Category: Blogger Post

I know I’ve been completely missing in action lately, but there goes time spans where writers block rolls in one and a while. I can be on one of my numerous running routes, singing in the shower, or doing something at work when I think of something to write about. However, when I sit down to actually do something, I go blank. I’d rather let my mind unwind watching one of the many FX series that I have found myself addicted to lately or catch a Cubs game. Work has been busy lately. So much so that I found myself pretty sick on Tuesday of this past week. It wasn’t fun, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.

One of the reasons I’m even sitting down to type this right now is due to the fact that my ATM card is gone. I was supposed to get some dinner with some friends when the machine decided that I didn’t deserve to have my card back. I could see it as the machine tried to give it back to me, but it was sitting in the slot just out of reach. “Your card has been confiscated.” Wonderful. It gave it two tries to give it back to me and decided to keep it.

People wonder what I mean about my dumb luck. This is exactly what I mean.

There’s a place near the station that I’ve become a regular. It’s a simple gas station with a little place you can get good sandwiches, a nice fountain drink, and all the junk food that your heart desires. I don’t think it’s the close location that I enjoy or the selection. In fact, the selection isn’t the greatest, but it is “convenient.” The people there have come to know the people from the station. And they’re not hardcore lovers or listeners to the station, but they do tune in from time to time. I just enjoy the people there. They know my name. They have that homeland flare that only comes with the territory that I call home.

It reminds me of the town I grew up. The hardware store where I got a few bikes from, ran over to get things we needed for the shop while I worked from my parents, and they seemed to have everything you’d ever need, but you had to ask some one where it was at or else you’d never find it.

“Well shit, John… what the hell do you want now?”

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that phrase until the day I die.

After a while, you have to accept the fact that you are a blogger. Yes, that is indeed what is going on here. Lots of people do it. Sometimes they do it everyday, many times a day, or at their leisure. I mean, there’s nothing here that is news worthy or enlightening other than just the senseless musings I throw up here when it strikes me to write about something that’s on my mind and I want to share. However, there are other people who do this blogging thing much differently. At times, I try to comprehend where I fit into this whole mess of things that are out there.

I really enjoy checking out and reading other peoples blogs, and perhaps I should do a better job linking to them in the effort of spreading the linking love that runs around so commonly among the blogging world. Some of these people make what I’m doing here look like nothing compared to the layouts and the details they share from their lives. I’m not saying I’m gonna change, but it also makes me wonder who’s reading this anyway?

Not like I’m going to stop anytime soon, but I’ve been doing this a long while now. It’s amazing how much time has passed.

It has been painfully hot lately. Forgive me while I take a moment to talk about the one thing that every single person in the world has in common, but the weather is amazing right now. Heat. Hot. Sun. That is what we have here these days. A little while ago, the power blinked in my apartment. I’m trying my best to conserve energy and do very little that will cause another blip. Running in the mornings is getting to the point where it’s best to go when the sun is barely above the horizon. This is summer. 90 degrees nearly everyday.

Alex is eleven today. He was the first of many little people who call me uncle. Seems uncanny, but less than the reality of the fact that I’m getting older.

It’s that time of year again. For the first time in five years, I’m not apart of the fun. Sorting, packing, sorting, sweating, hauling… I’m not moving. I actually really got used to moving. It became on of those yearly things. There’s a certain part of me that feels like I’m forgetting something. In fact, I’ve found myself looking at all the places for rent around town thinking that they would be a cool place to live. What’s the rent like? Wonder want kind of utilities might be included… Oh yeah, I already have an apartment for this next year. I don’t have to worry about it.

What really gets me is the waste people are putting out by the dumpsters. Perfectly good things that could be donated or taking to Goodwill. If you can haul it out and away, you can take it somewhere for some one who might be able to really use it. Clothes, books, CD racks… I just don’t understand it. I thought I moved away from the student ghettos to get away from this crap.

Getting back on central time has been difficult. Maybe that is stretching the truth just ever so slightly. It’s just hard to get back into the swing of things. Work isn’t the issue. I’m just keeping myself on the go with things that I haven’t had enough time to really keep the vacation that I had really sink it.

Part of it has to stem from the adventure through Chicago on the return trip. Flying on stand by isn’t for the weak. More so, it becomes really difficult when the weather decides to cause havoc with arrivals and departures to one of the busiest airports in the world. It was hot and sunny in Chicago when the plane left the ground in British Columbia. As we were making our way down to the ground, the captain relayed that the temperature had dropped by twenty degrees and the sky had turned rainy. A cold front blew through.

On the ground, I was told that there were no more flights going out that I could squeeze myself onto. Eventually, I made it home much later than I anticipated, but I would have to wait a day to pick up my bag which arrived in the state sooner than I did. In fact, it went to a different place than me all together. I’m young and can handle it. I just feel for those who were not as able to run all over the airport from gate to gate just to make that connecting flight. Seriously, while sitting on the plane waiting to push away from the gate, you could see back into the terminal the hundreds of people running… not hurrying… but running to their respective gates.

