Leave it alone.

I am afraid. So afraid. I've never been afraid of anything in this world as I am right now. Which says a lot because I have a pretty open mind to the endless possibilities of scary things out there: nuclear war, alien invasion, tainted meat, global warming, saturated fats, ghosts, conservative majorities, God, finding myself with the wrong girl, genetically modified foods, arthritis, drug shortages, caffeine addictions, water shortages, China, future milk prices, cancer, being alone.

Companionship. That, I think, is the #1 thing in this world that the human soul desires most. The ability to find someone to be there with you when times are tough. In sickness and in health is how the vow goes... well, for many... eventually. Sometimes. The majority of both men & women alike will eventually strive to be able to return to that 1 person that is their world. Comfort in monogamy will finally trump the perceived necessity of not being “tied down” once they get the kink out of their system; once they think they've found their soul mate. To find that significant person and then be able to build, sculpt, intensify, and deepen your understanding of one another's most inner thoughts, feelings, and beliefs is what one of the penultimate keys is to finding happiness. “He completes me”, I think, is the line from the movie. And to be able to find this kind of love early on in life (high school sweethearts? mid-20s?, before 40??) is also a lot to be thankful for --- especially with constantly escalating divorce rates and rapidly declining numbers of 50 or 40 or 30 year marriages. "Without love, breathing is just the ticking of an unwinding clock counting down the time it takes for you to comprehend the sheer magnitude of every single precious breath you've ever wasted!” is the line from the song. But more than that, without love, LIFE is truly pointless. Comfort counts for a lot. Tenderness. Patience. Commitment. In this 21^st Century, sex-crazed, zero-attention spa-- wha? Oh yeah: youth are losing the understanding of what it takes to, well, love.

Love starts at home. Parenting. I've said it once, I'll say it again: blame the parents. Not the teachers, not the 'other kids', not the governments or the internet. It's the babies having babies that must instill the values and grace into our future generations before anything else. Sure, social safety nets provided by the government can play a role in deciding how easy it will be for a parent to raise a child (subsidize everything) especially for the low-incomers. Our babies will learn respect, temperance, and integrity from home. You cannot love outside of the home without living with love inside the home first. If we learn how to truly love at home, then there might be hope on this planet for future generations.

  

It must be understood that the time we have to love on this insane planet is truly a blessing. Too many tragic occurrences happen every single day for all the wrong reasons (or no reason at all) to think otherwise. Too many selfless acts go punished, too many generous causes are exploited... All of it can go away in a SNAP. Just. Like. That. Look outside your window right now: Yes, that is a nuclear bomb mushroom cloud over Calgary thanks to a trigger-happy Kim Jong Un. Yes, that is Hurricane Veronica hooking up with another nor'easter to destroy more of the New England coastline. I mean Cuba. Errr... Mexico. Vancouver? Well, those riots will go down in history but otherwise it will be remembered as a generally affluent, friendly town ever since that San Andreas fault slipped and that tidal wave devastated all coastal cities on the pacific. But still, you are doing OK.Then? Tomorrow morning after dodging out between parked cars to catch the bus for your morning commute - WHAM! Damn'. Smite down in your tracks. By a Ford F-350. No time for regrets or apologies. Too late to be contrite, to repent. Just darkness. Despite seemingly endless catastrophes all around the world, your world was a miracle. You were blessed.  Life is more than biology. It is cherishing. Remembering. Devoting  & dedicating. For reasons pre-supposing any science that we will ever be able to comprehend, we are put on this earth to do all those things. We were put on this earth to love. 

In our lifetime, we may or may not have the opportunity to meet our soul mate. But that's okay because the last time I checked, the soul was not listed in any anatomy book I ever saw. So it's not real? Does emotion and the ability to reason extend as far as we need it in order to appreciate the fact that this thing called a soul is actually nothing more than a sneaky little biochem trick? If that's so, a soul-mate is ridiculous and we might as well be happy to satisfy the voids in our lives with any one or any thing as often as we deem necessary: hookers & blow, frequent unsafe sex, smoking wild, drinking like a scotsman, pillage! rape! destroy! burn!  murder! murder! Murder! Take everything, give nothing back. No. We are logical yes, but it's our intuition that exists only because we do indeed have a soul. It's nothing you can see - it's deep, deep down there. Beyond the shame, doubt, denial, pride, and pain. Our soul is composed of our ability to have faith and to love. That's why we inherently go on day after day interacting with others: for that hint of a spark of a chance that we might end up meeting that soul mate.         

