Here is an interesting article on the potentially harmful effects of a well-intentioned idea to help look after the earth - biofuels.
And here is an article by Jared Diamond, the author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Guns, Germs, and Steel. He wants to convince you about another one of those things that is helping to destroy not the world, but the folks like us who live in it - agriculture.
Save the world. And yourself!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Apologies
I am really sorry. Yes, this blog has fallen apart lately. No deep thoughts, no ranting, not even any effort-free photos. I am sorry. The thing is, I am really busy these days. I didn't hide it when I started writing here - I was doing it because I had a lot of time on my hands. That didn't mean I didn't have anything to say, even less so now, but I just am not willing to put as much time into it anymore. I am busy with classes, flying, and way more studying than I ever had to do in University. This puts my free time at a premium. And, as you can see, I haven't put the blog at the top of the free-time priority list.
You know what IS at the top of that list? Well, apparently it is attending local parties, because I have done so every weekend, save one, since I have been here. And of what does a local party consist? Well, let me tell you of one of them, in the hopes that you can copy this party wherever you are.
In these parts, it is called a Tac Eval. Sounds very army-ish, doesn't it? It stands for "tactical evaluation," and is essentially an evaluation of a coworker's (or boss's) situational awareness, as well as hospitality. You have to make sure all of your collegues are "in the know" and willing to accompany you, or it just turns into one creepy dude hanging out on someone else's lawn. Get everyone together somewhere, ensuring you have all party ingredients on hard (beer, ice, lawn chairs, bbq, food and condiments, maybe even some sort of music production apparatus). You then move to the front lawn of the house of the person being evaluated. You set up your chairs, sit back and crack a cold beer, and start the clock. His score is amount of time it takes for him to a) realize you are there, and b) invite you into his home. Of course, he should also offer his own beer, his own food, and all the comforts of his home, since you have all been so nice as to come to his house to throw him a party.
We did this a couple of weeks ago to some guys on my course. They are Hungarian, and it almost seemed that they were a separate course. They didn't come out with us, and barely even talked with us. We sure showed them. We forced them to hang out with us. We also forced it on their girlfriends, who all came all the way from Hungary to be with these guys. So much for alone time!
So, although BBQ season is sadly coming to an end, I do believe you have at least a few more weeks to make it happen. I will be flying/learning/studying/partying from here.
You know what IS at the top of that list? Well, apparently it is attending local parties, because I have done so every weekend, save one, since I have been here. And of what does a local party consist? Well, let me tell you of one of them, in the hopes that you can copy this party wherever you are.
In these parts, it is called a Tac Eval. Sounds very army-ish, doesn't it? It stands for "tactical evaluation," and is essentially an evaluation of a coworker's (or boss's) situational awareness, as well as hospitality. You have to make sure all of your collegues are "in the know" and willing to accompany you, or it just turns into one creepy dude hanging out on someone else's lawn. Get everyone together somewhere, ensuring you have all party ingredients on hard (beer, ice, lawn chairs, bbq, food and condiments, maybe even some sort of music production apparatus). You then move to the front lawn of the house of the person being evaluated. You set up your chairs, sit back and crack a cold beer, and start the clock. His score is amount of time it takes for him to a) realize you are there, and b) invite you into his home. Of course, he should also offer his own beer, his own food, and all the comforts of his home, since you have all been so nice as to come to his house to throw him a party.
We did this a couple of weeks ago to some guys on my course. They are Hungarian, and it almost seemed that they were a separate course. They didn't come out with us, and barely even talked with us. We sure showed them. We forced them to hang out with us. We also forced it on their girlfriends, who all came all the way from Hungary to be with these guys. So much for alone time!
So, although BBQ season is sadly coming to an end, I do believe you have at least a few more weeks to make it happen. I will be flying/learning/studying/partying from here.
Friday, September 08, 2006
New things
Well. Almost done my 3rd week of ground school. This is tiring. Simulator training started this week. Here is what I noticed so far:
-My ejection seat is way fancier and more expensive than that office chair you have been bragging about. The cost ($75k or something like that) is not necessarily proportional to comfort.
-The atmosphere around here, where most of the students live in the same building and many eat together, is something like a university dorm. Except we get paid, and we actually study.
-Flying is some combination of art and science. The science part is knowing exactly what to do at a given time or to effectuate a given manoeuvre. The art is being able to move hands, feet, and fingers to make it happen.
-I'm not much of an artist
-My days would be about an hour shorter, and way less interesting, without instructors who have thousands of war stories to tell.
-The $12M simulators we fly in are cooler than Microsoft Flight Sim. But not THAT much cooler. I will stick with flight sim myself.
-Memorize your checks, and when you screw up the instructors won't notice as much.
And I haven't even started flying yet. That is on monday. Have a good weekend.
-My ejection seat is way fancier and more expensive than that office chair you have been bragging about. The cost ($75k or something like that) is not necessarily proportional to comfort.
-The atmosphere around here, where most of the students live in the same building and many eat together, is something like a university dorm. Except we get paid, and we actually study.
-Flying is some combination of art and science. The science part is knowing exactly what to do at a given time or to effectuate a given manoeuvre. The art is being able to move hands, feet, and fingers to make it happen.
-I'm not much of an artist
-My days would be about an hour shorter, and way less interesting, without instructors who have thousands of war stories to tell.
-The $12M simulators we fly in are cooler than Microsoft Flight Sim. But not THAT much cooler. I will stick with flight sim myself.
-Memorize your checks, and when you screw up the instructors won't notice as much.
