When I began writing this blog a year and a half ago, I was afraid that I would not be able to continue writing posts and that my blog would be just one of the thousands of blogs that were abandoned after only one or two posts. I have enjoyed using this blog for the last 18 or nineteen months as a platform to plug my own personal ideas and to procrastinate from many of life's more pressing matters. However, in the past few months as I have become more and more absorbed with my studies here at Trent, I have found it difficult to keep all of the bored procrastinators who read this blog abreast of events in my life. For that reason, this will be my last post on this blog. I may, down the road, when time permits, return again to leisurely writing. But for now, this will be all.
It feels like a strange time to write the last words. I am waiting to see if I will be pursuing doctoral studies next year. Laura is waiting for a full time job in built heritage. Winnie is waiting to see if we will get her a dog door and do away with the bell that she so patiently rings when she needs to pee. It is a time of uncertainty, indeed.
However, I am hopeful and faithful. I have appreciated the opportunity that this blog has provided me for sharing weak humour, poorly founded opinions and unrelated anecdotes. Also, I fear that not all of my posts have helped my poor readers' digestion. However, I will, in light of this fear, end on the words of the most under-rated author that I can think of.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call:
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Cheers,
DR
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Ignis Fatuus or an untitled rambling
From time to time I hear a phrase or a line from a song or poem that seems to capture a feeling that has until then been eerily resistant to being minimized into mere text. This past Christmas I was particularly aware of a poignant feeling lurking in the back of my mind. A realization that life was no longer as simple as I had hoped it would be when I was a child. The complexity is mostly created by a very simple principle. I cannot be in more than one place at a time. This little fact has begun to manifest itself again and again in the past few years. This year I was particularly aware of this as close friends and family were either briefly inserted into a busy schedule or missed altogether.
The other day I heard John Thaw reciting a line from Hilarie Belloc's The South Country. To avoid boring you with all of the poem, I will simply quote the final lines.
If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.
I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.
Hopefully, one day when I am old and grey, I will have the chance to sit on a porch or in a fishing boat with old friends and leisurely tell stories and lies about the old days. Until then, I suppose that I will have to experience some life in order to embellish future stories to an acceptable level of entertainment.
The other day I heard John Thaw reciting a line from Hilarie Belloc's The South Country. To avoid boring you with all of the poem, I will simply quote the final lines.
If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.
I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.
Hopefully, one day when I am old and grey, I will have the chance to sit on a porch or in a fishing boat with old friends and leisurely tell stories and lies about the old days. Until then, I suppose that I will have to experience some life in order to embellish future stories to an acceptable level of entertainment.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Pickles
It's that time of year again.
Days are getting shorter. The weather is getting colder and more blustery. The weeks are getting longer, more tiring and packed with ever more last minute to dos. I'm getting tired.
I guess I must not have been paying too much attention to my calendar. I was browsing through the BBC this morning and noticed an article about Black Friday. I hadn't even realized that it was American Thanksgiving. I guess I had become a little distracted with my own things.
The list is never-ending. Reading for my own school and prepping for my first year seminar. Writing my essays and marking my first years' essays. Making lists of academics and universities that I am interested in. I have a great deal on my plate at the moment. I really should not complain. I am aware of too many people who do not have enough on their plate these days: both literally and figuratively.
Speaking of lots on my plate, Laura and I are getting a puppy. For those of you who know me, this is a bit of a shock, I know. Take two vitamin c and lie down for a bit. For those of you who do not know me, I'll quote my mother, "your not really much of a dog person". I admit, I have, in the past, been tempted to focus on the negatives of dogs: incessant barking, smelling bad even when they haven't just done their business on your carpet, smelling bad when they have just done their business on your carpet, needing constant attention, incessant barking and I haven't even gotten into worms, fleas, skunks, porcupines, shots, etc.
The good news is that I'm learning new things every day. My lesson for last month was this; don't take a 5-6 hour road trip with Laura when she really wants something.
I've already seen our puppy. She is pretty cute. She's a Miniature Schnauzer. This is good because she is small and hypoallergenic for Laura.