Loneliness is a natural state of being as well. It's bound to happen! We get comfortable with the relationships we have built for ourselves: a certain proximity to family members, neighbors, work colleagues, former classmates, boyfriends and girlfriends. And at least some of these people that we let into our lives at some point – to whatever extent – will in one way or another leave our life again. Personally, I am only aware of one former school friend that has been murdered. It's an insane reality that no one would ever imagine would happen. The devastating loss of 18 and 25 year old cousins 9 years apart from each other is a loss that also makes a guy wish they had cherished that time with them just that tiny bit more as well. It goes on and on and each of our story's are unique but nonetheless just as invaluable for teaching the life lesson of love. Of  being there. Of not taking the people that come into our lives for granted. Of putting in that tad bit of extra effort to empathize with the hardships that some of these people might have. "But as for me? I was not put upon this earth to subjugate or serve!"  Dealing with loneliness is the trick of it. Keep on truckin'! Easier said than done for some more than others, for sure. Even if you feel you are totally alone, there are still others there that will tell you otherwise. Privacy is important to an extent, but neglecting people completely is never good. That uncle with the alcohol problem, the neighbor who lost his wife, the BFF who had months of depression after a bad bad break-up. They need you. I'll say it. To love them. To them to know that they are not alone in their hour of need and that with time things will get better.   

Without going into too much detail, I will say that this last bit is the part that I fear the worst right the fuck now. More than I fear saturated fats or alien invasions. The results from Mom's scan are probably about a week or 2 away. Whatever the results may be, it doesn't change the fact that ovarian cancer is a terminal disease that can only be treated to a certain extent. And the fact that we are more than 2 years into the low 5 year survival rate doesn't make me happy. Without Mom, I am indeed alone in this world and this world is scary when all alone. But for all intents and purposes, I put on a brave face because Mom needs me to be brave and put the value of her life - our life together for nearly 29 years - ahead of anything else. I think the knowledge of having a limited time left to enjoy loving and being loved is the only thing that can be worse than knowing that your future will indeed become very, very lonely.

My only other fear is that because of my fear of being alone, I will become complacent and resign myself to a life less ... possible. I used to live by the lyric "I could never swallow your ideals of a lifeless happy ending" but now I feel that out of fear, that's exactly what I'll do. I'll become what I hate. And hate myself after living a "wasted" life for it. This juxtaposition of feelings of wanting to find love in this world & not being alone yet wanting to clench on to any opportunities that might come my way in this amazing incredible world without having to be accountable to another person is something I guess I will just have to figure out. Unless someone out there can help figure it out with me...

ch. 118

Dad's Bad News

A while back I wrote about the necessity of extremism in today's world despite the endless common sense arguments about it. Everything in moderation especially moderation, right?

 I have also written about temperance, self control, and patience and how these are characteristics that do not exist any more.

Well this is a quick blog about these 2 key concepts and how they tie together on a very personal level for me anyways. A guy can truly be a pretty decent guy up until a certain point when everything just completely goes to shit. Hopefully the collateral damage is minimal...

 
I am a solitary person. Without my 'quiet time' I get too many bad ideas all jumbled up in my head. I spend time sequestered away, searching for that far-removed piece of my mind that will give me "peace" of mind cannot be done with too many distractions. But even with all my stoic seriousness, harsh cynicism, bitter understanding of the state of the world , I still like to have a good time too. I have a decent sense of humour for both tasteless, vulgar low-brow humour PLUS old-fashioned cheesy (yet classic) comedy like those george and harriett radio programmes from the 1940s. I like the act of drinking and feeling utterly inebriated and I like the thought of having a passionate conviction for a straight edge lifestyle. Even abandoning eating meat for the right reasons is intriguing but virtually unrealistic here in Alberta. Heck, being a (meat eating) environmentalist in Alberta is probably the biggest example of hypocritical extremism there could be. No wonder my head is such a mess.