And I haven't even started flying yet. That is on monday. Have a good weekend.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
PowerTunes
This post is inspired by Nike. Or more specifically, the new Nike+ system, where a little chip goes in your shoe and transmits info to your iPod whilst running. In this way you can always feel like you have an annoying fat coach right beside you yelling. You know, the kind that rides on his bike at a leisurely pace while you are killing yourself running. Like it always showed in Mike Tyson's PunchOut! Anyway, interesting system. I won't be buying it. But the part that is interesting is that, according to the ad I saw on the Nike website, when you are down to the last few minutes, or perhaps just the hardest portion of the run, you can cue up your "Power Song." I definitely know what they're talking about there. These are the songs that are somehow able to make your legs move faster, despite the fact that they were just ready to stop. They make your lungs heave, despite their best attempts to slow you down. They give the extra minute, or just the extra few seconds, that make the difference between a good run and just going for a jog. So I dedicate this post to my favourite power songs of all time, in order or awesomeness:
1) The First Drop - Rise Against
1) The Artist in the Ambulance - Thrice
1) Bullion - Millencolin
1) Injection - Rise Against
1) Drowning Lessons - My Chemical Romance
If you know what a power song is, and these songs are not part of your repertoire, you are making a horrible mistake. Of course, I am always open to suggestions. What is YOUR best power song?
1) The First Drop - Rise Against
1) The Artist in the Ambulance - Thrice
1) Bullion - Millencolin
1) Injection - Rise Against
1) Drowning Lessons - My Chemical Romance
If you know what a power song is, and these songs are not part of your repertoire, you are making a horrible mistake. Of course, I am always open to suggestions. What is YOUR best power song?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
ABBREVTN OVRLD
I am in ground school. And I have now learned why pilots make the big bucks. It's all about abbreviations and acronyms. Pilots get paid to know them all. Below is a short sampling from the classes I have taken so far:
In ACT class
- EAS is CAS corrected for PE and CE.
- It is good to have a RAT in case of BTB fail if you don't have an APU.
- JET-A with FSII is ok if JP-8 is not available.
In ADY class
- L/Dmax is the AOA where Tr and Pr are at a minimum.
- The CL can be increased by BLC.
- The FADEC is replacing MFCU these days.
- SFC is lowered by increasing TIT and lowering IOAT
- ROCmax for a jet is at L/D max
And my personal favourite,
In AOIs class
- The PMA is powered off the RGB
- The PMA powers the PMU, though the BAT BUS is backup, and if PMU fails the PIU will do it manually.
- The ADC supplies info to the EHSI, the EADI, and the EIDs.
- The EDM supplies the EIDs through the PMU
- The AHRS transfers to the AHRU, which is interpreted and displayed by the EFIS and recorded by the FRD in the IDARS.
- VOR1 and 2, ILS, as well as UHF and ModeA/C/S of the ATC transponder can be controlled through the RMU. DME too, if available.
I'm not even joking. I'm not adding anything there. This is all real. And there is a whole crapload more. But now, I know what...MOST of it means.
In ACT class
- EAS is CAS corrected for PE and CE.
- It is good to have a RAT in case of BTB fail if you don't have an APU.
- JET-A with FSII is ok if JP-8 is not available.
In ADY class
- L/Dmax is the AOA where Tr and Pr are at a minimum.
- The CL can be increased by BLC.
- The FADEC is replacing MFCU these days.
- SFC is lowered by increasing TIT and lowering IOAT
- ROCmax for a jet is at L/D max
And my personal favourite,
In AOIs class
- The PMA is powered off the RGB
- The PMA powers the PMU, though the BAT BUS is backup, and if PMU fails the PIU will do it manually.
- The ADC supplies info to the EHSI, the EADI, and the EIDs.
- The EDM supplies the EIDs through the PMU
- The AHRS transfers to the AHRU, which is interpreted and displayed by the EFIS and recorded by the FRD in the IDARS.
- VOR1 and 2, ILS, as well as UHF and ModeA/C/S of the ATC transponder can be controlled through the RMU. DME too, if available.
I'm not even joking. I'm not adding anything there. This is all real. And there is a whole crapload more. But now, I know what...MOST of it means.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
The battle over cake
There is a huge internal battle that has been going on everyday since I arrived at my new home. This battle only occurs in one building, and only at certain times. Three times per day, in fact. At the mess hall.
I pay a flat rate for food each month now. Whether or not that rate is too much...well, that is a different question. But the fact is that I do, and this entitles me to certain things at each meal of the day. I am entitled to a starch at each meal, be it hashbrowns, rice, boiled potatoes, or something of the sort. I am entitled to one main protien dish. Two vegetables at lunch and dinner, and a piece of fruit. If I have any entrée, I am not entitled to a large salad - only a small. But the thing is, I am entitled to a dessert at EVERY MEAL. Geez, just yesterday I saw a guy eating a nanaimo bar at breakfast. And these desserts are GOOD. I think they must order them in, because the food prepared in the kitchen there doesn't really compare. They have cheesecake. Pecan pie. Chocolate mousse cake. Apple crumble. Rolo cake. Cherry pie. White cake. Nanaimo bars. Ice cream. Carrot cake. Pudding. Brownies. Coconut bars. We're not talking just one thing at a meal, we're talking about a selection of five or more.
So here is where the conflict comes in: There are two parts of me, deeply ingrained in my personality, that I feel each time I see one of these desserts. First of all is the desire to be healthy. You don't have to go on my caveman diet to know that dessert is not healthy. Sugar. Saturated fat. Trans fat. It is hard to find any redeeming nutrition quality in these foods. Yeah, sure, apple pie has apples in it. That doesn't make it healthy. I have even been working extra hard lately to eat very well, and now this influence comes along.
