Making It Up As I Go Along #347

MONDAY...
— One of the rare times that Monday is actually Monday for me. I work the day shift and, for some reason, the 12 hours seem longer. I’m exhausted once home and actually fall asleep on the sofa from 9:00 to 10:00 even though I struggle to stay awake. Even then, I’m soon to bed after waking.

TUESDAY...
— Well I was soon to bed... but not to sleep. Despite being tired when I went to bed Monday night, I tossed and turned until just past midnight. Not good when wake up is 4:45.
— Work is tough. Tired and it’s busy there. The busiest I’ve been in the new job. Phil, the partner has been good and patient anyway.
— A bit of a snooze after I get home and up late to get into night mode.

WEDNESDAY...
— Finally get in touch with Mazda for the service. I’ll be skipping them for winter tires though... yikes on the cost of that with them.
— Easy day around the house with a good nap in the afternoon. All set for night shift.
— Shift goes well. It’s pretty busy until about 2:00 AM and then we coast to the end. I’m alone from 6:00 to 7:30... go to the gym at 1:00. The downside was it took 45 minutes to get to work (thanks to an accident on the highway) and I was 15 minutes late relieving the dayshift. Steph wasn’t too thrilled with that. But nothing much can be done about it.

THURSDAY...
— Not a load of sleep this morning. Bed by 6:15 and up around 10:30. The afternoon nap is again a good thing before work.
— Work goes alright. Chinese food for supper. Talk with Megan some. Do the gym again... and come Friday morning, I’m off. -15 with the wind tonight though... brr.

FRIDAY...
— Up just before noon and off to look at a house at 1:00. It’s not bad... tempting for an offer... I could see it as a long term kind of place... I don’t know.
— Groceries in the evening and a little TV plus chat times with mom and dad... then Edena on the phone.

SATURDAY...
— House day. It’s too cold to go out without a purpose. Around -13 with the wind.
— Some naps, movies, and hockey. Patrick Roy’s number retirement in Montreal is good to see. He belongs within the Montreal Canadien family. But parts of it were kind of tacky in the doing. Not the ceremony I’d have wanted... but still, the ovation he got from the fans made it for me.

SUNDAY...
— I’m getting really tired of the advertising for war video games. It’s all about worldwide Armageddon with these adds. I think, in this day and age, with the United States taking part in two military conflicts at the same time, glamourizing military video games is sending the wrong message. I really fear that war has become an excepted part of North American society. As accepted as any other occupation and glamourized as much as any pro sport. Times of war should be exceptions to the norm... not a part of it.
— Lose softball by default. Not enough girls show for us today. So we play a scrap game... lose that too but have fun doing it.
— To a pub after the game for supper, a few drinks, and three quarters of the Grey Cup. Get home to see the end.


Action On the Side
RCMP Deals. There are some out there. Little perks with working with Canada’s national police agency.

Yes you see the deals the cops get in the movies. Where they walk their beat, stop by the bakery and get handed a free bagel by the appreciative baker. Then they head on down the street, pass by a fruit stand, and come away with a free apple.

Donut shops have always been portrayed as the cop hangout where free donuts and coffee perk them up while on duty.

And in those darker cop movies, you have the free sack of cash from the local, mop run gambling joint... just to help the law look the other way.

I’ve been told there are several discounts available to the RCMP employees. Although I will say I’m too bashful to try it out. I don’t know which places are friends of the RCMP and which ones aren’t. Do I go in to Sears, pick out some clothes and a TV, head to the checkout and whisper “Yeah... umm... I work with the RCMP you know.”

It could go either way, in such a scenario...

“Yes sir, very good sir... and 50% your discount, have a nice day.”

Or...

“I see, that must be nice... that’ll be $2200.”

I have once dropped the RCMP line. I had a throat problem and decided to get to the doctor. Being in Canada, and being relatively new to this city, I had no actual doctor of my own. It’s the Canadian thing now. If you haven’t kept the same doctor since the day you were born, you’re out of the loop. 90% of the doctors around here aren’t taking new patients. Not only that, they even seem to get annoyed at the audacity of even asking them if they would consider such a request. You’d call the office and get the receptionist giving a cheery “good morning, Dr. Smith’s office.” But when they realize what you’re calling about... the change is amazing.

“Hi, I was wondering if the Doctor is...”

“No, he isn’t” (click).