 
Now here I am listening to The Circle Jerks "live fast, die young" and thinking about all the "living" that is out there for the taking. I'm sitting here reflecting on my friend Andrew's decision to take his own life just about 2 years ago as suicide Prevention week winds up. I am thinking about my cousin whose life ended on this day --- shit --- 16 years ago?!?! I think about "family" and what that means to different people (especially my own), what it means to me, and how I feel about being alone in this world, country, province, city, neighborhood, house once mom's treatments cease to be affective. She wants nothing more than to Just Live. And the World is pretty against that for most people with ovarian cancer.

I think a lot about mental health and how a strong character-type who is truthful to himself should be his own best judge of deciding if external guidance / counseling is required. Who amongst ANY of us has a sound enough mind to determine whether a need for advanced psychiatric help/pills are required. Isn't committing to see a shrink only reaffirming your own resolve that you NEED that person in your life to share things with? Is there anyone listening to this beautiful tragedy?!?! So you pay this Arts Degree toting psychologist or social worker your hard-earned money for them to HEAR (not listen) to your ramblings and ravings. And you do this instead of paying a hooker (like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman) to do the same damn' thing.

 
Lucky for me I have been patient enough to never have defaulted to lowering my standards/"destressing" with a hooker and as a result I now have an amazing woman in my life. She gives me the strength and motivation I need to: A) be a better man to the few important people I do have in my life and B) I need to have to be able to talk to about shtuff when things are not good.

 
This has been a lot to try and piece together in my head but I think it goes back to the latin phrase used in Law: Mens Rea, being of a sound mind. I need to do this to tell myself that I am indeed here and very much alive and that bi-polar disorder and depression are sicknesses that shouldn't be screwed around with. In the end, I think my temperance and character and having Erin in my life will be enough for me to not go off the deep end or taking things to all new extremes like buying zebra print pants or sailing around the world. I hope I remain being a pretty decent guy for years to come.

 I hope I'm not late for my appointment the the shrink tomorrow...

Chapter 97.

A saner mane would have used a bigger amp.

Professional Punkers, you say...

I think in life I try to seek too many meanings in things. I tend to interpret the most obvious things that do not require any form of interpretation whatsoever. Double-meanings. Hidden messages. The idiocy and brilliance of oxy-morons. I try to turn black white and stone to dust. I also have a bad habit of hearing what I want to hear rather than what the information is actually telling me. In the end, it is all just bad.

One day in my on-going search for understanding of all the disparity in a despairing world, I came across a particularly poignant phrase that I haven't been able to kick. In the 80s hardcore scene, a band called stretch marks made a song called Professional Punk. Last year, who else but NOFX covered this song and released it on a covers project.

What a concept, hey? Professional punkers. I guess I heard the term before on pump up the valuum but only now am I seeing the relevance, potential in it.

To me, it can mean 2 totally different things: A) a professional punk is someone that is so punkassmotherfuckerbatshitcrazy and fits every last stereotype of a punk rock lifestyle. The beer gut, the ugly DOA tattoo from when he was 17, the missing teeth, the smell, the studs EVERYWHERE, the inverted mohawk, the "no future" mentality, the ANARCHY NOW! mentality, the smoker who finished highschool with ease but hates and ridicules the very idea of higher education, breaks the law when he can, shotguns lucky lager 6 packs at least 4 afternoons a week... or B) a professional punk is someone who has some form of professional designation in a society built (and thriving) on class war. This person could be an engineer or an agrologist. A dentist or a nurse. Lawyers? Hell ya! Harry Corn was a pretty punkass lawyer - and she's a republican! Whatever the profession may be, the trick is to continue to embrace at least the finer aspects of punk life.

To me, those aspects would include:

• "think for yourself"
• "question authority"
• "DIY"
• "brotherhood"
• "strength"
• "resist control"
• and "ANARCHY NOW!" of course. 

There are indeed many incompatibilities between punks and professionals. Professionals tend to accept the "system" for what it is at face value and do nothing but reap the benefits of belonging to a higher socio-economic class and being at less of a risk of "falling through the cracks" or having a stronger safety net to catch him if anything bad ever does happen. Punks give'r hard and hope for the best - with only the knowledge that it can all turn to complete shit in a heartbeat.