The second part of me, in conflict with the desire to be healthy, is my need to be economical. Some people might even call me "cheap," though I would beg to differ. But really, I just feel the need to get the maximum value out of every dollar I spend. So if I can get a $4 piece of cake for nothing, don't you think I should take advantage of that? Because really, I would be cheating myself if I didn't! Think of when I am out of here and have to pay for that myself! That is just ridiculous, when I could stock up now at no extra charge. When I take that piece of fruit, that is only worth $0.65. A full size nanaimo bar is worth $3.50. And costs me nothing! And they say eating healthy is expensive.
Yes, I realize that it just might be lame to eat chocolate cake for economical reasons.
Of course, the economical part of me has a very strong ally. He is called deliciousness. Because we allllll know how delicious dessert is.
So far, I have resisted. Out of 28 meals, I have had only one dessert - an enourmous piece of moist yet rich chocolate cake. With chocolate icing. And chocolate shavings on top. Capped off with chocolate drizzle. Hey, if you're going to go, don't go half-way. But my inner beliefs continue to batter each other at every meal.
Come onnnnnnn, Healthymatt.
I pay a flat rate for food each month now. Whether or not that rate is too much...well, that is a different question. But the fact is that I do, and this entitles me to certain things at each meal of the day. I am entitled to a starch at each meal, be it hashbrowns, rice, boiled potatoes, or something of the sort. I am entitled to one main protien dish. Two vegetables at lunch and dinner, and a piece of fruit. If I have any entrée, I am not entitled to a large salad - only a small. But the thing is, I am entitled to a dessert at EVERY MEAL. Geez, just yesterday I saw a guy eating a nanaimo bar at breakfast. And these desserts are GOOD. I think they must order them in, because the food prepared in the kitchen there doesn't really compare. They have cheesecake. Pecan pie. Chocolate mousse cake. Apple crumble. Rolo cake. Cherry pie. White cake. Nanaimo bars. Ice cream. Carrot cake. Pudding. Brownies. Coconut bars. We're not talking just one thing at a meal, we're talking about a selection of five or more.
So here is where the conflict comes in: There are two parts of me, deeply ingrained in my personality, that I feel each time I see one of these desserts. First of all is the desire to be healthy. You don't have to go on my caveman diet to know that dessert is not healthy. Sugar. Saturated fat. Trans fat. It is hard to find any redeeming nutrition quality in these foods. Yeah, sure, apple pie has apples in it. That doesn't make it healthy. I have even been working extra hard lately to eat very well, and now this influence comes along.
The second part of me, in conflict with the desire to be healthy, is my need to be economical. Some people might even call me "cheap," though I would beg to differ. But really, I just feel the need to get the maximum value out of every dollar I spend. So if I can get a $4 piece of cake for nothing, don't you think I should take advantage of that? Because really, I would be cheating myself if I didn't! Think of when I am out of here and have to pay for that myself! That is just ridiculous, when I could stock up now at no extra charge. When I take that piece of fruit, that is only worth $0.65. A full size nanaimo bar is worth $3.50. And costs me nothing! And they say eating healthy is expensive.
Yes, I realize that it just might be lame to eat chocolate cake for economical reasons.
Of course, the economical part of me has a very strong ally. He is called deliciousness. Because we allllll know how delicious dessert is.
So far, I have resisted. Out of 28 meals, I have had only one dessert - an enourmous piece of moist yet rich chocolate cake. With chocolate icing. And chocolate shavings on top. Capped off with chocolate drizzle. Hey, if you're going to go, don't go half-way. But my inner beliefs continue to batter each other at every meal.
Come onnnnnnn, Healthymatt.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Motivation
Well, here I am. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Everything I ever wanted, almost. I have a nice place to live, decent food to eat, lots of friends here, and I am actually advancing my career/life now. Same goes for all the other trainees. So everyone should be happy, right?
Ha.
No.
There is way too much stress here for people to be happy. The only really happy guy I have talked to, not including the other guys on my course who just got here, was someone who finished his course last week. And this is the story another guy told about him:
"Andrew wasn't like this until Friday, you know. For 8 months, he was miserable. I went into his room a few months ago to ask him how things were on the course, since I was only a couple months into it and was not having a good time with it. 'Well, man,' he said, 'prepare yourself, because it doesn't get any better.' It wasn't very inspiring. I wasn't very motivated." No kidding. And that is all I have heard since I arrived. One guy today said he told his instructor he had to get a haircut, so he didn't have to fly. Everyone, all 80 or 90 of the other people who are on the courses ahead of me, just can't wait to be finished and out of here. Yet I haven't even STARTED GROUND SCHOOL yet, never mind being close to finishing the course. Yeesh.
GAFF remains high. Motivation high. Let's see how long I can hold that.
Ha.
No.
There is way too much stress here for people to be happy. The only really happy guy I have talked to, not including the other guys on my course who just got here, was someone who finished his course last week. And this is the story another guy told about him:
"Andrew wasn't like this until Friday, you know. For 8 months, he was miserable. I went into his room a few months ago to ask him how things were on the course, since I was only a couple months into it and was not having a good time with it. 'Well, man,' he said, 'prepare yourself, because it doesn't get any better.' It wasn't very inspiring. I wasn't very motivated." No kidding. And that is all I have heard since I arrived. One guy today said he told his instructor he had to get a haircut, so he didn't have to fly. Everyone, all 80 or 90 of the other people who are on the courses ahead of me, just can't wait to be finished and out of here. Yet I haven't even STARTED GROUND SCHOOL yet, never mind being close to finishing the course. Yeesh.
GAFF remains high. Motivation high. Let's see how long I can hold that.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Cross your t's
I correct people's grammar. I correct spelling. I correct punctuation. I most definitely tell then when a word they are using doesn't make any sense in the way they are using it. I do it because I wouldn't want the message to be confused or misinterpreted.
This pisses people off. It REALLY pisses off some people. "You know what I mean," say some. "F*** you, you a**hole, leave me alone," say others.
