This year I bought my wife a longboard for her birthday. Admittedly it was a bit of a chipmunk gift. I wanted a smaller board that I could do a few more tricks on, but she really wanted a longboard too, so it all worked out.
The great news is that she took right to it. I'm really happy about it, because it means that in future I'll have someone I actually enjoy spending time with to come out with me. But there's a neat byproduct of this.
We went to one of the more upscale areas to do some boarding the other day. On the way back Janet laughed to herself a bit and I asked her what it was about. She said that in the past anytime we've driven down that particular stretch of road she's always looked at houses, but this time she was looking at the trails and paths and roads for nice board runs. It's not quite enough to call a paradigm shift. But it's a start. What makes me so happy about it is that she's seeing the world a bit like I do. A fancy house is one thing, but a healthy mind, body and inner balance are a whole lot more important. Hopefully longboarding can be a door of perception for her in that light. Maybe we can both go into our 60s like Cliff Coleman.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Scrambled Egg In a Cup.
This isn't about scrambled egg in a cup. It's about time, impermanence, infinity, eternity and all that jazz. But it starts out with scrambled egg in a cup. Just giving you a heads up in case you think this is going to be some heartwarming nostalgia type thing. It's not.
When I was a kid, my favorite food was scrambled egg in a cup. My mum (Scottish)would soft boil an egg, put it in a cup with some salt and butter, scramble it up and serve it to me with toast soldiers. I know I loved it, I remember loving it, but I don't remember ever eating it and loving it because at 5 years old she must have undercooked the egg a little too much and I came down with a hideous case of food poisoning. I couldn't stand the look, taste smell or texture of scrambled eggs after that.
So at 5 years old I came down with a massive case of food poisoning and I puked and puked and puked and puked until I passed out, then woke up and puked and passed out until I became completely lost as far as time and space were concerned.
Previous to this poisoning, I had a pretty established routine. I got up in the morning, and I went to bed in the evening when my parents threatened me with Wee Willie Winkie, who would take me away to some kind of labor camp for children if I wasn't in bed when he came knocking.
My routine revolved around television for the most part. The news in the morning until Dad left for work, then a few kids shows until lunch time, mum would watch her soaps in the afternoon and then we'd all watch the same shows at night: Gilligan's Island, Barnaby Jones, Ironside, etc.
This might sound bizarre, but I can pinpoint the day I learned about time, and it was this food poisoning day.
I came to after having been passed out for what seemed like forever. I thought that I had gone to bed at night, yet when I woke up it was night time again. Somehow I'd slept through the whole day. I came out of my bedroom which adjoined the living room to see Gilligan's Island on TV, and the confusion it caused me had my parents giggling away. I was horribly disoriented. Gilligan's Island was something that happened after supper. Supper was something that happened when Dad got home from work. Dad got home from work after the soaps, etc. Yet here I was, a whole day gone, and in my experience none of the event triggers leading up to Gilligan's Island had occurred. It was then that somebody told me it was 7:30.
And at 5 years old I became aware in the most acute and disturbing way that time does not stop, even when you're sleeping.
Since then I've had a few more disturbing revelations concerning time.
I've learned that when you're 16 years old, grade 7 is an era, grade 6 is an era, and the summer between grade 6 and 7 is yet another era. But when you're coming up on 40 years old, then it seems your 20s were an era, your 30s were an era. Somehow the cognizant realization of time hits warp factor 9, and 10 years seem to pass as quickly as a year in school or a summer at the lake.
I've found a way to stem this though, to slow it down so that a summer lasts almost forever again. The secret? Relax. Work less. Play more. If you work a lot, and can't change it, then you have to play a lot more.
I push myself to a state of complete and utter exhaustion every day all summer, every summer. Just because I'm stuck in a little cup of time-space doesn't mean that I can't alter it. I'm going to scramble things up a bit. This year I'm starting summer in the spring. I won't finish it until the fall. And I will play people, and I will play hard.
When I was a kid, my favorite food was scrambled egg in a cup. My mum (Scottish)would soft boil an egg, put it in a cup with some salt and butter, scramble it up and serve it to me with toast soldiers. I know I loved it, I remember loving it, but I don't remember ever eating it and loving it because at 5 years old she must have undercooked the egg a little too much and I came down with a hideous case of food poisoning. I couldn't stand the look, taste smell or texture of scrambled eggs after that.
So at 5 years old I came down with a massive case of food poisoning and I puked and puked and puked and puked until I passed out, then woke up and puked and passed out until I became completely lost as far as time and space were concerned.
Previous to this poisoning, I had a pretty established routine. I got up in the morning, and I went to bed in the evening when my parents threatened me with Wee Willie Winkie, who would take me away to some kind of labor camp for children if I wasn't in bed when he came knocking.
My routine revolved around television for the most part. The news in the morning until Dad left for work, then a few kids shows until lunch time, mum would watch her soaps in the afternoon and then we'd all watch the same shows at night: Gilligan's Island, Barnaby Jones, Ironside, etc.
This might sound bizarre, but I can pinpoint the day I learned about time, and it was this food poisoning day.
I came to after having been passed out for what seemed like forever. I thought that I had gone to bed at night, yet when I woke up it was night time again. Somehow I'd slept through the whole day. I came out of my bedroom which adjoined the living room to see Gilligan's Island on TV, and the confusion it caused me had my parents giggling away. I was horribly disoriented. Gilligan's Island was something that happened after supper. Supper was something that happened when Dad got home from work. Dad got home from work after the soaps, etc. Yet here I was, a whole day gone, and in my experience none of the event triggers leading up to Gilligan's Island had occurred. It was then that somebody told me it was 7:30.