“taking new... hello?... hello?”

So anyway, with that said, it’s to the walk in clinics for me. These are those doctor offices you go where you see large men in wife beater shirts holding a cloth to their skull in order to keep the blood from running into their eyes... while still making sure not to actually dislodge that fork that’s embedded up there. It’s also the place where older women who seem to have lived three lives for your one (that’s how worn down they look) leave their shopping carts just outside the door. No, there’s not a grocery store in the vicinity. They just always take their shopping cart with them... just in case they come across something of interest.

So this is where I go when death is upon me. And a few days before I go, I’m told that at this particular doctor’s clinic, the RCMP gets preferential treatment. Let them know you work with the RCMP and you will be the next to be seen... so the story goes.

So at the counter, feeling sickly and slightly afraid of the large man in the wife beater with the forked skull, I drop the little nugget of info. “By the way, I work with the RCMP.”

“Very good, take a seat and the doctor will see you shortly.”

So I sit nearer the shopping cart ladies and further from forky and I scan the room. Several down and out elderly people are sitting... too defeated by illness to even pick up a magazine... they stare off to a distant place I can not see. And small children are being caressed by desperate mothers.

I can see no more than this quick scan of the room as I hear the calling of my name... that is fast!

I rise sheepishly. Last one to sit and first one to be summoned. I go straight for the open door without looking. I feel the stares of the elderly. I feel the stabbing pain of hatred from Giant Forked Man. But I’ve gone too far, I can’t go back now... and in I go.

I still get the bad doctor. RCMP privileges only go so far. The guy even offers to take me on as one of his regular patients! I mean how bad can a doctor be if he’s asking you “wanna be my patient?”

So I give him a look, think to myself “thank you know... leech doctor” and tell him I’ll think about it. I run through the lobby, hoping to avoid detection by the masses as I depart.

I now hear that cell phones are another perk for the RCMP. There is an RCMP plan, supposedly. So I’ll have to look into this and possibly join the cell phone age. Unlimited calling and text messages for a dollar a month!

It’s like walking by fruit stands... and I’m ready for my apple.

Making It Up As I Go Along #346

SUNDAY...
— Work is fairly slow paced but goes by fairly well. Just when you’re done one thing, you get a chance to breath and then move on to the next thing.
— Softball is brutal. 27-2 we lose. Perhaps we should start using gloves! I’m enjoying the field... playing the ball and all... but man... we have to play better.

MONDAY...
— Work goes pretty well for a fairly busy Monday.
— Supper and a movie with Melissa after work. I bring Field of Dreams on DVD. Great movie.
— Finally get a flash drive for computer storage. And it works like a charm. I get all the pictures on my computer... plus all my writing and many other records and such... all backed up with room to spare. And with that, the pictures are finally removed from my camera. I’ve had some pictures on there for more than a year.

TUESDAY...
— Another condo look in the early afternoon. Pretty interesting place in a great location although the financial aspects of things may make it a no go.
— Afternoon nap before the night of work. I get extra time off in the future because of today’s shift on Remembrance Day.

WEDNESDAY...
— Work the night again. Alone for a few hours. Tired by the end of it and home to find messages about condos... deep breath.

THURSDAY...
— Rainy day. Talk to the agent and considering the condo from Tuesday again. Dentist and some groceries... and I’m tired. Nice to be off.
— Talk things through with mom and dad... and via e-mail with Edena... and I think I’m just going to stay away from that condo. There’s an uneasy feeling about it.

FRIDAY...
— Warms up. Around 15 degrees today. I’m really tired though. Lazy... bordering on unconscious... for most of the morning. Go for a walk in the afternoon.
— Things that bug me... Friday edition...
(1) crap in the mailbox. I am sick to death of opening my front door to see so many fliers jammed in there that the lid won’t close and it’s an effort to lift the junk out. All this in the name of getting cheap prices on toothpaste! I’m seriously tempted to remove my mailbox entirely. Any real mail I get is going in that stupid Superbox anyway (the mailman’s lazy box).
(2) roudy kids. I went for two laps of the pond today. One lap takes 15 minutes... so you’re a good 500 yards from any point along the way at any given time. I heard two kids yelling at each other the entire time. And they’re “adult supervision” sat by like a zombie... not moving. I have no issues with play and kids being energetic outside. But if I can’t escape the screams from anywhere other than inside my own home, they’re being too loud for too long.
(3) tires. Four weeks ago some dick neighbour decided that the best idea for their worn out tires was to put them out on garbage day. Four weeks gone by and they’re still sitting there on the corner. My condo corporation has often sent out warning letters to not put out garbage too early and to quickly take in your recycling bins and what not... otherwise the guy they hire to keep the grounds clean will have to take it away. FOUR WEEKS of discarded TIRES! Where do I live? A dump?
(4) Mazda. Two weeks ago I got mail from them saying I’m due to get the car serviced. Three times in two weeks I’ve called them and left messages... three times my message has gone unanswered. Is it the plan of business to bend over backwards getting your business only to then piss on you once they’ve got it? See Rogers for the answer to that one. Scum bags.