I feel better about it today, however. According to this story, Rogers is going to lose over 2 million dollars due to the misuse of a comma. Yes, a comma, that most basic of punctuation marks, was placed where, apparently...something else should have been placed. They made a deal to lock in the price for using utility poles in the Maritimes to string their cable lines. Now Aliant, with whom they made the deal, has cancelled it and the rates are going up. If you read the sentence in question in the contract, it seems very obvious to me that this deal could be cancelled:
This pisses people off. It REALLY pisses off some people. "You know what I mean," say some. "F*** you, you a**hole, leave me alone," say others.
I feel better about it today, however. According to this story, Rogers is going to lose over 2 million dollars due to the misuse of a comma. Yes, a comma, that most basic of punctuation marks, was placed where, apparently...something else should have been placed. They made a deal to lock in the price for using utility poles in the Maritimes to string their cable lines. Now Aliant, with whom they made the deal, has cancelled it and the rates are going up. If you read the sentence in question in the contract, it seems very obvious to me that this deal could be cancelled:
"The agreement 'shall continue in force for a period of five years from the date it is made, and thereafter for successive five year terms, unless and until terminated by one year prior notice in writing by either party.'”When there are two commas in a sentence, the third clause refers to the first. They intended the contract to be in force for five years, with the option of a cancellation thereafter with one year's notice. Too bad, Rogers. Send those lawyers back to school.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
My new home
I finally did it. I finally made it out of Winnipeg. For good. Ok, at least for a while. I am the newest resident of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. For those of you who don't know where that is...well, you probably don't care, either. But as far as I know, there haven't been any hate-songs written about my new home, so I will take it. My new place even has 3 rooms, instead of one. That's right, I don't have to walk down the hall to the bathroom anymore. Simple things keep me happy.
As for Winnipeg...I still detest you. I found an awesome restaurant on my last night there, and that may be the best part of the entire city. I guess I shouldn't rant too much about the city, though. In addition to the fact that I have already done that, I will more than likely be back in Manitoba within a year, and probably back in Winnipeg before too many years. But if there is one picture that makes me think of Winnipeg, it is this one. That is Blue Bombers' kicker Troy Westwood. Trying to defend Winnipeg, as Winnipeggers often have to do. Because the rest of the country knows that the place sucks.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Nice blog, no-blog
Ok ok, so I haven't updated in a while. I WAS BUSY, OK? And busy in this case means "On vacation." Here are no stories, and a few pics of good times...
Columbia Icefield
Floaties at Shushwap
Moves on the boat
Good times on the beach
A brewski at the 6km mark of the hike
Good summer times
Columbia Icefield
Floaties at Shushwap
Moves on the boat
Good times on the beach
A brewski at the 6km mark of the hike
Good summer timesTuesday, July 04, 2006
Survived
Yes, I am alive and well, back from my survival course in the horrible swamps of eastern Manitoba. I could tell you all about it, chronilogical-like, but instead I will tell you in a different way. I will tell you all the things I realized, sitting on the bus on the way back from the course, that I should be more thankful for. In general order of importance:
1) A BUG-FREE ENVIRONMENT - Sure, there is the odd spider in the basement. I get a few mosquito bites if I hang out outside long enough in the summer, or go golfing at the crappy course by my place in Winnipeg. But that doesn't even begin to compare with the bugs I was putting up with last week. They were absolutely ridiculous. They even gave us some special spray to soak our clothes with (for which we had to sign a waiver due to health concerns), and I still got eaten alive. I had the gortex cover for my sleeping bag completely closed around me except for a breathing hole of about 3 inches across. Into that hole I put my insect headnet to block any intruders. They still made it into my sleeping bag, and bit my face enough that my lips were swollen and my right eye swelled completely shut after one night. Worst. But there were actually people in worse circumstances than me. If I hung out right next to the lake and away from the woods, there was a bit of a wind to keep the bugs away. Guys on the opposite shore were actually wearing their rain coats and rain pants all day because the bugs can't bite through them (it was 28 and sunny).
2) PEOPLE TO TALK TO - For the last 48 hours, I was all alone. The extent of my interaction was an instructor coming along, once each day for about 1 minute, to make sure my shelter was up, snares were out, that sort of thing. You can get pretty bored all alone like that, let me tell you. Kind of start to go crazy, even. Going through crappy situations, with someone else doing the same thing, and being able to talk about it...that is much preferred.
3) FOOD - That's right, I had 6 jujubes and 4 little packs of juice mix to last me 2 days. That obviously doesn't fill you up, but you sure do learn to enjoy every little morsel of food. For the first 7 days I had two meals per day, and that definitely got me started getting hungry. I would beg for the little tubes of peanut butter out of the ration packs (since it was about the only thing that wasn't all sugar), and some guys raided the garage where they stored the food and liberated a few meals. As for the final part when I was alone with my jujubes, I ate them in about 10 bites each, even though they were only about 2 inches long. The only fish I got was about 4 inches long, and supplied maybe a gram of protein. I was starting to get a bit light-headed whenever I stood up, and I was tripping over tree roots and rocks when walking around. On the way back we stopped at Chicken Chef, and the guy next to me ordered a large poutine and a pizza. Apparently he missed food, too.
4) AVAILABLE WATER - Overall, this wasn't really a big deal. We weren't given any water and there weren't any taps or anything, but we could go down to the lake to get it, and we had tabs and water pumps to filter it. However, on the day where we were doing navigation, it was 4 of us out in the middle of the crappy Manitoba swamp, and we ran out of water. We were just walking through this crap all day and it was at least 25 degrees or so, and almost 100% humidity. Lucky for that last point, because when it started to rain, we unfolded our waterproofed maps and made them all like funnels into a cup so we could have something to drink. We were getting pretty desparate there.
