When I was in my final semester of my final year of university, I just about lost it. I had just had enough of the educational system, of being poor and hungry, and of being an extraneous member of society. I was becoming miserable, and letting myself sink into a mire of sticky black badness.

A professor who noticed my decline (and cared) gave me this quote, printed on a card with a photo of light streaming brightly through a window into a dark room:

“The soul is dyed the colour of its thoughts. Day by day, what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny – it is the light that guides your way.”

-Heraclitus

I still keep this quote with me, posted up beside me at any work station I happen to be working at. It helps me to remember that if I want to be a good person, (or a happy person, or a fulfilled person) I have to act like one, everyday. It’s that simple.

Thank you, Byron Johnston. That card has made a world of difference to me.

I've been back at A-1 Pallet for this week... with the slow economy, it looks as though the job won't continue, but really, it's just the boot in the butt I need to keep looking for an ESL teaching job.

It's been nice to come back to my desk and get things done everyday. I really do like working. In my early 20's I never thought I would feel that way.

It's good.

Guess what is not fun at all? Looking for work. I just can’t stand it. I really shouldn’t complain; I’m young and healthy, my skills are polished, and I’m fabulously employable. But there’s something about looking for work that always sends my self-confidence into a tailspin.

Suddenly, I’m out in my little raft, in the middle of the ocean, hoping that an ocean liner is 1) going to see me frantically waving my arms and 2) stop and pick me up and 3) be the RIGHT ocean liner… not some dirty, awful ocean liner that sends me straight to work in the smelly galley, making fish-head soup.

I’m getting freaked out by all this dire talk about the failing economy on the radio. And to make matters more complex, Nate is going to be losing his job by the end of the next week (landscaping is seasonal work, dontcha know). He seems to have all these grand plans for what he’s going to do with his ‘time off’, while I’m busy working myself up into a steaming lather about the car insurance and the unpaid bills and my main dilemma: I don’t live where the work is, but I can’t afford to move. A sickening catch-22. And the unspoken irksome other thing: I don’t like being the main breadwinner. I like it even less that there will soon be no bread at all.

I have some ideas about what to do, though—so Never Fear! My Brain is Here!

Options:

1. I get a “make due” (e.g. making fish-head soup) job until I can find something more desirable.
2. I move to where the jobs are, and charge all the moving costs to Mastercard (not the best choice).
3. I find work abroad… Nate goes wherever his little heart desires, and we part ways, be it for the time being, or permanently…
4. I do a combination of working a “make due” job and volunteering at a schoolthat might be able to offer me a job when the busy season starts up again.
5. Ummmm…
   
   OK. So I’m officially scared. I’m sure that this will all pan out, one way or another; things always work out for me. Back to the grindstone I go: I need to craft a killer resumé!

Well, it turns out that EI won't pay up, because I wasn't 'ready, willing and able' to begin work at any time during my training course. I am irritated of course-- why am I paying into a program that never wants to help me when I need help?-- but I understand the logic behind it. I did leave work to go to school voluntarily. If EI paid out to every person that did the same, the coffers would be empty.

Just wish I had saved up a little more before I got myself into the program.

Anyway, the proverbial fire has been lit under my not-so-proverbial butt, and I am in the midst of a job search. There are some pretty dodgy employers out there; Hanaland comes to mind. If you were coming from halfway around the world to learn English, would you want to study at a place called Pacific Gateway International College of Canada... or would you want to study at Hanaland?

Guess it depends on what you're looking for in an English school. If a cute name is all it takes... well, good for you, Hanaland.

Pat has left me to my job search; I am listening to 'Freebird' in --what is that-- Spanish? Portuguese? It actually gains something in the translation... I'm going to miss Pat's little apartment and the quirky neighborhood around here. I love the quirky old houses with twinklelights on the banisters, and the friendly-looking newer townhouses with Tibetian prayer flags on the porches; the big trees and green yards and the funky people with cool haircuts and second-hand wool coats. This is an urban hippiedom. I like the impression I get of this place: consiousness, coolness, coffee, organic grainy goodness, community, action, interest.

Anyway, I'm heading back to Aldergrove tomorrow... with mixed feelings.