And at 5 years old I became aware in the most acute and disturbing way that time does not stop, even when you're sleeping.
Since then I've had a few more disturbing revelations concerning time.
I've learned that when you're 16 years old, grade 7 is an era, grade 6 is an era, and the summer between grade 6 and 7 is yet another era. But when you're coming up on 40 years old, then it seems your 20s were an era, your 30s were an era. Somehow the cognizant realization of time hits warp factor 9, and 10 years seem to pass as quickly as a year in school or a summer at the lake.
I've found a way to stem this though, to slow it down so that a summer lasts almost forever again. The secret? Relax. Work less. Play more. If you work a lot, and can't change it, then you have to play a lot more.
I push myself to a state of complete and utter exhaustion every day all summer, every summer. Just because I'm stuck in a little cup of time-space doesn't mean that I can't alter it. I'm going to scramble things up a bit. This year I'm starting summer in the spring. I won't finish it until the fall. And I will play people, and I will play hard.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
39 Winters Rant.
The build up to this rant really began about 2 weeks ago. Nevertheless it's been an omnipresent irritation for a long time now.
Here's the deal.
Chronologically I'm pushing 40. Now whether it's arrested adolescence, Peter Pan syndrome or simply a deep seated joie de vivre, I do not behave like a 40 year old.
Most of the people that I work with are in their 20s and I relate to them quite well. In fact, I think it would be safe to say that most of them are more mature than I am. They all work with me day in and day out and I think they know me well enough to realize that I'm not going through some midlife crisis. I think they know that I genuinely have never had my enthusiasm for silliness dampened or lost. Other 40ish acquaintances of mine like to rib me about my leisure activities. They seem to think that biking and skateboarding are ridiculous notions and attempts to gain back some kind of youth. I have nothing to gain back however. I never gave up these kind of pursuits at any point. I never made the attempt to grow up and be responsible that they did.
The people that know me best know that I'm a big kid, with a big kid's enthusiasm for pretty much anything fun, and a big kid's disdain for anything not fun.
So on to the past couple of weeks. I'm in Vancouver, looking for a new MP3 player for Janet, and absolutely refusing to buy into another Apple device. In a glass case behind the counter they had an MP3 player by Sony called a Wearable Walkman. I asked the clerk if I could see 'that walkman thingy' and some jerk next to me laughed and said 'you're showing your age'. Initially I thought he was making fun of me using the term thingy, but then I realized he thought I was calling all MP3 players 'walkmans'. I showed him the package and asked for his thoughts on it and when he saw that it actually was a "Walkman" he got a little sheepish.
Fast forward to one week later (or skip to the next track I should say.) Janet and I are in the store and I see a Wii game out of the corner of my eye that I thought the kids would like, called Sega Superstars Tennis. I asked Janet to hand me the Sega game, and she laughed at me and said "It's a WII game, not a Sega game,we don't have a Sega!" and then she made a comment about me getting old and mixing up my decades. I pointed out that Sega still produces software, although they don't produce consoles anymore and asked her again to pass me the Sega game.
Now to wrap up this little rant. I don't feel old. I have more energy than I had when I was 18, I'm in better shape than I was when I was 18, I don't feel that I gave up any of my youth to become an adult. In fact trying to fit into the adult world of responsibilities and commitments is and always has been a monumental struggle for me. The only time that I do feel even close to 40, is when somebody comments on my behaviour, interests etc as being for someone younger. Screw that.
Here's the deal.
Chronologically I'm pushing 40. Now whether it's arrested adolescence, Peter Pan syndrome or simply a deep seated joie de vivre, I do not behave like a 40 year old.
Most of the people that I work with are in their 20s and I relate to them quite well. In fact, I think it would be safe to say that most of them are more mature than I am. They all work with me day in and day out and I think they know me well enough to realize that I'm not going through some midlife crisis. I think they know that I genuinely have never had my enthusiasm for silliness dampened or lost. Other 40ish acquaintances of mine like to rib me about my leisure activities. They seem to think that biking and skateboarding are ridiculous notions and attempts to gain back some kind of youth. I have nothing to gain back however. I never gave up these kind of pursuits at any point. I never made the attempt to grow up and be responsible that they did.
The people that know me best know that I'm a big kid, with a big kid's enthusiasm for pretty much anything fun, and a big kid's disdain for anything not fun.
So on to the past couple of weeks. I'm in Vancouver, looking for a new MP3 player for Janet, and absolutely refusing to buy into another Apple device. In a glass case behind the counter they had an MP3 player by Sony called a Wearable Walkman. I asked the clerk if I could see 'that walkman thingy' and some jerk next to me laughed and said 'you're showing your age'. Initially I thought he was making fun of me using the term thingy, but then I realized he thought I was calling all MP3 players 'walkmans'. I showed him the package and asked for his thoughts on it and when he saw that it actually was a "Walkman" he got a little sheepish.
Fast forward to one week later (or skip to the next track I should say.) Janet and I are in the store and I see a Wii game out of the corner of my eye that I thought the kids would like, called Sega Superstars Tennis. I asked Janet to hand me the Sega game, and she laughed at me and said "It's a WII game, not a Sega game,we don't have a Sega!" and then she made a comment about me getting old and mixing up my decades. I pointed out that Sega still produces software, although they don't produce consoles anymore and asked her again to pass me the Sega game.
Now to wrap up this little rant. I don't feel old. I have more energy than I had when I was 18, I'm in better shape than I was when I was 18, I don't feel that I gave up any of my youth to become an adult. In fact trying to fit into the adult world of responsibilities and commitments is and always has been a monumental struggle for me. The only time that I do feel even close to 40, is when somebody comments on my behaviour, interests etc as being for someone younger. Screw that.
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