5) A PLACE TO SIT - All I had was a flat rock. Flat rocks aren't comfortable for sitting on. Or for laying on, for that matter. I definitely thought of this one while I was sitting on the soft cushy bus seat, it definitely struck the contrast.
But hey, I'm alive, and back to civilization. And I am sure I will soon be complaining that my food is too cold or that there is a fly in the house or that the water tastes bad or that my back hurts because this chair is so soft. How quickly I forget.
1) A BUG-FREE ENVIRONMENT - Sure, there is the odd spider in the basement. I get a few mosquito bites if I hang out outside long enough in the summer, or go golfing at the crappy course by my place in Winnipeg. But that doesn't even begin to compare with the bugs I was putting up with last week. They were absolutely ridiculous. They even gave us some special spray to soak our clothes with (for which we had to sign a waiver due to health concerns), and I still got eaten alive. I had the gortex cover for my sleeping bag completely closed around me except for a breathing hole of about 3 inches across. Into that hole I put my insect headnet to block any intruders. They still made it into my sleeping bag, and bit my face enough that my lips were swollen and my right eye swelled completely shut after one night. Worst. But there were actually people in worse circumstances than me. If I hung out right next to the lake and away from the woods, there was a bit of a wind to keep the bugs away. Guys on the opposite shore were actually wearing their rain coats and rain pants all day because the bugs can't bite through them (it was 28 and sunny).
2) PEOPLE TO TALK TO - For the last 48 hours, I was all alone. The extent of my interaction was an instructor coming along, once each day for about 1 minute, to make sure my shelter was up, snares were out, that sort of thing. You can get pretty bored all alone like that, let me tell you. Kind of start to go crazy, even. Going through crappy situations, with someone else doing the same thing, and being able to talk about it...that is much preferred.
3) FOOD - That's right, I had 6 jujubes and 4 little packs of juice mix to last me 2 days. That obviously doesn't fill you up, but you sure do learn to enjoy every little morsel of food. For the first 7 days I had two meals per day, and that definitely got me started getting hungry. I would beg for the little tubes of peanut butter out of the ration packs (since it was about the only thing that wasn't all sugar), and some guys raided the garage where they stored the food and liberated a few meals. As for the final part when I was alone with my jujubes, I ate them in about 10 bites each, even though they were only about 2 inches long. The only fish I got was about 4 inches long, and supplied maybe a gram of protein. I was starting to get a bit light-headed whenever I stood up, and I was tripping over tree roots and rocks when walking around. On the way back we stopped at Chicken Chef, and the guy next to me ordered a large poutine and a pizza. Apparently he missed food, too.
4) AVAILABLE WATER - Overall, this wasn't really a big deal. We weren't given any water and there weren't any taps or anything, but we could go down to the lake to get it, and we had tabs and water pumps to filter it. However, on the day where we were doing navigation, it was 4 of us out in the middle of the crappy Manitoba swamp, and we ran out of water. We were just walking through this crap all day and it was at least 25 degrees or so, and almost 100% humidity. Lucky for that last point, because when it started to rain, we unfolded our waterproofed maps and made them all like funnels into a cup so we could have something to drink. We were getting pretty desparate there.
5) A PLACE TO SIT - All I had was a flat rock. Flat rocks aren't comfortable for sitting on. Or for laying on, for that matter. I definitely thought of this one while I was sitting on the soft cushy bus seat, it definitely struck the contrast.
But hey, I'm alive, and back to civilization. And I am sure I will soon be complaining that my food is too cold or that there is a fly in the house or that the water tastes bad or that my back hurts because this chair is so soft. How quickly I forget.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Activity
I haven't been very active in updating this blog lately. Well, that is likely to continue since I will be out in the bush for the next 9 days. I will post something about my trip when I get back.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Bad medic
In other, way more hilarious news, I was getting my annual medical done today. That includes a 10-lead EKG, which puts 2 little sticky leads on my calves, 2 on my arms, and 6 on my chest. The medic was having trouble getting a good reading because my chest hair was pushing them away from my skin. And I quote:
"Geez man, I've had geriatrics with congenital heart failure, and I've never had this much difficulty getting a reading. I don't know if I should shave you or throw you a friggin' banana."
Bad blog
Yep, you're right. This blog fell off. Two weeks without a post. As an excuse, I had my final exams for my french course. That didn't mean that I had any less free time, but it is all I have as an excuse.
On that subject, someone in The Public Service of Canada made quite the mistake in assessing my level of french. There were two paper tests, one for comprehension and the other for grammar. Then there is an intervew by telephone with some overpaid civil servant in Ottawa. Usually it lasts between 30 and 45 minutes, in which they feel they can assess the candidate's level of french comprehension and production. Well, my interview lasted 40 minutes, but apparently that is not long enough. It was not long enough for her to determine that my vocabulary is extremely limited and that I have to take way too many breaks to think of the right word to use next. Because I got as high of a score as is possible. This means that I will never - EVER - have to take another french course, nor french test, for the rest of my career. 30 years from now, I could get sent to a francophone position in Quebec or Ottawa, and they would fully expect that I am fluent in the language. Even if I hadn't used it for any of those 30 years.
The first impression was, "Awesome, I got the highest mark, now I won't have to use up career time in the future taking more courses and tests."
The second impression was, "Holy crap, they really think I know how to speak french. There is something seriously wrong with that test. Suckers."
Finally, "Uh no. They are really going to EXPECT that I can speak french now."
I guess it is now up to me to keep speaking french. I know none of YOU are going to support that; in fact, I am sure I would be the subject of much verbal and physical abuse if I tried to speak it around you. But I will have to do it somehow.
"With great power, comes great responsibility." I guess I'm kind of like Spiderman like that. A really slow, french-speaking Spiderman who can't leap tall buildings in a single bound.