This isn't her exactly, but close. We still don't have a name. I'm sure that after several accidents in the apartment and a week or two of incessant barking I will have thought of several.
Ah well,
Tot ziens.
Days are getting shorter. The weather is getting colder and more blustery. The weeks are getting longer, more tiring and packed with ever more last minute to dos. I'm getting tired.
I guess I must not have been paying too much attention to my calendar. I was browsing through the BBC this morning and noticed an article about Black Friday. I hadn't even realized that it was American Thanksgiving. I guess I had become a little distracted with my own things.
The list is never-ending. Reading for my own school and prepping for my first year seminar. Writing my essays and marking my first years' essays. Making lists of academics and universities that I am interested in. I have a great deal on my plate at the moment. I really should not complain. I am aware of too many people who do not have enough on their plate these days: both literally and figuratively.
Speaking of lots on my plate, Laura and I are getting a puppy. For those of you who know me, this is a bit of a shock, I know. Take two vitamin c and lie down for a bit. For those of you who do not know me, I'll quote my mother, "your not really much of a dog person". I admit, I have, in the past, been tempted to focus on the negatives of dogs: incessant barking, smelling bad even when they haven't just done their business on your carpet, smelling bad when they have just done their business on your carpet, needing constant attention, incessant barking and I haven't even gotten into worms, fleas, skunks, porcupines, shots, etc.
The good news is that I'm learning new things every day. My lesson for last month was this; don't take a 5-6 hour road trip with Laura when she really wants something.I've already seen our puppy. She is pretty cute. She's a Miniature Schnauzer. This is good because she is small and hypoallergenic for Laura.
This isn't her exactly, but close. We still don't have a name. I'm sure that after several accidents in the apartment and a week or two of incessant barking I will have thought of several.
Ah well,
Tot ziens.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Pursuit of Happiness
I took a canoe ride with Peter again the other day. Fifteen minutes after leaving shore by Dublin Street, we were faced with the choice of either portaging for one hundred yards and then shooting a half-mile rapid or portaging three quarters of a mile and putting the canoe into calm water. I should preface this story by letting you know that Peter and I both consider Bill Mason to be one of the wisest men who ever lived. We took him quite literally when he said, "Anyone who tells you that they like portaging is either a liar or crazy-or maybe both." With Bill Mason's words echoing in our ears, there was only one option to be used.
Unfortunately, we did not heed Mason's other warning that "in a rapids a canoe is like a wild stallion...that will dump you overboard and continue down the river by itself". I will describe the scene for you. Two brave young souls removed their shoes, socks and made fast the contents of the boat. To the left, rapids as far as the eye can see. To the north, water charging over the dam with a thunderous roar-so close we could feel the spray. Straight ahead, three laughing Ptbro Utilities workers placing bets on how far the two idiots in the canoe would make it.
We did not waste time on idle chatter-there would be chattering enough if the canoe bucked us into the icy waters. The lots had been cast and we had it to do. Into the boat. Paddling furiously. Swept sideways. Bump off a log, off a rock, over a fallen tree, wedged into an eddy. Out of the boat, push it off, hold it steady, back in and off we went again. Soaked to the waist, waves rush over the gunnels. the bow dips, takes on water, springs out of the froth and proudly surges forward to the rhythm of the paddle. The run becomes a blur of rocks, sunken logs and embankments only just missed by the brief twist of a paddle. The effort of the crew means nothing if the canoe refuses to respond; but, centuries of breeding shows through, and the graceful craft responds beautifully to each movement of the paddle.
Six and a half minutes later we arrived in calm water-heroes who had conquered the best that the Otonobee could fling at us. It is surprising how much of a workout one can get for six minutes in a rapids. The contrast is shocking. Lower bodies are frozen from the cool October water, while upper bodies are aching with the exertion of paddling, pushing, prying in an effort to keep the boat right-side-up and pointed into safe water.