I am listening to mixed tapes from cassettefrommyex.com and mowing my way through a bag of Hallowe’en candy that Pat’s mom brought for him. Sorry Pat… I’ll get you more if you wake up tomorrow and go- “What the hell? No more Caramilks? No more Aeros? Why are there still so many boxes of Smarties?” Speaking of which. I think only little bitty kids like Smarties, for the colours. We get to a certain age and think, “man, Smarties stink. Too much candy coating. Where’s the chocolate?”

By the way, Pat is awesome. I am so grateful to him for letting me sleep in his guestroom for this past month. He even fed me a few times, and invited me to his moustache madness birthday party last night! I drew on a kitty-whisker moustache… it was weird, sitting in a semi-cool bar downtown, at this table full of semi-strangers all clad in fake moustaches… the pretty girls looked the weirdest. Pretty girls in black mustaches, having serious regular everyday conversations, and drinking beer… it was art in action.

I’m not quite ready to look for work yet. I think maybe an entire day off is in order? I say it with a question mark, because I’m not sure I can stand a whole day of just relaxing. I have been reprogrammed to function in the robotic fashion of ultimate productive output. Must. Find. Work.

Oh… my goodness, here I was, thinking that I must be wild and crazy, staying up late and blogging on my first free night… and nope, hey, it’s only 7:49pm. Ten-to-eight, and my ‘wild-and-crazy’ consists of eating expired chocolate and talking to a computer. Sad. Speaking of which, check out http://alice.pandorabots.com/ …I met Alice today. She’s a little boring, but up for a chat anytime. Have you ever spoken to a robot before? There are some interesting ones out there…just google “chat with a robot”. They function using deductionism… it’s a new theory to me. I just learned about these robots today, because you can use them to teach English. They won’t respond to incorrect grammar. Well, some of them won’t.

Well… it’s Saturday night in Vancouver… what am I doing here? I think I’ll go prowl the ‘hood. Yes, I’ll be safe. I always carry my pepper spray and wear my “don’t mess with that girl, she must be crazy” fuzzy hat.

My time with the CELTA course now numbers in hours instead of days. This has been like a year on University crammed into four weeks. My cheeks rae flushed for want of sleep, my eyes crusty, my stomach knotted. I'm not sure what my 'new' life will be like in the next few months.

Small bit of bitching: I have always spelled PRACTICE with a 'c' (the American spelling). During this course, I learned that the UK/Canadian/Australian/et al. spelling of the verb Practice is, in fact, PRACTISE (with an 's'). The noun (like a medical practice) is the 'c' version. So, becoming a grammarian, and an English teacher, I thought it right to ammend my errant 'c'-spelling ways.

I got my paper back. A little red circle was looped around every 's' every time I wrote 'practise'. What the hell?

I am going to stick to practice with a 'c', though it pisses me off, like spelling colour without the 'u'... there are only small things like these that make us Canadian. I am loathe to give them up.

Hmmm.

Very-very tired, I am. Speak and teach the good English, I think I can.

Yesterday I handed in the last version of my re-written paper; if I pass or fail it now, it no longer matters. I will pass the course regardless. Of course, the perfectionist (a.k.a. the 'brown noser') in me wants the pass. And I mean the PASS. But (heave a sigh) the paper is in; the last teaching practise class has been taught; and the cold I have been fighting off for a week and a half is setting up shop in my sinuses and throat booger manufacturing. It's a lucrative business these days.

Hard to say what I'll miss most. I really enjoyed being a student again; prying open my rusty cerebral doors and tossing in knowledge. My hungry feral brain has been feasting. I have enjoyed being among classmates and students of other classes... especially Aki and the gaggle of Korean girls studying the TOEIC in the back classroom. I've really enjoyed being a trial Vancouverite... though I'm not so sure I'll be looking for work in the city. Nate is pretty deadset against it, and I want to give our relationship every opportunity to work out. He's been fabulously supportive to me while I've been away at school, and I've really missed him. Which is good, right?

I haven't enjoyed the fresh smack of poverty. I am broke, broke, broke, and can't wait to get to work. It complicates the moving process... say I get a job in Victoria-- how will I move there to start working? I paid for my coffee this morning with pennies (I now have two pennies left in my wallet), and I have a nice hole dug into my overdraft at the bank... I guess I could always sell my car? Anyway, I'm not too worried about it, because I'm sure everything will work out. It always does. Feeding anxiety to a problem only makes it bigger.

