Category: Blogger Post

My hair grows so fast. It’s something that I inherited from my mother. In three weeks, it’s time to get another cut. I used to go to high school with a guy who scheduled out his haircuts to be exactly three weeks apart from each other. Meaning, he would schedule it at the time of getting his current haircut. I can’t do that with the way that my mind works. I’d forget. I much more the type that monitors how things look in the mirror and go from there. Of course, the way I “style” my hair, I can kinda conceal the need. I can feel that I need a haircut versus looking like I need one.

I found a little place in the west end to get my haircut about a month ago. It was cheap, kind of a hole in the wall, and a small operation. The woman was really nice, but her accent made it difficult to understand her at times. I left pretty satisfied with what she did, but now that it’s grown out, you can see what’s lacking in her talents. Back in Iowa City, I got my hair done at a school for hairstyling and never got a cut as wild as this one. At least there, you knew these people were getting an education in what they were doing. I’m not sure what this woman had.

I understand now what I was told a long time ago by a guy who does this professionally for some big bucks. You know a good haircut when it grows out and still looks good. My hair goes afro as it grows out, but it’s strangely bizarre this time around. It only cost me twelve bucks, but for about half that price, I could get a pretty good cut from beauty school students. I’ve walked passed such a place here in the west end. It makes me curious.

For the past week, it has been beautiful in Vancouver. Lots of clear skies and plenty of sun. Today, it’s raining. And yet, I can’t say that I’m overly sad to have it be that way. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Rain is just apart of everyday life here. If you can’t handle rainy days, you can’t handle Vancouver.

On my run today, the clouds were dancing with the mountains. You couldn’t see the tops very well, and the base was pretty much obstructed from view. The snow had returned though. Most of it had retreated to the caps, leaving the the dark green of the trees to color the rest of the mountain.

What still gets me is the night sky. When you look up there, you can see the lights glowing high above what used to be what I perceived as a horizon. It’s the ski hills being lit for the nighttime skiers. If you had a good pair of binoculars, it would be easier to spot someone heading down the mountain with a nice trail of powder behind them, depending how fresh the snow is up there. It’s too cool. And it’s a shame that I don’t have a clue as to how to ski. I can’t even say much for my skills as an ice skater, but I already know that I’m better at that.

Rebecca has gotten me into reality TV more than I think I want to admit. There is something to be said about the types of such things that are out there and just what kinds it is that I can stomach. Holmes on Homes is completely one of these things, but it’s better than a lot of the other junk that’s out there. Sure, Ty Pennington is good at bring the comfort of Sears to those who need it most, but Mike Holmes is all that plus Bob Vila. Let’s not forget to mention that he can probably bench press both of those guys at the same time. The guy is simply huge.

The list doesn’t end there though. Yes, I watched the finale of The Apprentice last night. It was entertaining. Some really good television on top of the winner being not such a nice guy as once might originally thought. Donald Trump has done wonders for himself and his empire with that show alone. And yes, I watched nearly the entire, fifth season of America’s Next Top Model. Granted that it has the flavor of the most horrible reality TV show that has existed and started this whole craze, but at least these people are competing for something that is more than just money and fifteen minutes of fame. So in essence, it’s like Survivor and Real World mushed together with model caliber girls. Notice I didn’t say “pretty girls” because it doesn’t seem that you have to be “pretty” to be a model anymore. You don’t have to be skeleton skinny either.

It’s all in how you are entertained. If you enjoy watching something, I have to say that it’s pretty Ok to enjoy whatever you want to enjoy. Hell, I still like to watch Queer Eye for the Straight Guy whenever I can. Not having a DVR that can record it for me kinda hampers that. At least I’m not so into it that I’m like my brother who scored $50 for picking the winner on Survivor. I can’t say that I like a show that much.

The amount of wildlife around here nearly makes up for the lack of snow that I’m going to enjoy this christmas. What snow was in the surrounding areas of the lower mainland is close to being completely gone. That’s not to say that it is a tad cold outside. Being this far north, the amount of daily sunlight is slightly less than what Iowa gets this time of year. When I go running around the seawall in the morning, you have to be careful in the areas where you can tell that the sea water has crashed up onto the pathway. It ices over just slightly enough that you can break through the top when you step on it. It’s still slippery underneath though, so you have to really keep your eyes peeled.

Frost is enough to send people into a telephone poll or falling down on their butt. There is that element of being surprised. The fact that you just weren’t ready for there to be this stretch of pavement somewhere that has this gentle, slippy layer of water that condense into a solid form over night. It looks like snow almost, but it’s not. Combine that with steep inclines and hills, and you have a perfect mix for being stranded until the sun burns it all off or the somewhat rare sand truck comes by your side street to offer you some help. Obviously downtown, these events are much more rare.

I’ve been really concentrating on my podcasting lately that I’ve kinda neglected my blogging responsibilities. It’s the one thing that I can consistently rely on to keep me preoccupied until everything finally comes through with the government regarding my job. I’m on a push to publicize the whole thing more and more in the hopes of gaining more listeners, but that’s not as easy as you would think. The iTunes Podcast Directory is riddled with issues regarding their submissions, but the crazy thing is that I submitted my feed to them on nearly the same day that it debuted. That was months ago. And today, still nothing.

I’m not even sure what I’m doing in the land of the internet really reaches anyone, but I still like to do it anyway. Things might slow down greatly once work becomes an everyday element in my life, but I like to think that I’ll find the time to do what I enjoy when I can. Of course, the whole learning curve to the new job and all will infringe on my time. It’ll all work out in the end. I’m just trying to keep doing what I’m doing until Canada decides it likes me being here.