After the first half-mile of rapids, the Otonobee opened to offer us all the serenity of an abandoned river in the late fall. The majority of the twenty kilometre trip was a leisurely paddle. All told, definately the best way I can think of to spend a morning.
To borrow from a favourite author of mine "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing-absolutely nothing-half so worth doing as simply messing about in boats." -Grahame-TWITW
Unfortunately, we did not heed Mason's other warning that "in a rapids a canoe is like a wild stallion...that will dump you overboard and continue down the river by itself". I will describe the scene for you. Two brave young souls removed their shoes, socks and made fast the contents of the boat. To the left, rapids as far as the eye can see. To the north, water charging over the dam with a thunderous roar-so close we could feel the spray. Straight ahead, three laughing Ptbro Utilities workers placing bets on how far the two idiots in the canoe would make it.
Six and a half minutes later we arrived in calm water-heroes who had conquered the best that the Otonobee could fling at us. It is surprising how much of a workout one can get for six minutes in a rapids. The contrast is shocking. Lower bodies are frozen from the cool October water, while upper bodies are aching with the exertion of paddling, pushing, prying in an effort to keep the boat right-side-up and pointed into safe water.
After the first half-mile of rapids, the Otonobee opened to offer us all the serenity of an abandoned river in the late fall. The majority of the twenty kilometre trip was a leisurely paddle. All told, definately the best way I can think of to spend a morning.
To borrow from a favourite author of mine "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing-absolutely nothing-half so worth doing as simply messing about in boats." -Grahame-TWITW
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Three Hour Tour.
I'm beginning to learn that one of the greatest qualities a person can possess in life is the ability to seem to know exactly what they are doing. Allow me to illustrate. Peter and I decided to canoe from London Street to the Trent Campus last week. This is about a 15 kilometre round trip and it includes three dams that needed to be portaged. All three of these were good tests of our ability to act as if all is as it ought to be.
Dam one consisted of hauling the canoe over eighty yards or so of slimy rocks and then through the back yard of an old folks home. Our tactic was quite simple. -'According to our carefully planned route, we will find a spot to throw the canoe back into the water right over this hill. Ah, Yes, there it is. Just as we planned.'
Dam number two was a bit more complex, but we managed to get through without looking phased. Just a little matter of throwing the canoe over a twelve foot chain link fence topped with triple strand barbed wire.
Number three was a bit more public, so we decided that our best option was to comment loudly about how the trees and water level had changed since our last trip through here the week before. In truth we hadn't the foggiest about where we would find water again, but, like Columbus, when we found what we were looking for we didn't waste any time second guessing ourselves.
On our way back, nonchalance and confidence were less a façade than an actual persona. Plus, we had no doubt in our minds that the people waving at us from the bank were clearly in awe of our prowess. On the third or fourth time drifting past, it may have been somewhat difficult to appear cool and collected as we sorted out which end of the map was north. Fortunately, from the bank no one could see that it was really just a page ripped out of Where's Waldo.
If there is anything that you should take away from this, it's that confidence will get you places in life. Here are some examples to use in your day-to-day routine.
'Yes, I did mean to knock over the pyramid of crystal wine glasses. I planned it the moment I walked into the room.'
'Oh, I knew the horse would kick me as I leaned over to pick up the gum that I intentionally allowed to fall out of my mouth. I rather enjoy it-it helps clear my head.'
It's like my dad once said, 'It can be a little humiliating carrying a snowmobile down the road on a wheel burrow, but just don't give them a chance to ask questions.' Which is exactly the policy I used as I rattled down Water Street dragging a free barbecue during rush hour. A good stare down reminds the locals that they are the ones who should feel uncomfortable for staring. Plus, I am now one of the ruling elite who have chosen to singe off all of their arm hair while lighting the blasted thing.
Tot ziens
Dam one consisted of hauling the canoe over eighty yards or so of slimy rocks and then through the back yard of an old folks home. Our tactic was quite simple. -'According to our carefully planned route, we will find a spot to throw the canoe back into the water right over this hill. Ah, Yes, there it is. Just as we planned.'