Yeah. I said it, now I just have to believe it.

Two days to go, then I'm off on the job hunt, out in the world. Wish me luck, send me good vibes, and keep loving each other (because it makes the world a nicer place altogether).

~Endrene

I'm sure I've stated several times that time flies whether you're having fun or not. The last three weeks have been a case in point.

The CELTA course has put me through the wringer, and I have loved it and hated it in equal measures. OK, I lie, I've loved it waaaaay more than I've hated it. There's only one week to go, and one more major written assignment, due tomorrow.

Yes. I'm procrastinating… but only a little.

My final assignment has to do with profiling a student, figuring out what they need to do to improve their grammar and fluency, et al. The luck of the draw saw that I got-- get this-- an ENGLISH TEACHER to interview. Seriously. She teaches ESL in Mexico! Needless to say, it has been a little challenging figuring out where she needs help, because she undoubtedly knows her English grammar better than I do. But she's lovely, just a treasure.
Here’s the first part of my assignment (the rest deals with analyses and rationale, and I am sure is not nearly as interesting to read… besides, I haven’t written it yet). Wishe me luck on my final week!

Rocío Garcia is 32 years old. She has an earring collection, a warm, constant smile, and an open, eager nature. She is from a small town called Sierra Blanco, in Mexico; a place that she describes as “the middle of nowhere”. She has been living in Vancouver for just over three months. It was love that brought Rocío to Vancouver.
Rocío was teaching English in her hometown, a career that she chanced upon. Originally a student of architecture, she ran out of money for engineering school, and had to look for other options. A friend of hers told her about an affordable teacher’s training school, and Rocío applied, hoping to become a math teacher. At the time however, the school only had two teacher-training curriculums available: history, and English. Not being a fan of history, Rocío went into the English program, and found employment shortly after graduation.
English has affected Rocío’s life in a variety of unexpected and wonderful ways. Her career brought her an opportunity to study in the UK, and to the love of her life. The day she ‘met’ her Canadian boyfriend online, she was in the only internet café in her hometown. She wasn’t looking for love; she was looking for English grammar exercises to give to her class for the next day. She had her Skype account running so that she could chat with friends, and possibly meet native English speakers who would be willing to give her a hand. “Maybe,” Rocío says, with her characteristic tinkling laugh, “English was my destiny!”

I should clarify. There are also plenty of nutty urbanites, and straight-faced homeless people. Nate and I had a discussion about that tonight. If someone is living in a home that isn't a house, i.e., under a tree, or in a tent-- what gives anyone else the right to say that they are 'homeless'? What if their home just happens to be under a tree?

Because there was a guy, living in the park at the end of the street, who lived under a branchy tree. The parks people came and cut off all of the protective branches, so his home was no more. Nate thinks the guy should've sued.

Still the first to arrive. Not always the last to leave now...

One of the best things about this new phase in my life is the walking. I walk for about 40-45 minutes (it was more like an hour in the first week, when I spent more time poking my head into gaps in the bushes to see what was inside). My walk takes me from the Mt. Pleasant area of Vancouver, down past Science World, along False Creek, and up past B.C. Place to the school. Along the way, I see all kinds of beautiful things, especially in the pink and blue morning light. Patterns are beginning to emerge. When I start out, I make my way through the suburban areas with a mind to take in as much autumn foliage as I can-- I kick through the yellow leaves, and try to make eye contact with the busy walking and biking commuters. I look into people's mossy gardens, and pick out things I like; painted rocks, sunflowers soggy with frost, craggy boulders strategically placed.

There are nutty homeless people, and straight-faced hip urbanites, bustling through exercise routines, all decked out in LuLu Lemon. I see the same guy every other morning with his black dog, rummaging through the Science World garbage bin. There is a guy on a bike that always seems to go by me at the same point on the path. He always wears a red-and-black striped sweater that reminds me of the one that my friend Billy used to wear in high school. There is the same pack of crows along False Creek every morning, preening each other and screaming and searching through discarded McDonald's sacks. When no-one is close by, I try to speak to them in their language. Whenever one looks at me quizzically and fly away, I wonder: did I just say something offensive? Or did I just give her a command, and she is flying off to follow through?