SATURDAY...
— Rainy day. I sleep off and on in the morning. Watch a movie... then some football on TV.
— Then it’s time to read some of a book I recently got about one of my all-time favourite albums, Neutral Milk Hotel’s “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea”.
— From there it’s time to listen to my Neutral Milk Hotel collection while I do my weekly writing.


Suburban Darkness
Life in Avalon is normal. And normal, in this sense of the word, is mostly characterless. There are some unique lives. The old Asian couple who come out to walk the pond, her shoulder acting as a crutch for his laboured steps.

Then there is the older lady whose husband died shortly before her move to the neighbourhood. This move was a downsizing for her and she now remains alien to her neighbours... only leaving her home when her son comes to pick her up and take her back to where life doesn’t sit in a holding pattern.

For the most part, however, the rest of the neighbourhood is made up of boredom. However suburban boredom is the worst kind because the people don’t realize how mundane their lives are. Husbands and fathers put on cut off jean shorts that would be best served discarded. Instead, they spend hours in their driveway, hosing down the asphalt or wiping down the minivan... all the while bits of pocket spill out from underneath the denim which was cut a good three inches too short.

Women pluck at small stands of flowers, occasionally pulling their husbands away from the television long enough to get him to lug out a bag of soil. With a sigh, he returns to the innards of his house while she gently pats new soil underneath suburban shrubs.

The night brings out what little interesting bits that exist. And apart from a few teenagers who gather along the edges of greenspaces, smoking pot and keeping a suspicious eye on any passer by, the majority of that which is interesting isn’t even human.

Rabbits come out and hop along by those same shrubs the women were patting dirt around those few hours before. The women have no idea that the rabbits were ever there... they’re oblivious in their garden shows when the rabbits begin the invasion.

Skunks pass under windows on their way to open fields. Owls sit atop roofs in a lookout for a tasty critter. And over at the pond, muskrat and beaver swim around, busy with night.

However one of the homes hold dark originality. When others are sitting watching their sports on high def, this one stands in the darkness of a bedroom window, looking out. He is just as alien to his neighbours as the old husbandless woman is. Only where she carries sadness and the hope of her son’s arrival to carry her away, he holds anger and resentment.

A month before, he decided it was a good idea to discard his old summer tires at the curb for garbage day. He brought them out while the rest of the neighbourhood was sleeping and was pleased to be rid of the dirty clutter they created.

To his horror, the tires remained where he left them once all the other trash was taken away. And there they sit for weeks now. An eyesore that annoys the others of the area, they sit as a reminder to him. A reminder that society doesn’t accept him. Each time he looks out at the curb, he feels more isolated, more embarrassed, and more angry. If he goes to retrieve the tires, a neighbour will see. And then cold glances will come his way at the mailbox. Pond walkers will meet with their dogs, and while the animal drops smelly things that need to be plucked in plastic, the people will whisper about the guy who lives in the upper corner unit of the building across the street... how they saw him pulling tires into his front door and how they had a good mind to tell him what he should do with his tires.

Then they scoop the poop and continue around the pond, oblivious of the beaver and in love with the ducks.

So with such visions, the man leaves the tires where they lay. When he goes out at night, to wander the pond alone, he glares at the mound of dirty rubber and curses his misfortune.

One time, at the pond, he spots the white of a rabbit’s tale. He picks up a rock and hurls it towards the creature. To his horror, the rock strikes it’s target. A one in a million shot that drops the fluff where it stands. A few leg twitches spell the end.

The man doesn’t know what to do. First tires left to declare his stupidity to all and now a dead rabbit here at the pond.