On that subject, someone in The Public Service of Canada made quite the mistake in assessing my level of french. There were two paper tests, one for comprehension and the other for grammar. Then there is an intervew by telephone with some overpaid civil servant in Ottawa. Usually it lasts between 30 and 45 minutes, in which they feel they can assess the candidate's level of french comprehension and production. Well, my interview lasted 40 minutes, but apparently that is not long enough. It was not long enough for her to determine that my vocabulary is extremely limited and that I have to take way too many breaks to think of the right word to use next. Because I got as high of a score as is possible. This means that I will never - EVER - have to take another french course, nor french test, for the rest of my career. 30 years from now, I could get sent to a francophone position in Quebec or Ottawa, and they would fully expect that I am fluent in the language. Even if I hadn't used it for any of those 30 years.
The first impression was, "Awesome, I got the highest mark, now I won't have to use up career time in the future taking more courses and tests."
The second impression was, "Holy crap, they really think I know how to speak french. There is something seriously wrong with that test. Suckers."
Finally, "Uh no. They are really going to EXPECT that I can speak french now."
I guess it is now up to me to keep speaking french. I know none of YOU are going to support that; in fact, I am sure I would be the subject of much verbal and physical abuse if I tried to speak it around you. But I will have to do it somehow.
"With great power, comes great responsibility." I guess I'm kind of like Spiderman like that. A really slow, french-speaking Spiderman who can't leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
On Sport
Check out this link, from the Oilers' game on Thursday. Sixteen thousand people singing O Canada together - I wonder when was the last time THAT happened. I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Ron McLean knew how I was feeling when he said, "That, like all the things we love, never gets old."
But then I reflected on it, for just a moment, from another point of view. Where these people really singing because they are proud Canadians? A number of them, probably. But I would say that most of them are singing because they are Oilers fans, and they think this shows how great of fans they are. Personally, I don't need the Stanley Cup playoffs to inspire me to show respect for my country and its anthem.
Fortunately, I didn't stop thinking about it after that. And I actually came to a conclusion, rather than my too-often fallback position of fence-sitting.
This is far from the worst example of patriotism and pride - it is, rather, one of the best examples of the power of the good in sport.
We had a rough relationship for a while there, sport and I. When I got to university, I almost totally stopped playing team sports. Instead, I had to study it. I had classes in sport physiology. Sport ethics. Sociology of sport. Psychology of sport. Sport Administration. Sport injury, sport rehabilitation, sport history, and a whole schedule of others. I got pretty pissed off with sports in general, and I would try to avoid studying them any more than I had to. I even somehow got away with writing about the potlach for my sport history class; I guess that falls under the "sport and leisure" category. Anyway, having finished my classes and done what I thought was the more honourable thing to do in the field (working with the injured in the general population, rather than spoiled athletes), I found through my horrible disappointment in that field that there may be something good to sports - namely, motivation. While not forgetting this, it was soon overshadowed by the NHL lockout, which, according to my somewhat jaded view at the time, pitted a bunch of whiny millionaires against a bunch of whiny millionaires.
Luckily for me, and for everyone as far as I'm concerned, sport keeps coming back. Though sometimes you can get some of the positive effects of sport without the organization (as I have previously written), I must admit that nothing can compare to sport. Any sport.
What else is there in the world that makes me, alone in my room, jump off my bed screaming, pumping my arms in the air? Because some guy I have never met, putting a little piece of rubber behind another guy, 1000 miles away from me, has caused that reaction. Wearing the same jersey in a sports bar makes you automatic friends. Wanting to maintain the fitness to play will motivate people to eat just about anything, and do a ridiculous amount of preparation hardly rivalled by any other professional.
Yes, Sport can sometimes motivate too much. And sometimes the fans look past the reason for the competition.
And yet, it is still athletes who have to power to unite millions (I have never met as many Oilers fans outside of Edmonton as I have in the past few weeks). Sport provides inspiration for a child. If two people meet, having never met before, and they find that they both love to golf, they might as well have been friends for years by the sudden connection they can make. Sport can make participant and fan alike cry. It can give smiles. It gives broken bones and scrapes and sprains, and the athletes love to talk of these battle scars. Two participants, or two fans, can be going at each other for hours and still have the highest respect for the other. Taking on challenges and defeats in sport prepares those who know them for challenges in all other aspects of life. And the feeling - the feeling of competition; the hard hits; the big throw; the sacrifice for the team; and maybe, if you have worked hard enough and everything falls into place, the victory - it is unbeatable.
We're ok again, sport and I.
But then I reflected on it, for just a moment, from another point of view. Where these people really singing because they are proud Canadians? A number of them, probably. But I would say that most of them are singing because they are Oilers fans, and they think this shows how great of fans they are. Personally, I don't need the Stanley Cup playoffs to inspire me to show respect for my country and its anthem.
Fortunately, I didn't stop thinking about it after that. And I actually came to a conclusion, rather than my too-often fallback position of fence-sitting.
This is far from the worst example of patriotism and pride - it is, rather, one of the best examples of the power of the good in sport.
We had a rough relationship for a while there, sport and I. When I got to university, I almost totally stopped playing team sports. Instead, I had to study it. I had classes in sport physiology. Sport ethics. Sociology of sport. Psychology of sport. Sport Administration. Sport injury, sport rehabilitation, sport history, and a whole schedule of others. I got pretty pissed off with sports in general, and I would try to avoid studying them any more than I had to. I even somehow got away with writing about the potlach for my sport history class; I guess that falls under the "sport and leisure" category. Anyway, having finished my classes and done what I thought was the more honourable thing to do in the field (working with the injured in the general population, rather than spoiled athletes), I found through my horrible disappointment in that field that there may be something good to sports - namely, motivation. While not forgetting this, it was soon overshadowed by the NHL lockout, which, according to my somewhat jaded view at the time, pitted a bunch of whiny millionaires against a bunch of whiny millionaires.