I find this interesting about city people: they will almost never look you full in the face. If you catch them doing so, and toss them a smile, they quickly look away as though it was all a mistake. Only the buskers and the street people will try to catch an eye. Maybe that’s why everyone else looks away; if you make a connection, something will be expected of you. I know it’s not much—but couldn’t a smile be enough? I’m going to start the Vancouver Smile Revolution. I’m going to shine my beautiful fangs at EVERYBODY, whether they like it or not!

Almost time for class.

XXX LOVE and BIG VANCOUVER SMILES TO YOU

Namaste

Endrené

I just roughly calculated how much time I have spent at class or studying in the last five days. About... 70 hours. The janitor actually asked me to turn out the lights when I left one evening, as he got fed up waiting for me to go. I'm the last student here again tonight, which I think is developing into my 'role'... first to arrive, last to leave. Not such a bad role to play.

I suppose.

I cried in class today. This stuff is INTENSE. I didn't know that there was SO MUCH that I didn't know about the English language. I seriously regret not committing all of the verb tenses to memory before starting this course.

Shall I fill you in?

I’m taking the CELTA course at Global Village in Vancouver. It’s a high-speed wham-bam of a course, aimed at getting me certified to teach English as a second language to adult learners. That’s the gist of it. I think I might have already mentioned as much… I had no idea HOW crazy it was going to be. It’s crazy. CRAZY-crazy. And wonderful. I won’t regret a minute of it when I am a teacher, of that I’m certain. Even the crying part will serve its purpose.

There are ten of us taking this course together; most of us are Canadian, though there’s an American guy that we tease every time he says ‘copy’ or ‘roof’ or ‘college’ (I suppose we’re getting back on behalf of all those Canadians out there who have been hassled for their ‘eh’s’), and a girl from… Israel, I believe? and another girl who grew up in India but who lives in Canada now. Should that be ‘whom lives in Canada now’? Good Lord, I’ve got a grammatical conscience. Yikes.

There is a TESOL course being taught simultaneously in our department; this course is for non-native speakers of English who think they might like to teach English in their home countries. The students are all Korean or Japanese. I spend more time talking with them during the breaks than I do with my own classmates. I guess it’s partly because most of my classmates are constantly oozing panicked anxiety, and I keep unintentionally sponging it up. The TESOL students aren’t studying at the same frenetic pace, and therefore seem to be a little more laid-back and cheery. They certainly don’t whine as much as my classmates do. Could be a cultural thing, too.

I’m living in Vancouver now, with my friend’s friend, Pat. Though now I think I can claim him genuinely as my friend as well. Last night I went to FRIGHT NIGHT with him and his four friends, and brought Akihiro (one of the TESOL students) along. It was crazy-busy; today turned out to be a Pro-D day, so every boogermuncher in Vancouver was whooping it up at the PNE last night. We waited nearly two hours in line for one haunted house which turned out to be painfully lame. I felt really bad for Aki, who was a good sport about it. But we soldiered on; after 10:30 pm the crowd began to thin a bit and we managed to get a couple of rides in (one on the Corkscrew coaster and one on the Crazy Beach Party ride) and we went through the Toxic Nightmare haunted house, which was pretty creepy. Sufficiently creepy anyway—Aki just about had a heart attack at one point when some costumed madman leapt out at him! There were some really neat costumed creepers zombie-ing around the park… a ‘dead’ couple, an insane clown posse, spooky stilt-walkers, etc. They would just kind of smoothly saunter up to people who weren’t paying attention and scare the crap out of them; I could usually tell where they were by the screams. Although one of the sinister clowns got me good while I was zoning out in the line-up for the Crazy Beach. He appeared out of nowhere and suddenly yelled “BONJOUR!” in my face in his scary clown voice. Predictably, I shrieked. Aki was disturbed that he didn’t say “Bonsoire,” seeing that it was the evening.

Anyway. That was last night. I paid for my late night of fun with tears in class today… I don’t foresee going out on weeknights for the rest of the duration of this course!