Some nights ago, we watched Hotel Rwanda on TV. I find it sad that it took a movie to help me understand more about what actually happened there when it did even though I can completely recall the whole event taking place in the 90’s. And sure, you might know about it and say to yourself that it was indeed awful. Maybe shake your head recalling it. “Boy, that was tragic.” Don’t feel too worried though. That was the same reaction that people gave the situation when the pictures of thousands of people were lying dead in the streets due to genocide came into their homes.

I remember when I went to Dachau as a teenager. The whole experience was down right frightening. At the start of the complex, there is a sign that reads “Never Again” in a variety of different languages. It makes you wonder what that means. The people who were instrumental in stopping those atrocities turned a blind eye when the conflict in Rwanda sparked off. In fact, it’s scary to really sit down and think about the variety of incidents relating to genocide that have happened since the days of the nazis. Perhaps it’s not on the same level, but it still is happening again and again.

It’s no secret that I do enjoy cooking. Most guys tend to either shy away from the whole affair or dive into it quite deeply, unless you’re like my buddy Adam who recently decided that his marriage has proven that if he were to enlist in a culinary school, that won’t make him appear to be gay. Now I’m not sure what his definition of being gay is, but with the way that he dresses, acts, and is as an all around human being, I just do not think that the guy could ever pass for being more straight than he already is. Regardless, he is married to a soon to be PhD in some sort of chemistry something or rather. This is the part where I want to add a nice pun about the two of them cooking something up in the kitchen, but I won’t.

I have to say that the months leading up to my departure from Iowa, I wasn’t the most creative with the food that I was eating. I like tuna, and that is incredibly easy to make. Simply take it out of the can and eat it. Yes, I know that’s gross to some, but it’s incredibly appealing to me. Plus it was easy. Coming home from work late at night, sometimes that’s all you want. Now I find the bug is coming back to me. Amazing how burning your thumb can actually make you want to cook.

There’s a show on HGTV that I’ve found myself strangely addicted to. Holmes on Homes is one of those shows that are incredibly helpful with making you educated about not only purchasing a home, but also improving your home. And now, I am totally scared of ever owning a house. I’d like to think that by watching Mike Holmes do his thing, I’m learning something. Still, this addiction that I have for this program can’t teach you everything there is to know about not getting screwed by contractors. There are sick and twisted people in this world that will take you for a ride, no matter how much you think you can trust them.

Then there’s that part of me that wants to be like Mike Holmes. More so, to do the type of work that he does. It just looks fun. Granted that it’s a lot of grueling work, but I’m sure I could learn the trade. However, I made tandoori chicken last night in the oven and now have this blister on the tip of my thumb from where I burned myself while taking the chicken out. When I look at this puss filled bump, I tend to wonder how I’d survive in that business after all the rest of the mishaps and ouch things that I’ve encountered in life. I even get hurt cooking.

Back home, there is nearly four inches of snow on the ground. That’s just over ten centimeters for all you metrics out there. In fact, I’m included in that group now. I’m hardly used to it yet. It’s really strange around here when it comes to snow though. Here on the west end, the climate is vastly different than it is just miles, or kilometers, inland. Now this is easily explained once you understand how close the ocean is in relation to downtown. That huge body of water out there maintains this comfortable, warm cloud of air around the area just around the inlet. Either go up in elevation slightly or head inland, even New Westminster, and there is the unusual amounts of snow that is more common to the area in January or February. It’s pretty when it snows around here, but that just makes the ground wet and doesn’t stick around very long.

The neatest thing did happen to me today on my nearly daily run. Albeit not the smartest thing, it still struck me. Cutting back through Stanley Park, this plump, grey squirrel popped out of nowhere and started bounding towards me. Like most small rodents, I thought it would trail off and move away from me. I had a horrible side ache and was walking at this point, but the squirrel angled towards me instead of away from me. I stopped, couched down, and stuck my hand out. Stupid move, I know, but this was too crazy. I knew it just wanted some food, and its nose touched the index finger on my right hand while checking me out for a snack. That was it. I turned and walked away, and it just turned to the pile of leaves near the walkway and forged for something to eat. I broke back into my stride and went home.

There are certain things in this world that shouldn’t have to be explained. Sharing the sidewalk has to be one of them. This is one overly huge issue I find myself consistently frustrated with while walking the streets of Vancouver. Yes, this is an incredibly friendly city when it comes to walking, biking, and even rollerblading. In fact, I was told that it’s quite common within the city for sidewalks to be constructed where paths have been worn into areas that are covered with grass. That could be city code, a low of some sort, or something I’m completely making up, but I swear I was told this. It’s great. It’s like I’m back in college, walking all over campus to get anywhere and everywhere. When you are a poor college student, that’s what you have to do. These days I seem to prefer walking.

However, when it comes to walking, there is this one issue that pains me to no end. It shouldn’t be that difficult to understand that one should share the sidewalk, no matter how many people are in your group. Some days are worse than others, and certain parts of town are more notorious than others. Regardless, five people walking side by side is a far too common thing to have coming at you as you are walking in the opposite direction. They see you. They make eye contact with you. You are not invisible. You are a living, breathing, walking human being coming right at this group of fellow pedestrians.

They don’t move a budge. They don’t let you go through or make an attempt to be polite by making some space on the sidewalk. They simply don’t share. Sometimes you have no choice but to step off the curb and let this mass of a sidewalk monster go by you. And then, you prepare for the next one, only to let your anger flare and prepare to drop your shoulder the next time it happens.