Dam number two was a bit more complex, but we managed to get through without looking phased. Just a little matter of throwing the canoe over a twelve foot chain link fence topped with triple strand barbed wire.
Number three was a bit more public, so we decided that our best option was to comment loudly about how the trees and water level had changed since our last trip through here the week before. In truth we hadn't the foggiest about where we would find water again, but, like Columbus, when we found what we were looking for we didn't waste any time second guessing ourselves.
On our way back, nonchalance and confidence were less a façade than an actual persona. Plus, we had no doubt in our minds that the people waving at us from the bank were clearly in awe of our prowess. On the third or fourth time drifting past, it may have been somewhat difficult to appear cool and collected as we sorted out which end of the map was north. Fortunately, from the bank no one could see that it was really just a page ripped out of Where's Waldo.
If there is anything that you should take away from this, it's that confidence will get you places in life. Here are some examples to use in your day-to-day routine.
'Yes, I did mean to knock over the pyramid of crystal wine glasses. I planned it the moment I walked into the room.'
'Oh, I knew the horse would kick me as I leaned over to pick up the gum that I intentionally allowed to fall out of my mouth. I rather enjoy it-it helps clear my head.'
It's like my dad once said, 'It can be a little humiliating carrying a snowmobile down the road on a wheel burrow, but just don't give them a chance to ask questions.' Which is exactly the policy I used as I rattled down Water Street dragging a free barbecue during rush hour. A good stare down reminds the locals that they are the ones who should feel uncomfortable for staring. Plus, I am now one of the ruling elite who have chosen to singe off all of their arm hair while lighting the blasted thing.
Tot ziens
Friday, September 17, 2010
Day Three.
The birth of a new day is a wonderful thing. It is full of possiblity. A chance to forget that one may have spent the day before staring at a wall to avoid a particularly daunting task. The opportunity presented by the break of each new day is a reference to the birth of a new life, a new job or a new place. A chance to step on into the brightness of the future and begin shaping the life that one might wish to have. One more chance to reach for perfection. How wonderful is the hope that wells up as the first rays of sun burst over the horizon and gently waken the world from its nightly slumber.
The excitement that I feel at the arrival of a new day is only heightened in the fall when I look out the window and see the reds and yellows that are so typical of an autum day in Ontario. I have often been concerned at my sanity in the past when I take pause to consider the meaning of the leaves changing their colour. Death and decay are not the most hopeful of thoughts. However, in my mind, I am reassured by the final burst of colour that a maple tree exudes before becoming dormant for a season. Yes, I realize that it is a mere chemical reaction inside of the leaves that results in the colour change, but for me it is a blatant reminder that, in just a few months, these same trees will flower and once again clothe themselves in delightful shades of green. It is only logical that Thanksgiving should be celebrated in fall, surrounded by such a colourful promise that the trees will only sleep for a short time before coming to life to lift us out of winter's dismal grasp.
That's enough for today. I'm off to enjoy nature without my window sheilding me from a good, brisk breeze.
If you are wondering where I was going with this, go outside.
Also, get yourself a re-usable water bottle this fall.
The excitement that I feel at the arrival of a new day is only heightened in the fall when I look out the window and see the reds and yellows that are so typical of an autum day in Ontario. I have often been concerned at my sanity in the past when I take pause to consider the meaning of the leaves changing their colour. Death and decay are not the most hopeful of thoughts. However, in my mind, I am reassured by the final burst of colour that a maple tree exudes before becoming dormant for a season. Yes, I realize that it is a mere chemical reaction inside of the leaves that results in the colour change, but for me it is a blatant reminder that, in just a few months, these same trees will flower and once again clothe themselves in delightful shades of green. It is only logical that Thanksgiving should be celebrated in fall, surrounded by such a colourful promise that the trees will only sleep for a short time before coming to life to lift us out of winter's dismal grasp.
That's enough for today. I'm off to enjoy nature without my window sheilding me from a good, brisk breeze.
If you are wondering where I was going with this, go outside.
Also, get yourself a re-usable water bottle this fall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)