I’ll try to write whenever I can grab a few free moments, though it seems unlikely at this stage in the game. Know this: I love this course. It’s exhausting, but it is SO rewarding. If you think of me, send me some good vibes, I could use them! (Thank you, in advance!)

Namaste

Endrene

I have been lucky to have been pretty healthy for the past year. I caught a wussy little head cold, (probably at the voting venue) and now I feel like crap. Well, high-grade crap, comparatively. I guess it’s good to get sick once in a while, to be humbled by a germ, and to feel a renewed sense of compassion for those who suffer more than I do.

Shouldn’t have done all of that wild naked moondancing last night.

Just kidding.

This makes me remember something from when I was learning how to use the archaic point-of-sale system at Opus. Chakara was explaining everything to me and the other trainee very diligently, and I was absorbing as much as I could. But at one point my brain hit that ‘full’ point, where all the knowledge sort of hits the side of my head, and denied entry to my ears, dribbles down my face like so much egg yolk. I must have looked gappy, because Chakara asked, “you OK?” and I replied, “I’m OK. I think I just need a hug and a nap.” (Chakara obliged me with a hug—so sweet of her!—but the nap had to be put off until a later time.)

Anyway, that’s kind of how I feel now, like all I could really use is a hug and a nap. My brain is full of modal auxiliary verbs and mucus… but I only have three days left at A-1 Pallet, and so much to do. POWER UP, Endrené! Write that manual! Fill out that two-week review form! Revise that training checklist! You can do it! Kachaaaaaa!

Good health and big warm hugs and nice cozy naps are wished for all of you.

Namaste,

Endrené

I almost forgot! Tonight... the moon will be FAB-Yoo-LOus! Do the hippie thang, and give a little moondance a try tonight. You won't be sorry!

Less than a week left at A-1 Pallet now. I’m tying up loose ends as best I can, trying to make things tidy and functional for Juwll and Sarah in the office so that it’s not too hard for them when I go. I don’t think it will be too difficult; if there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that everyone is replaceable. I shouldn’t ever flatter myself that I am the ‘only one’ that can get any particular job done. Besides, if we all thought like, that, we’d all be stuck in jobs we hate, out of twisted loyalty and bitter pride.

(If any of you reading this just thought, “hey, that’s me,” I give you permission to find something you like better and quit your current job. The only thing you ‘owe’ to the world is your happiest, most functional self. Don’t just do what you can do. Do what you love.)

A few people are asking me what I plan to do once I’ve completed the CELTA program, where I plan to go. The truth is, I’m not sure. Right now, it’s just good to be taking the plunge and be going back to school. I’ve been plowing through the pretask, and now have a feeble grasp on verb tenses… did you know that there was such a thing as a perfect progressive past tense? I didn’t either, until last night.

I’m going to live with my friend Pat in Vancouver. I talked to him on the phone last night, and realized that I haven’t heard his voice in two years, and I’ve probably only met him three times… so it’s really openhearted of him to allow a relative stranger to move in to his apartment for a month. He’s warned me about the potential for mice (no big deal) and mess (also no big deal), I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should warn him about… maybe that green peppers make me gassy? Nathan is alright with the arrangement, and Pat has made it clear that Nathan is welcome to stay whenever as well. It’s altogether an astoundingly copasetic arrangement. Thank you, Universe! Buddha! God, or whoever/whatever! Thank you, Pat! Thank you, Global Village Vancouver! Life is good.

The power was out for a few hours at work, and it’s just now come back on. I think there was an accident down the highway involving a power pole… I could continue working, but everyone else in the office has cleared out, and I don’t believe in getting paid for slacking. I’ll hit the trail myself pretty soon. I’ll go vote. It’s election day… hooray! And just remember… if you DON’T vote, you’re not allowed to complain about the government. Sorry, but not voting is not cool.

Oh yeah, and if I was American, I'd be OBAMA all the way, baby.

Carnation brand hot chocolate’s catchphrase is “A Warm Hug on a Cold Day”. Isn’t that a lovely sentiment? Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we could all get our allotted warm hugs on cold days?

And it is COLD in the A-1 Pallet office this morning. I had frost on my car for the first time this season this morning. I’m wearing my A-1 toque, a giant grey hoodie of Nate’s, and my wooly ski-socks, as I sit here typing away. And I’m drinking a ‘poor man’s mocha’ (recipe: add one package of Carnation brand hot chocolate to one cup of crappy coffee.)