Unable to think rationally, the man pulls out his pocket knife and crunches through the flesh and bone of the rabbit’s neck. He splays out the body on a rock. Leaving it there under the rose bushes as a sort of suburban sacrifice. And he pockets the head along with his knife. Returning home with a reminder of his continued bad luck.

Now from his bedroom window, the man can look out to still see the tires. They blare out to all like waving spotlights outside a cinema at a movie premier. Proclaiming how out of touch one is with the rest. And when he turns from his window, he looks to his bookshelf a the far wall. Where the fuzzy head sits with ears a gardening wife would stroke gently as she “aw’s” over the cute softness.

He curses himself for the rock and curses his bad luck that his aim was so perfect in the emotion of the moment.

Outside his window and here on his shelf sit reminders of how alone he is. Others walk dogs and spray the dirt from their driveways or spend the night watching high def sports or gardening shows. In this neighbourhood of sameness, he hides behind his door, only venturing out in the night for hopes that people don’t see his uniqueness. As he drifts off to sleep, his greatest wish is that he saw the world as they do. He longs to wake from his life and start living a dream.

Note:
Most of the things around this story are true. The tires, the jean shorts, the gardening, and yes the poor rabbit. The circumstances around the rabbit is a mystery to me.

Making It Up As I Go Along #345

SATURDAY...
— Saturday feeling like Monday all day long. Even as I get ready for bed I’m thinking it’s Monday night. This shift is mind blowing.
— Watch a movie after work with Melissa and Nick.
— I miss out on a nice condo downtown. I decided to put an offer on it but missed out by a matter of hours. The place was on the market for 12 days and I happen to go look at it and decide to make a bid the same day someone else does. It’s disappointing.

SUNDAY...
— Second dayshift. Not as quiet as yesterday but not a busy day either.
— Ball after work. We lose again. I get some hits and have some plays to make in the field, but many of my hits are weak and I’m tired of losing games to teams of stiffs. Tonight we lost to stiffs.

MONDAY...
— Sleep from 4:30 to 9:30 this morning... up for a while getting groceries and watching some TV... back in bed from 1:15 to 3:00. The sleep is working pretty well on these shift changes... so far.
— In to work for the night shift... it goes well. Sort of busy for a few hours, not busy at the end of the night. I do the gym around 12:30.
— Newfoundland is no longer a “have not Province” and now Ontario is! Craziness to see my home province make the leap. I guess no more stupid Newfie jokes... and bring on the Ontario ones! First one... What is there to do in Ontario other than drink? There... see how witty those Newfie jokes weren’t. Blah.

TUESDAY...
— Up just before noon. Warmer day today... it’s nice. And walking the pond I see the beaver is still at work. A good 7 to 10 trees were dropped since my last walk a week ago.

WEDNESDAY...
— Work last night was nasty busy... but I need some busy times to test myself. Phil and I take turns breaking for the gym. I go at 2:00 AM... and some guy shows up to jog on a tread mill... kinda weird.
— After work, I actually take a few minutes to walk the pond at 6:20 AM. It’s quiet and the muskrat are all over at that hour. Ducks are everywhere too. Lots more still here than I thought during the day.
— Obama is President. Should be an improvement by a great margin.
— Do an afternoon pond walk too. Didn’t sleep much this morning so I’m a zombie after supper.

THURSDAY...
— A home day. Watch some movies and not much else.

FRIDAY...
— Out for a few hours looking at condos. Not much comes of it... interesting but nothing that’s going to get an offer from me.
— Walk to the grocery store for a few things and get a pizza and salad in the evening and watch some more movies.


Have You Seen My Have Province? It’s About Yea Tall...
Don’t let Quebecers sway you... I come from the most unique province in the country. Quebec’s uniqueness is there, don’t get me wrong. And in many ways the Quebec and Newfoundland are similar in their uniqueness. But Quebec’s uniqueness is a bit of a lazy person’s version of unique. The most obvious trait of uniqueness is in Quebec’s favour... a different language.

And obvious works for the lazy man’s analysis. So the result is a Québécois “nation” and exaggerated importance for one province. Despite the fact that a small minority of the country are predominantly French speaking, the French language gets equal status. And it only takes a federal election to see how worried politicians are about gaining favour among the Quebecers.