The Dropkick Murphys is probably the most famous band that is clearly distinguishable from its blue-collar politics and attitude. This is likely a factor of their huge success over the past 20 years. And DIY SoCal band Pulley had recently announced that it will be playing some rare Alberta dates where the roughnecks and rednecks largely out number the professionals province-wide for sure. I don't imagine too many Ph. D's or accountants coming to mosh to Working Class Whore in December.  Did I ever mention that Edmonton has a great scene?!?

There are also individuals that are damn' good at their jobs and are called 'professionals' as a result of that. Good Will Hunting is the guy I think of when it comes to having pride in a job well done; however underappreciated that job might be. In hospitals, the men and women that mop up the ... messes... are said to work in Environmental Services. The stranger that raises your CHILDREN before and after school while you work earns $11.50 an hour and often has some form of diploma in Child Services or ... an Arts degree. I am a firm believer 

that if you can embrace and commit to some cause to such an extent that it will improve the lives of others around you, then you are truly a professional at the core.

I tell myself that I am NOT a hypocrite by working towards establishing a comfortable young professional's lifestyle while still having deep-rooted ideals in many anti-establishment philosophies and concepts. And it's funny how a guy's idea of "simple, comfortable living within his means" can change, dreams & goals can start to shine, when he gets the slightest bit of confidence that there could be someone special out there who might share some of these same ideals that he has. Chapter 120.

 "BRILLIANT? A word describing something dummmbbbbb..."     

-nofx

Family Matters

 Family Matters could be in the running for one of the Top 10 sit-coms of the late 80s and early 90s: better than Who's the Boss but not quite as good as Fresh Prince. This show has probably ended up consuming at least a good 150 hours of my life. Maybe 300. But you know what? I'm not a worse person because of it. Sit-coms in general, are a mindless escape from the busyness (and more frequently: the devastations) of the reality of life. And more often than not, this chill time  watching TV gave this kid a break from running around, tearing up the neighborhood, getting involved with all sorts of melarchyand gave me something to unwind with, focus on, and even laugh at a bit before doing any homework or having a bath or going to hockey practice or whatever else it is that us kids did back then.

Thinking back now though, Family Matters really had a lot of things going for it: a large and extended family constantly dealing with a wide range of real life problems that any white adolescent boy in Canada could would have no problem at all empathizing with (I mean, how long can a geeky guy go on trying to get with a total babe like Laura!). 

And now - maybe 20 years later - I am fully appreciating the fact that family does indeed matter. 

My family has been pretty tight-knit over the years. All 2 of us. And a total of 3 dogs in that time as well (<--- I would have a hyper link to my dog Lacey if she was "tagged in photos" like you see everything nowadays. Outside of me & Mom, Grandmas made up my family: Mom's mom, Mom's friend's Mom, dad's Mom, and a few other old ladies too. Well they're all gone now. Grandpas too. My aunts are nice enough. Mom's one sister has been especially supportive these past 2 years since the diagnosis. So has her sister-in-law. Her brother has been in North America for about half the past 40 years with work. So yeah. A small, close family, with noone really to count on besides each other. **note to self: pick  up dog food before the end of the week.

Tsunami Bomb wrote "count on nobody and nobody will let you down". I have embraced these lyrics for a large part of my life. Not giving too much of myself to anyone for anything. Either just "make do", "do without", or "do it yourself". DIY, mo#$fu*@a!! And now it's become more apparent that I will eventually have even one less person to count on in life. With at least 1 other person, life, I think, is manageable. Bills, groceries, conversation... just regular boring every day stuff. But ovarian cancer is not a disease a person survives. Treatments are available, and sometimes treatments are on-going and remission of the disease is prolonged. But it always comes back. It's an incredibly tragic disease this way, and seeing just cancer in general in the way it affects the people diagnosed with it as well as those families with loved ones fighting it... just. sadness.

So now I truly whole-heartedly consciously openly happily embrace and cherish my family. I don't know who I am without it and heaven knows I am afraid to find out. 

All I know for sure is that I can live with regrets of time, money, and effort spent on doing things for myself, with friends, at work, or on girls, but I cannot live with regrets of having time with my family wasted away.

  


     

Let's End Cancer.