The election fast approacheth. I’m voting Green because
a) they don’t use dirty attack ads maligning the other party leaders
b) they want to make Canada a more ecologically happenin’ nation
c) they want to find a balance between ecology and economy…

I don’t know why people get so freaked out when world-saving measures like the Kyoto accord are hashed out. It’s as though if we all suddenly started being kinder to the earth, the global economy would collapse, and… hey, guess what? It’s collapsing anyway!

Bpppplllt. I don’t believe in money. It’s just an abstract concept. And economics is just a bunch of theories made up by frantic guys in gray suits. In times like these, the main thing to do is buy a bunch of veggie seeds, and plow a bunch of compost into your backyard for the winter. That way, by next spring you can plant your garden, the world can collapse, and you can still eat. But seriously… why can’t we have a resurgence of craftsmanship, bartering, and fair-trade? Why can’t we slow down and fill our heads up with useful knowledge, like how to make shoes out of roadkill and how to shit in the woods? Then we can exchange goods and services. You help me prune my apple trees in the spring, I’ll give you some apples in the autumn. You bring me some eggs from your chickens twice a month, and I’ll make you some roadkill boots.

More reasonably, have a look at New Zealand. Quite a number of years ago, it dawned on the country that worldwide, there was a limited amount of fossil fuel, and thus they couldn’t depend on other countries and continents to be shipping them foods and staples forever. They had to find ways to be self-sufficient. And they have done a lot to achieve that end, in terms of food production and focusing on boosting the value of the products being produced in the country.
I’ve never figured out why Canada sells its raw lumber to the USA. The USA turns the lumber into useful items that they sell back to Canada. Is that ridiculous or what? What are we doing?

Anyway. Vote Green. Boost your skill set with useful survival skills. Get or give a Warm Hug on a Cold Day.

Last night I had a sudden burst of energy after watching Grey’s Anatomy and eating dinner at Sarah’s house, and I rushed home to gather Nate up along with shampoo and conditioner and swimsuits and towels. We were going swimming, and that was that! Usually when Nate harasses me to go swimming I opt out for one reason or another. All excuses, usually.

We went to the pool in Walnut Grove, which has an excellent water slide and an adults-only hot-tub (no splashing, no screaming, no pee-pee in the pool), and a steam room. I usually end the evening in the steam room, sweating like a cheese in August. Sometimes people sneak in with a bottle of cold water and pour some over the thermostat to make it pump out extra steam. Last night it wasn’t very steamy, so I was hoping a bottle-smuggler would appear. My wish is my command! In came this smiling chubby Asian man, very Buddha-esque. He dumped the WHOLE bottle on the thermostat, and laughed when I thanked him. The steam quickly got thick and hot. While he plopped himself down on the top shelf to my right, the other two people in there limply made for the door like overcooked broccoli. I sneaked a glance through the fog at the steam-Buddha beside me… he was doing yoga! Breathing slowly and carefully so that I wouldn’t burn my throat, I tried stretching too- it was fabulous, my muscles like melted butter. I imagined the inside of my body as a cool continent, the exterior only slowly warming. But really, it had never been so hot in there— I eventually had to make for the door myself, leaving the guy folded in half like a jackknife. I had little patches of steam burns on my knees and belly. It was totally worth it. Steam rooms are weird little pockets of society.

*****************************************

The Stanley Park miniature railway is all decked out for the yearly Ghost Train… I am so excited! They start the ride on October 10th, I think. This year, the theme is PIRATES! I’ve only been on it once before with my dad, in 2006 I think. The theme was the Mexican Day of the Dead. It was a blast, very festive and colourful (and only a little scary)! Also, the PNE Playland is opening on the 18th for FRIGHT NIGHTS - I’ve never gone to that before. Tamara and Brad were talking about maybe coming down for both of those… that would be a blast. I haven’t been in a good haunted house for years. Although I did have a dream that the Disney Haunted House had ‘Adult’ alternatives of the ride, which involved experimental mind-bending alternate realities… but that’s another story…

Fabulous news! I have a WEBSITE! (distant cheering echoes in my ears...)

www.endrene.com

It's going to be where you can go to check out my artwork. For now, it doesn't showcase any of my paintings, but it has a smattering of works from my sketchbooks from the past three years. Check it out! Major kudos go to my designers and marketers, Amy and Christie of FRESH marketing. www.freshmarketing.ca These ladies do lovely juicy work.