Luckily for me, and for everyone as far as I'm concerned, sport keeps coming back. Though sometimes you can get some of the positive effects of sport without the organization (as I have previously written), I must admit that nothing can compare to sport. Any sport.
What else is there in the world that makes me, alone in my room, jump off my bed screaming, pumping my arms in the air? Because some guy I have never met, putting a little piece of rubber behind another guy, 1000 miles away from me, has caused that reaction. Wearing the same jersey in a sports bar makes you automatic friends. Wanting to maintain the fitness to play will motivate people to eat just about anything, and do a ridiculous amount of preparation hardly rivalled by any other professional.
Yes, Sport can sometimes motivate too much. And sometimes the fans look past the reason for the competition.
And yet, it is still athletes who have to power to unite millions (I have never met as many Oilers fans outside of Edmonton as I have in the past few weeks). Sport provides inspiration for a child. If two people meet, having never met before, and they find that they both love to golf, they might as well have been friends for years by the sudden connection they can make. Sport can make participant and fan alike cry. It can give smiles. It gives broken bones and scrapes and sprains, and the athletes love to talk of these battle scars. Two participants, or two fans, can be going at each other for hours and still have the highest respect for the other. Taking on challenges and defeats in sport prepares those who know them for challenges in all other aspects of life. And the feeling - the feeling of competition; the hard hits; the big throw; the sacrifice for the team; and maybe, if you have worked hard enough and everything falls into place, the victory - it is unbeatable.
We're ok again, sport and I.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
I'm famous
The other day, I was shown this magazine:
Now, I am not normally one to read its lies and misleading stories, but apparently...someone wrote in about me. For background see this previous post, number 1. Yeah.
Now, I am not normally one to read its lies and misleading stories, but apparently...someone wrote in about me. For background see this previous post, number 1. Yeah.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
The best job in the world
I was walking through a park yesterday. It is one of those parks where people drive their pimped out corvettes and cruisers, as well as their '04 Sunbirds with huge spoilers, around in circles for no particular reason. And what I decided during this time was that something was missing. None of these cars were doing it for me. They all looked rather ridiculous. Big and bulky. The side mirrors looking like little underdeveloped stubs sticking out to the side. Everything pretty much rectangular. Everything so heavy. I guess that's why I don't care too much if I drive a "cute" truck with an old-man canopy, because they all generally look the same to me. I don't know why.
Then I went to a movie last night, and I realized why. Because cars ARE slow and bulky and cumbersome. Compared to fighter planes.
I went to see Fighter Pilot at IMAX. Check out a quick trailer here. It was awesome. All of those planes and helicopters look pretty cumbersome and ungainly on the ground too. With their peg-leg landing gear and strange looking control surfaces moving around, they can't do much better than a car. But put any one of those aircraft in flight, and...wow, that is how machines should move. The engines are roaring, but the moves look effortless. No longer confined to 3 dimensions. The bulkiest transport plane up there has more grace than the sleekest sports car on the road, and the slowest helicopter looks smoother than a luxury sedan. Then there were at least 7 different fighters planes, the most powerful things in the sky. I could watch those things move all day.
Until I can get in one. Three more months. I can't wait to get up there again.
Note: No, I won't be flying one of those
Then I went to a movie last night, and I realized why. Because cars ARE slow and bulky and cumbersome. Compared to fighter planes.
I went to see Fighter Pilot at IMAX. Check out a quick trailer here. It was awesome. All of those planes and helicopters look pretty cumbersome and ungainly on the ground too. With their peg-leg landing gear and strange looking control surfaces moving around, they can't do much better than a car. But put any one of those aircraft in flight, and...wow, that is how machines should move. The engines are roaring, but the moves look effortless. No longer confined to 3 dimensions. The bulkiest transport plane up there has more grace than the sleekest sports car on the road, and the slowest helicopter looks smoother than a luxury sedan. Then there were at least 7 different fighters planes, the most powerful things in the sky. I could watch those things move all day.
Until I can get in one. Three more months. I can't wait to get up there again.
Note: No, I won't be flying one of those
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Prairie Hot Spots
I had a free weekend. My buddy from here in Winnipeg and I decided we should go meet up with our friends that have moved away. So where would we meet? Why, in the number one party place on the Prairies - Regina, of course.
I unfortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view) didn't get any pictures of our escapades. Therefore, I will have to describe them.
We took the guy's girlfriend's sweet grocery-getting Vibe at 150km/h down the Transcanada to arrive at the hotel by 8pm. The others arrived minutes later, and together we started off the festivities by dining on a few liquid barley sandwiches. Deciding to go to the "cool" Regina bar, the Pump, we set off on foot. A stop at MacDonald's was necessary, where everyone else added to their caloric intake by wolfing down a couple double cheeseburgers each. We made it to the bar to find, much to our surprise, a ridiculously long lineup. In Regina? Seriously, nobody even likes this place, why is the lineup so long? And there weren't even very many cowboy hats. How disappointing. So after waiting for an hour and moving up to a position very near the door, we decided we should go to another bar. The wait in line was highlighted by some drunk guy getting thrown out and yelling at the bouncer, "DO YOU THINK YOU'RE FAT? HUH? YOU THINK YOU'RE FAT OR SOMETHING?" Ha. Yes, I'm sure that is what he thinks.