Before September, 2010 my understanding of cancer was limited mostly to the tragic story of Camrose teenager, Peter Jang who – you guessed it – fought a long, difficult battle with a rare form of cancer -lymphoblastic leukemia. My grandma passed away from a... hard life. I would estimate that about 50 years of smoking shortened that hard life. A good life – especially between 1984 and 1999 – but certainly not an easy one. Otherwise, to me, cancer has remained just one of those scary words that I have often tried to put out of my mind.

15 years later, the internet, networking, and medical progress has taken the scary word “cancer” to the mainstream. Ignoring this scary word and idea isn’t at all as possible with the prevalence of these 3 things, and the prevalence of cancer itself. Especially, I think, with an aging, “sickening” population – awareness and anger are both exploding. Here are some of the more blatant facts published by the Alberta Cancer Foundation, Ovarian Cancer Canada, and the Canadian Cancer Society that I have found interesting:

• Nearly 1 in 2 people will be diagnosed with some form of cancer in their lifetime (ACF)
• In 2011,1750 women died from ovarian cancer in Canada (CCS)
• In 2011, 2600 women were diagnosed with ovarian cancer in Canada (CCS)
• While 1 in 9 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer, only 1 in 70 women will be diagnosed with ovarian cancer (CCS)
• Most women diagnosed with ovarian cancer will be diagnosed with Stage III or IV because of the poor screening options and very subtle side effects. (OCC)
• 75% of women will see a recurrence of ovarian cancer. Longer treatment-free intervals coorespend to a better prognosis

• Breast cancer treatments are diverse and unique to each individual but may include:
• daily radiation 5 days a week for a month (in addition to:) 
• chemotherapy IV
• surgery
• complete mastectomy
• Ovarian cancer treatments are diverse and “case-by-case”:     
• Standard protocol:
• 6 – 8 hours of a chemotherapy cocktail one day over a 21 day cycle
• Repeat for 3 cycles
• Complete abdominal hysterectomy and hope for “ultimate debulking”
• Continue with 3 additional cycles
•  Wait. If >1 year before recurrence, then “standard protocol” is deemed effective and patient might benefit from this treatment again 
• At time of recurrence, other chemo drugs might be viable alternatives whether > 1 year cancer free or not
• Clinical trials are good but may or may not be available depending on: stage of cancer, previous treatment, any number of other things...

• Treatment is defined as being free from any sign of cancer after completing treatment for 5 years:
• Ovarian cancer 5 year survival rates is 15th out of a list of 23 cancers (Stats Canada)
• Breast cancer 5 year survival rates is 5th out of a list of 23 cancers (Stats Canada)

Family.

Family. These are the people who love you. Who take the time out of their own lives to stop and think about what's realllly, realllllly important in life – especially in adverse, tragic times. Some family is incredibly interested in learning about the intricacies and challenges of my Mom's cancer. So much of our family has been nothing but supportive and wishing they could only do more. Others would like to do more – at their own convenience. And some family have just outright ignored us. The more frustrating situations are when family members might ignorantly suggest, or have their own ideas about how the person living with cancer is, could be, or should be doing. Some people are clueless. Or selfish. But mostly, family has been great.

Friends.

Friends are great. Friends are the ones put into terribly awkward situations. Friends are the ones that never think it’s going to be their friend who gets sick. To me, it makes sense that friends would be more comfortable being perhaps a further step removed than the family that is typically there for the person going through any type of hardship. My comrades have been great. People from work, people from outside of work – they will try and distract me with positive energies or they will offer to help me do things to make life easier. Oh, and my Mom's friends are my friends too, and they have all been really damn' terrific. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

Mom.

Mom has been incredibly strong. She talks about how exhausted she is and I believe her. I think she is even more exhausted than she appears at times. This round, chemo treatments are weekly for 3 weeks in a row then 1 week off, so we really look forward to that 1 week off. She is still active and wanting to do more, but it’s just not possible. At this time, anyways. She is eating. The nausea is there – but not too, too bad. The anti-nausea meds are not covered. Nor are the medical supplies required to maintain her central line. She is dealing with all of this. It is a lot to deal with.