I love traveling.

It seems fitting that I’m sitting on the plane right now only to be sipping on Canada Dry Ginger Ale. It wasn’t my plan, I swear. I just kind of figured that since I only ate a blueberry scone and a cup of coffee this morning at the airport, this would be a good thing to hold me over until I land in Chicago. Time will shift on me by two hours and it’ll be dinner time when I get there. Then I have to make some sudden adjustments, wake up tomorrow morning, and go back to work at the station. It doesn’t seem real. In fact, it doesn’t really seem fair.

Vancouver is simply amazing. Rebecca took me to see so much and do so many things, but it really wasn’t as much as the city has to offer. Ate so many different types of food, saw so many different places and things… Spent the day at Cultus Lake where we swam in clear, fresh, cold water that runs down from the mountains. Walked and drove from one end of the city to the other. Ventured close to the coastline numerous times to hear the water lapp against the shore and smell the ocean air. Had dinner and drinks while meeting new friends. I cannot say that I did a lot of things to say that I did such and such thing while I was in Vancouver, but I saw and experienced as much as I could. To me, that’s more important. Plus I just loathe being a tourist.

There’s a lot more to say about the city, but it’s truly hard to convey. Sure, every place has its pitfalls; Vancouver is not heaven on earth where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is perfect all the time. What I can say is that it leaves me desiring very little else because everything I have seen and heard has been better than all of my expectations ever had about the city. What really trips me up is the fact that this is another country. The money is different. It’s washroom, not restroom. Hippy takes on a whole new meaning, yet alone different classifications. And I think I went to Starbucks nearly every single day. Amazing, I know, but there is something to be said about a good chi tea latte in the afternoon. It’s safe to say that this city loves its coffee.

I’m not ready to go back to my really real world. I feel like I have totally dropped off the fact of the earth and lost touch with what’s going on with the rest of the world. This is what taking a holiday should be like. Just letting everything drift away and getting lost in nothing but having a good time relaxing and taking in life. With company like I had while I was in Vancouver, it’d be next to impossible to not have something like that happen. It was up until yesterday that I forgot that I had to go back to Iowa. Tomorrow it all starts up again.

And so continues the adventure.

Today is the last day here. It seems as if I just got here, but I feel like I’ve been here for a lot longer than I have. It’s no surprise to me as to why things feel so comfortable here. Sure, this is a large city with so much going on and plenty of things to see and do, but it doesn’t feel like a metropolis as much as some of the other places I have seen in my life. New York hustles and moves at a hectic pace. So does Washington D.C., Mexico City, Tokyo, Yokohama, or the likes. Vancouver does in its own right, but it just feels different. It’s hard to explain other than to say that it flows. From walking to biking to driving, it all works. It’s comfortable. More so, that’s what it seems to me.

Canada is the country I have lived the closest to my entire life, and it has taken me this long to finally get up here. I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. It is absolutely beautiful here. I guess the days leading up to my arrival has been some of the wettest summers in history. Have yet to experience that. Everything else I have seen and done has been great. Rebecca has made my time here more memorable than I could ever hoped for or imagined. Everyday kicks off with a general idea of what to do and the day ends with lots of territory covered. She’s shown me a lot of the city and I already want to come back for more.

I wanted to do more posting while I’ve been here, but I just couldn’t get myself to sit down in front of my laptop long enough to get it all done. In fact, I’m meeting Rebecca for lunch soon during her break at work. Then I’m off to wander around downtown and just see what’s around. I’ll have to post this later.

At 38,000 feet, somewhere over Montana or Idaho… or somewhere… I’ve had a panic attack. I think I forgot my ipod at home. That’s such a horrible feeling. Sure, I can live without it for a week, but it’s amazing to realize how built in to my life it has become. And suddenly I feel myself hoping that I did indeed leave it behind and it wasn’t jacked from my bag somewhere between there and floating in midair.

It’s difficult to sit here in business class and type this with out wanting to rock out in my seat while listening to what I can on my laptop. I’m rocking out while other folks read the Wall Street Journal or do other important looking things. I’m off on holiday. What’s not to rock out about?

It’s been a tough past forty-eight hours. When you’re going on a trip, there’s so much to do before you actually leave. Life and work ramps up before the vacation can really begin. Then you’re so wiped out that you need the beginning to the vacation to kinda catch up and get ready for the rest of it. Then once you’re ready for that, vacation is over. Time to go back to the real life grind and you need another holiday to regroup from the vacation. Such a vicious cycle.

I’m off to Vancouver. Yeah, British Columbia. Canada. I’ve lived life this long and never been to the country north of home. I have to keep telling myself that this is an international trip. I keep freaking out as to if I’ve forgot my passport or not. Everyone I talk to tell me that I’ll love it there. “It’s your kind of town.” I’m not sure what that means, but I am pretty sure it’s going to be a wonderful time that will go by faster than I want it to.