We get to the other bar. This is more like what I had in mind for Regina. There is a hot chicken finger-eating contest, a really bad local band playing AC/DC, and some dude walking around with a Viagra skidoo jacket on. After many drinks and some of the guys wanting to fight, we took a taxi to yet another bar. The taxi ride was highlighted by the passengers giving advice to each other on various ways to avoid fathering a child. "Rusty coat hanger!" "Sex her, and then WAM punch her in the stomach!" Gross. I'm sure the taxi driver was impressed. And after all that, he yelled at ME. For closing the window.
And after that, we went back to the oringinal bar. We found it very easy to get in. Just use the "out" door. Near the end of the night, the beer-tub girl was trying to get rid of her beer, so we got 15 bottles for $25. Not bad. Leaving the bar, the seven of us approached one pair of girls. One of the guys said, "Oh man, I'm so wasted, we've been doing coke all day, man!" The girls didn't like that. They started to run. One of the guys ran after them at a full sprint. Those girls ran pretty fast in heels.
It was at this time that we decided we needed Burger King. Tried to go through the drive-thru, without car. No luck. I guess the kid working had served these guys before, and almost lost his job. He suggested we try the MacD's. So that's what we did. Can you imagine 4 grown men jumping up and down on a magnetic sensor, trying to get it to activate so an order could be placed? Believe it or not, that doesn't create a magnetic field of any sort. Anyway, we got in formation like we were in a car, and followed the other cars forward. One guy had his hands on the imaginary steering wheel. Another kept on rolling down the imaginary window and yelling at another guy who was standing on the grass. "GET IN THE CAR, KYLE! GET BACK IN HERE RIGHT NOW." A guy from a car in front of us came back and told us that he was a cop, and that there were police cars already on the way. I guess it is illegal to stand in line. He advised us to leave. We didn't listen. It was about this time that the 14 year-old kid in the window started yelling at us and telling us to leave. We claimed we just wanted food. He said he couldn't give us any. We said we had money and they had food, and we just wanted to make an exchange. He said we needed a car. We said we were drunk. He asked if we had money. We said yes. He told us we should put our money together and buy a car. Smartass. So one guy starts yelling demeaning things at him, and we know we're not getting burgers. So we start to leave.
Just then, some kids who had been watching from nearby got off their bikes. And pulled out a firecracker.
One guy put it on his shoulder and aimed. The other guy lit it.
And the firecracker went flying. Directly through the drive-thru window and into the MacDonald's.
Now THAT is more like the Regina I imagined.
I unfortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view) didn't get any pictures of our escapades. Therefore, I will have to describe them.
We took the guy's girlfriend's sweet grocery-getting Vibe at 150km/h down the Transcanada to arrive at the hotel by 8pm. The others arrived minutes later, and together we started off the festivities by dining on a few liquid barley sandwiches. Deciding to go to the "cool" Regina bar, the Pump, we set off on foot. A stop at MacDonald's was necessary, where everyone else added to their caloric intake by wolfing down a couple double cheeseburgers each. We made it to the bar to find, much to our surprise, a ridiculously long lineup. In Regina? Seriously, nobody even likes this place, why is the lineup so long? And there weren't even very many cowboy hats. How disappointing. So after waiting for an hour and moving up to a position very near the door, we decided we should go to another bar. The wait in line was highlighted by some drunk guy getting thrown out and yelling at the bouncer, "DO YOU THINK YOU'RE FAT? HUH? YOU THINK YOU'RE FAT OR SOMETHING?" Ha. Yes, I'm sure that is what he thinks.
We get to the other bar. This is more like what I had in mind for Regina. There is a hot chicken finger-eating contest, a really bad local band playing AC/DC, and some dude walking around with a Viagra skidoo jacket on. After many drinks and some of the guys wanting to fight, we took a taxi to yet another bar. The taxi ride was highlighted by the passengers giving advice to each other on various ways to avoid fathering a child. "Rusty coat hanger!" "Sex her, and then WAM punch her in the stomach!" Gross. I'm sure the taxi driver was impressed. And after all that, he yelled at ME. For closing the window.
And after that, we went back to the oringinal bar. We found it very easy to get in. Just use the "out" door. Near the end of the night, the beer-tub girl was trying to get rid of her beer, so we got 15 bottles for $25. Not bad. Leaving the bar, the seven of us approached one pair of girls. One of the guys said, "Oh man, I'm so wasted, we've been doing coke all day, man!" The girls didn't like that. They started to run. One of the guys ran after them at a full sprint. Those girls ran pretty fast in heels.
It was at this time that we decided we needed Burger King. Tried to go through the drive-thru, without car. No luck. I guess the kid working had served these guys before, and almost lost his job. He suggested we try the MacD's. So that's what we did. Can you imagine 4 grown men jumping up and down on a magnetic sensor, trying to get it to activate so an order could be placed? Believe it or not, that doesn't create a magnetic field of any sort. Anyway, we got in formation like we were in a car, and followed the other cars forward. One guy had his hands on the imaginary steering wheel. Another kept on rolling down the imaginary window and yelling at another guy who was standing on the grass. "GET IN THE CAR, KYLE! GET BACK IN HERE RIGHT NOW." A guy from a car in front of us came back and told us that he was a cop, and that there were police cars already on the way. I guess it is illegal to stand in line. He advised us to leave. We didn't listen. It was about this time that the 14 year-old kid in the window started yelling at us and telling us to leave. We claimed we just wanted food. He said he couldn't give us any. We said we had money and they had food, and we just wanted to make an exchange. He said we needed a car. We said we were drunk. He asked if we had money. We said yes. He told us we should put our money together and buy a car. Smartass. So one guy starts yelling demeaning things at him, and we know we're not getting burgers. So we start to leave.
Just then, some kids who had been watching from nearby got off their bikes. And pulled out a firecracker.
One guy put it on his shoulder and aimed. The other guy lit it.
And the firecracker went flying. Directly through the drive-thru window and into the MacDonald's.
Now THAT is more like the Regina I imagined.
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