The central line is the most recent change that Mom has had to adjust to. A tube that goes into her chest and tucks up and around to administer chemotherapy directly into a vein next to her heart. This allows for stopping the weekly IV needles into her hand. The gemcitibine is made into a chemotherapy solution with a pH of 3.5 that is also irritating upon injection when done in the veins in the hand. But having 2 7” plastic tubes sticking out of her chest for the next few months isn’t much fun for her either. In addition to this, she gets to contend with ascites - fluid that accumulates around the belly. It limits her wardrobe and can be very uncomfortable. Drains are possible, but sometimes not required. Without getting drained, it may be more apparent on how well the chemo is actually working.

And recurrence. It's exhausting. On Mom. On me. It is the game we play now though. The game of seeking continual positive response to treatment. The game of seeking minimal side effects and coping with ever-increasing amounts of fatigue. The game of hoping that in whatever time Mom is off of treatment, researchers and scientists develop additional clinical trials, or the Canadian government approve new fandangled drugs that work. The game of hoping that the manufacturer of ovarian cancer drug Caelyx that Health Canada shut down last August, will re-open soon. The game of me trying to “be there” when I am required to be in the field work for extended periods of time. The game of me trying to “move forward with my life” and whatever that might entail…

---

It is such a beautiful world. Especially for the dying. They will see it in a different way than us angry, bitter, selfish souls. And when they are, well, not dying anymore because treatments are completed, then they tend to do anything and everything that they are capable of and with those around them that they are closest too. Especially if you know this 2 year Battle with Cancer – as difficult as it has been already, could end up being a 4 or 7 or 12 or 15 year war with continual highs, lows, and lowers. I just try and focus on what I can do to make life a more positive experience for me and my Mom when the world can be so tough.

You see, I still believe that other ailments in the world – MS, ALS, HIV/AIDS, Alzheimer's, and when kids get sick in any shape or form are tragedies in their own right as well. It's the most blessed of people that have had no real tragedies in their lives who might have the strength to choose to work towards spending a significant amount of their personal or professional time to any of these worthwhile causes.

Today I had a hamburger at the tent at the greenhouse that was raising money for the Rona Ride to End Multiple Sclerosis. My own 2nd Ride To Conquer Cancer event is less than a month away – the idea of it is especially daunting due to the lack of personal time I have made for myself to do anything – including training. But I am still hoping to do well with it. I would have enjoyed to play a larger part in the whole “team” thing again this year, but I was optimistically registered for this ride prior to Mom's recurrence. I hope that Dr. Capstick finds a good treatment option for Mom with the fundraising I have done. There are sooo many people that can benefit from the work done by these amazing specialists at the incredible cancer centre. At the Cross Cancer Institute, Mom is one of the 120 to 125 patients that will receive a chemotherapy treatment from the compassionate, loving nursing staff every single weekday. In the basement, radiology techs and doctors treat an incredible 500 people per day. And on the 3rd and 4th floor, 50 to 60 patients call this hospital home for the end of their days. Let’s end cancer.

FUCK THE KIDS!!!!

Maybe it's partly because I have been out of the blog-o-sphere for so long now, maybe it's because of my long standing feelings about today's youth, or maybe it's part of my current psychological state with my Mom being sick as she is that makes me deem it acceptable to post a blog with the F-word in the title. Heaven knows that for the by and large, I refrain from using bad language. One thing I do know for certain is that since the company I work for has elected to put some financial backing into the Stollery Children's Hospital, I have had NOFX's hit 30 second song "Fuck The Kids" repeating through my mind.

Yes, it's true that the compounding years of NOFX music has probably done a number on my nerves/brain cells/ideas about the world. And it is equally unfortunate that as a young person (yes, I'm still young), I don't have more confidence or generosity directed towards today's youth.

Nevertheless, today that's how I feel.

I cannot say enough good things about the company I am working for. They are a young & rapidly growing company that is doing all the right things. Including becoming involved in the community. So when the e-mail came through asking us to provide a rationale with a charity that we would like to see the company become involved with, I was excited to give them my recommendation.

I am betting that the company had only a small handful of viable options for the charity that they should go with, despite the overwhelming amount of good causes out there. Before my Mom's diagnosis, I would likely have been disinclined to submit a recommendation - or at the very least put in a half-assed paragraph about Ducks Unlimited or WWF or some other "Save the World" nonsense. But this is real life. Cancer happens. Lots. Now. And always. And it's scary.  Sure, kids are cute, and it's tough & rough to watch them suffer. And indeed, without healthy kids, we won't have a sustainable tax-base that will be having to help pay for my retirement home. Even so: fuck the kids. They are retarded, shameless, selfish, illiterate, foul-mouthed, self-absorbed, sex-crazed tech junkies and their parents either can't keep up trying to raise them, or crashed & burned trying. Let's look after us. Now. This is our generation - it's our time.