The other interesting oddity around the Quebec issue is that language seems to signify a type of race. It’s politically incorrect to make fun of the French. A Quebec joke will get you into trouble pretty quickly around these parts. I’ve even heard talk of racism against Quebecers. A fairly over sensitive and outlandish proclamation.

The other province which shares the power of the Nation with Quebec is Ontario. Alberta is close, and in some ways it’s right there. But going back to a federal election, the areas that get the royal treatment from those looking for votes are Quebec and Ontario. A political leader who can gain the majority of seats in these two provinces is well on his or her way to winning the election.

So it strikes me funny to see the most powerful province in the country, a province that exudes supreme confidence among the group... the quarterback of the political football team known as Canada... Ontario... has become a have not province.

And guess who has passed Ontario in the rankings. Lowly ol’ Newfoundland. Going back to the football team analogy, this is like taking the quarterback out of the game and replacing him with one of the punt return special teams players.

Newfoundland is, in my experience here in Ontario, the most misunderstood and underappreciated province in the country. I even have friends who laugh and joke with me about Newfoundland’s patheticness. In their minds, Newfoundland is the likable province of yokels. The people of Newfoundland aren’t bright enough to have ideas. They’re too unsophisticated to breed leaders. And they’re too lazy to be counted on. They’re only really good for party entertainment. That guy who drinks too much and starts falling over the furniture... in the National party, that guy is the Newfie.

Too many times I’ve heard the same old stereotype of the drinking prowess of the Newfoundlander. After all, we must be good at drinking... what else is there to do in Newfoundland?

Most mainlanders who have never been to Newfoundland figure the only reason to go there is to party. Hit the bars... drink bad rum with a crazy name... kiss fish... and not understand a word anyone there says... that’s Newfoundland.

So this week, it did me some good to see the big and cocky Ontario being relegated as have not while the goofy Newfoundland joined the ranks of have.

To be honest, I don’t understand a thing of this have not versus have distinction. I still don’t think I could go home and get a job doing anything other than waiting tables for minimum wage and for twenty hours a week. And it still seems that Ontario’s unemployment isn’t skyrocketing (although I suppose the car manufacture industry would argue that point). But I love the irony of the situation. And I hope it clears the way for Newfoundland to get the respect and understanding it deserves.

I’d like to see an end to the Newfie joke. I know these jokes are usually told in good natured ribbing attitudes, but they’re a sign of the complete lack of knowledge people have about the place. They think of Newfie jokes when Newfoundland is brought up in the same way as the CN Tower or Maple Leafs come to mind when Toronto is mentioned.

The fact is, Newfoundland is completely unique. Cape Breton Island comes close to it. It’s the closest thing I’ve seen to Newfoundland without actually being there. But even Cape Breton doesn’t do it.

Newfoundland’s isolation brings part of the appeal. The fact that the province is cut off from the rest of the world brings it it’s uniqueness. There are times when you just can’t get to Newfoundland. Rough seas stop the ferries and winter storms or spring fog can keep out airplanes. Even a misplaced moose can keep you out of Newfoundland (a moose once got loose on the runways of St. John’s airport and couldn’t be corralled before the arriving planes had to be diverted back to Halifax). Newfoundland’s isolation makes it as specialized and unique as a village in the Amazon rainforest. From a people standpoint, Newfoundland is a little like the Galapagos Islands. The people there have been allowed to develop without many of the outside influences.

And it’s this same power of nature which isolates the island that also creates the uniqueness of the place. Family and friends take on an added importance to the Newfoundlander. After all, if the winter winds are howling with snow drifting up your door, it’s friends that come to dig you out. And before the storms, family gather in one place, to ride out the weather together with a pot of soup on the stove and winter boots against the heater, ready for the shoveling out that will soon follow. A fire in the fireplace and a deck of cards help pass the time between soup and shovel.

It’s not sophisticated... this image. But the assumption shouldn’t be made that it’s dumb either. It’s okay to accept time outs due to the weather. It keeps you humble as a person to know that sometimes you don’t have control. And the comradery that comes from shoveling out after a storm shows the generosity of the people. Only a few short decades ago, if you didn’t work in cooperation with your neighbours, you may not make it.

My wish is that being a have province will act as a catalyst for Newfoundland gaining respect on a national level. On a political level, Newfoundlander’s greatest qualities are sure needed. A little cooperation and humbleness on a federal level would go a long way.