselves and Others That They Have an Intellectual and Emotionally Sensitive Side That Needs to Be Nurtured and Stimulated With Deeply Awe-Inspiring, Philosophically  Engaging, Life-Enriching, Soulful, and Thought Provoking Literature. . . Ok, ok . . . I'll work on shortening that title.

Weird Dreams, Yucky Taxes, Happy Feet, Gardenscape

I ascended and reached the top of the narrow stairwell and turned right, entering the place that was my bedroom of my old childhood home. The radio was playing on the cheap, boom box stereo I owned that was perched on the old chest of drawers with the sloppily applied dark walnut-coloured stain and weathered looking varnish.  The radio’s reception was half loaded with static, and I tried to adjust the tuning, but it wouldn’t change to anything clearer. It was night time, and I looked to my left towards the window to see that there were glowing sparks streaking across the sky heading eastward. I went back downstairs, and out the front door walking about 8 meters from the entrance. I turned around, and looked up toward the west, looking above the roof of our house back on the farm. It was a meteor shower, appearing to sweep very low over the sky, directly above our homestead. Suddenly, one of the streaks changed its trajectory, and came careening down toward very close to where I was standing. It brushed over the huge old shady Black Poplar tree that grew on the south east corner on the front of our house, and landed in the yard close to where we used to incinerate garbage. It continued to burn brightly for a while. Unlike any other meteorite when it lands, there was no blinding flash of light or explosive blast upon impact. It rested flat on the ground, making some of the grass burn around it, but leaving no impact crater. It stopped glowing and then instantly became cool enough to touch. The shape of the rock itself was like a prism, about one and a half meters in height at the apex, and 3 meters long. It was hollowed out inside, I could tell by a crack on its surface. I pressed against the end face of the stone prism, and it crumbled away. It was like a weird celestial storage locker. Inside of it were incredible things: rolled up scrolls and canvases of some kind of art that was too intricate and beyond any description I could ever give.  There were bars and ingots of gold, platinum, along with other semi-precious metals; there was another special article there too, which for a split second caught my attention. It was a . . .

And that’s when the train awoke me from this dream, as I heard its whistle and its rumbling going across the South CNR Bridge at 6:00 AM yesterday morning. This really burns my ass. This kind of dream: with myself encountering a surprise source of some sort of treasure, is a commonly recurring theme for me. During the climax of the dream, just when I'm about to see what the big discovery is, there perhaps is a physiological surge of adrenaline that gets triggered through the excitement, which stirs me awake before I get to see what the great wonder actually is, or to remember any more detail in the dreamscape. Or, as in this case with the train noise, I coincidently get awoken by some external stimulus. The initial findings usually appear to be “money”, or strangely printed paper currency, which is another reason why probably collect foreign bills. It would be interesting to know what this all is supposed to mean if it were properly Interpreted. I’ll probably check out the dream section of Hyperdictionary, just for a hoot later.

Sleeping with the window opened a quarter of the way, to have a train’s horn disturb me was a consequence of a forgotten detail from the spring cleaning and airing out the place the day before. It took up most of my day. I honestly shouldn’t have done it because I never felt had energy for it to begin with, since I did a long stint of work before that. I ended that day very exhausted, with a bad headache, but at least nothing is looking further neglected.

I used one of my two mental health days I’m allotted for the year yesterday. I should have used it and the other one long ago. Since yesterday was the last working day I had before the end of the fiscal year, I thought I had better not waste it and I used it to file my bloody taxes, and deal with all other personal fiscal matters. It’s hardly what a “mental health” day should be used for, but I figured it would be in my best interest and easier to pool my energy into dealing with this bit of hell, and then have two full days off to relax, rather than doing it sporadically amidst all the extra shopping and other junk to do; coming back on Monday as a real tired, grouchy son of a bitch. I thought I’d better get those affairs in order and cleared out of the way before making all my other travel plans for the month of April. I’ll be visiting the family for Easter, and attending the burial of my Grandmother’s ashes later in the month. My Dad’s health is as yet a big question mark, but I hope he’ll be released from the hospital before Easter. I’m preparing for contingencies of repeat visits though.

Anyhow, my taxes, plus some other aggravating paperwork, took a few frustrating hours to process, with one break to do some jogging. Then I used the remainder of the day for something else that isn’t conducive for promoting good mental health for me. That would be shopping for shoes.

Sorry boys . . . time to retire.