And off on another random tangent... I realized that I have been posting in the Japanese time-zone for the past year and a half. Even though I don't live in Japan anymore. It's 2:13 pm, Monday October 6th. For the record. I'll fix that as soon as I finish this post.

Brought this to work in my pocket today. It is from my “Dalai Lama Quote per Day” Calendar, and it was just so good, I couldn’t leave it sitting on top my dishwasher:
“Merely thinking that compassion and reason and patience are good will not be enough to develop them. We must wait for difficulties to arise and then attempt to practice them.”
That Dalai Lama… you gotta love him and his big smiling heart.

Hard to believe the weekend has already rolled around again! Nathan and I went to an Outlaw race in Britannia Beach (near Squamish, on Hwy 99) last weekend. It was fun; there was enough safety and control involved so that I wasn’t entirely freaked out. I volunteered on one of the corners, and waved the speedboarders through if it was safe to proceed (it always was). Nate’s Switchback team member, Jeremy Banting, came in third in the race. I found this highly amusing, because the name “Banting” has the ring of authority in the Speedboarding circles (at least as far as I know… which isn’t very far)… and Jeremy… well. Jeremy just doesn’t strike me as a figure of authority. More a figure of comedy; the straight-man to Kelsey’s wild card. I didn’t put “Jeremy” and “Banting” together until last weekend. (go to http://www.switchbacklongboards.com/ and click on ‘Team’ to see the guys I am talking about. I don’t think they have many groupies yet, so they’ll gladly accept a few more).

I like it when the events are good clean fun, like last weekend’s race. The longboarders are mostly respectful and informative to curious passerby and interlopers. But then you get the occasional assholic personality, and they ruin it for the other guys (and girls). The big championships in Maryhill WA saw some of those badass people, and now the nearby town no longer wants to have anything to do with speedboaring events. I mean—these smalltown people opened up their hearts, volunteered, let these guys (and girls) camp, provided facilities for them, even fed them all breakfast… and then a few narrow-minded individuals went and spray painted graffiti and broke mirrors and tipped sculptures, and generally caused thousands of dollars of damage, and irreparably damaged the relationship between the townsfolk and the speedboarders. I mean, who wants to open their doors to hoodlums?

I’ll continue to support the speedboarders, but only the nice ones who don’t say the F-word in front of children, and take the time to educate the skeptics. No point in hating the haters… they only hate what they fear. So erase the fear with knowledge, and you erase the hate. Hey speedboarders: listen to the Dalai Lama, yo.

This weekend Nate and I are heading up to see mom in Kaleden. I’m hoping that I’ll have some free time to say—go for breakfast at White Spot with some of my home-town homies. 10 am Saturday morning? See you there!

It's overcast today, cool. Spotlets of rain are starting to pounce into the dust of the yard here and there. It smells like the fibreglass guys next door are busy-- it's a poisonous stench. I won't miss that when I'm gone from here.

I feel a little overwhelmed lately, with emotions that shift like an undertow, invisible to the people around me.

Autumn is like this. Always changing, often unpredictably.

I went for a walk as soon as the lunch bell went. I need more alone time than I have been getting, especially as I am about to launch back into the nonstop social melee of school again. I thought about a few things; about how Nathan is determined to move to Nanaimo, and how I support him on this decision, not really knowing what it means for ‘us’. About the job in Tokushima that Bubu has emailed me about. About the fact that I have been criticized quite a lot in the past few years for ‘being in my head’ too much… when actually, it’s quite a nice place to be. My head is the place that produces my artwork, my dreams and my plans. I like going there, being there.

But I guess I have to come back from it, too. It’s not a place to stay. It’s not a place of actuality and accomplishment. What was that quote I read recently… “We tend to judge ourselves by our intentions, while the world judges us by our actions”. In fact, I think I put that quote in this blog already last month.

I guess it’s pertinent right now.