The 2012 Federal Budget was just released recently from Ottawa, and it’s the Canadian parliamentary tradition for the Minister of Finance to buy new shoes for that day. I figured that since I’ve been probing through my own annual expenses and budget that I should do the same. It couldn’t be avoided any longer, as the ones I have now are pretty much tattered, and I wasn’t going to the bloody malls during a Saturday before the Easter weekend looking for them. I utterly hate shopping for shoes because there are so very few durable, good-quality shoes that actually fit my stupid, semi-deformed feet* properly. It’s easier for me to buy a vehicle for myself than it is to get a decent pair of all-purpose, utilitarian shoes. Like most average Canadian men, I generally avoid shopping for anything that can’t just be grabbed off the shelf and taken straight to the till. I don’t like having to physically try on things to test them; that’s unavoidable when it comes to shoe shopping. I look in hopeless disgust at the heaps of dozens of open shoe boxes that some poor shop worker has went through so much trouble to get for me, only to find out that it was all an exercise in futility to find any hiking or sports shoes that fit my feet, along with my custom made orthotics. I could move on to as many as three or four stores, spending most of a day doing this before I find anything. I’d probably be the shoe customer that would ultimately make someone like Al Bundy blow his brains out. I hate the seriously ridiculous amount of wasted time that is used for this kind of quest. When I do find any they very seldom end up ever being bought at a bargain. This time though, I did manage to eventually find something without too much wasted effort, and not too terribly expensive, but how long they’ll actually last is still a question for debate. I noticed just how much all the running I’ve done has again changed the characteristics of my posture and walking also, and so my orthotics may need to be adjusted, or changed.

New babies

I think I subconsciously and purposely keep all my runners shabby, scuffed up, and riddled with holes, as to dissuade anyone from stealing them, and the expensive orthotics inside them. In a scenario where, God forbid, some maniac is trying to mug me, brandishing a weapon, and demanding that I hand over my wallet, I probably wouldn’t think twice about complying**. However, if the same bastard started pressing me to hand over my shoes, all I’d have to do is think about all the miserable frustration, and anger that I’d be faced with in trying to replace them (and the orthotics), and channel that energy onto this prick as I tackled him. Facing that kind of rage and fury, he’d be begging to die by some other comparatively more merciful, less painful/ humiliating/torturous means instead. I know I’ve been on this subject too long, and even though I’d like it to not have to be so, getting a pair of good, durable shoes for my feet is necessarily a big deal for me, since most of my time is spent with serving people who can’t use their own, and are relying on mine instead. Knowing this, one becomes a lot more appreciative and conscientious of allowing their feet do their job comfortably, and even more so, maintaining the ability to walk properly, seeing day after day how limiting life can be without the ability to do so. I suppose that’s also what’s been bothering me a bit: seeing the kind of condition my own father is in now, and how his mobility is being impaired.

The best sign of spring.

Oooh Yeeeah. . . Daddy like!
Must get this for Man Cave.

Today, the trade show in the neighbourhood this weekend is Gardenscape. The only thing garden related and practical for me would be small container gardening for my balcony, but then I remembered after paying my admission that my deck space is going to be renovated this summer, and thus it would be kind of pointless to plan on planting anything out there. So, initially I felt kind of stupid for even bothering to go there. However, I endeavoured to make it worth my while. I found a demo massaging armchair that I used for a few minutes, and it did me a world of good. It made it worth the cost of entry alone. My own therapeutic masseuse's fee is several times more than the admission to Gardenscape was. Plus, unlike my masseuse, the chair didn’t make me feel like I was getting my hide ripped off of me. I feel so much better. By another lucky happenstance, I made contact with a cute little woman in charge of a housecleaning service, who provided good credentials and references. I think I’ll use her instead of troubling myself with the next go around of long term neglect/absence and seasonal cleaning. I wish I found her sooner. My only other big home project is to reorganize my kitchen space, and then I should be content. I some got ideas for that from Lee Valley, who also had reps there. That chair, new shoes, the smell of flowers, and the loamy aroma of living soil, made me I feel like a new person. I entered a few draws, and with my luck, I would probably win the most impractical thing to ever have around this place: a hot tub (there were like a dozen vendors for them there). It would actually be worse than not winning anything. I have nowhere to put one. I hope there is a cash prize option.

The kind of sign I should own.

*-Not really grossly deformed, but enough to keep me out of the CAF (Canadian Armed Forces) back in the years when I would have considered enlisting, and enough to give me a lot of future spinal/ambulation problems without any corrective support. It didn’t help that my feet/knees were subjected to a lot of punishment doing repetitive and intensive heavy labour during the years of my first wage-earning job after high school, which still has as impact on me I’m sure even today.

**-Judging by all my earlier tax calculations, he wouldn’t find anything in there anyway. The federal government beat him to it.