At the end of the day, the company I work for elected for those cute & cuddily kiddies. I would be curious to see by what margin the votes came in; and also if a presentation behind in support of the various charitable opportunities would have swayed the employee base. But it's done. We're young. So that's fine.



The Stollery  Children's Hospital Annual Report is very accessible. For the layman, it looks like in 2009 and 2010, there had been about $13 Million granted to the hospital out of the $25 Million raised by the foundation. By contrast, it looks like about $27 out of the $68 Million raised in the same time period was granted to for cancer research by the Alberta Cancer Foundation.  I am not concerned as to whether this is good or bad: I am no accountant. All that this shows is that a lot of money is in play.

Part of that $68 Million was raised by the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer that I participated in for the first time last June. Personally, my contribution was just over 3 grand of the $8.6 Million raised by 2900 riders. This ride is the largest fundraiser of its kind for the Alberta Cancer Foundation. It is a large commitment by all parties as well: fundraise $2500 minimum, commit to do the ride to your supporters, understand  on a higher philosophical level of what it means to get involved with a fundraiser that has an affect on an incredible amount of people. Oh and training. That part's work too.

But even after all the money has changed hands: costs of jerseys, tenting, food & drink, fuel to ship people around the province to Calgary for this ride - the Alberta Cancer Foundation will still create a difference in ALL of our lives.  Sooner or later, in some way or form. I believe that, and it would be good if you did too. The cynics and pessimists aren't making it any easier on any of us. Believe. That there can be a cure to help those living with cancer. That the end of it is achievable in our lifetime. That there will be suffering... no more.

Now... my song:

(well, that's 3 songs, but you get the idea)

twentyeleven

Instead of a blog this year, I thought what the hell - let's just write up the entire year like this:

Chemotherapy Completion.  Met Nicola Crosbie! matthew barber. Yankees Playoffs Game. BIG boat to tropical places:  panama canal. aruba. caracao. bahamas. costa rica! NOFX LIVE AT EDMONTON EVENT CENTRE.  nyc. made a friend. The Calgary Stampede. $3315 raised for the Alberta Cancer Foundation thanks to sooooo many wonderful friends and family.  chuck ragan. Columbia Icefields. Road a bike 210km in 2 days (after not riding a bike 10 km in 10 years before this year)! central park.  elliott brood.  got a job.  Las Vegas Christmas Party!!! Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs. Avenue Q. Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope with my Mom - together you helped me raise over $700 to help find a cure for ovarian cancer. HUMPBACK WHALES!  soho. Hedwig and the Angry Inch. met a pretty girl. Travelled to all new latitudes and breathed some northern air. Living With Lions! Christmas and New Years Eve in Puerta  Vallarta, MXC.


It might be hard to do better than this in 2012, but at least I am going into this year with some hopes, ideals, and  even a few plans & dreams - something that I didn't think I would come close  to having with all the uncertainties of 1 year ago. Just stay healthy, Mom, and all else will be just fine.

Growing Old

So you're 18 years old. Fresh out of high school. The world is your playground. The drinking! The SEX!  It's everywhere!! Well, for some more than others. In addition to this, you have hopes, ideals, and dreams of living an amazing fucking life.  ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!!

Then all of a sudden, you're all through college and BAM! You're 23.  Blink twice? 27. That's right: if you haven't met the person that you (like to think you) will spend a significant amount of your future with by now, you're statistically more likely to remain alone FOR ALL OF ETERNITY. In addition to this dismal truth,  in only 3 more years, you'll be 30. And after that, it's allllll dowwwwn hilllll -  the spare tire gets heavier and the cue ball gets shinier. And those are only the least visually depressing metaphors...

To Live Fast, Die Young, and (Love Hard?) may be a very legitimate plan of action - especially for those in this world that spend way too much plan feeling sorry for themselves.  Especially in a world with a ridiculously aging demographic who have embarrassed themselves with exceptionally poor planning decisions for Senior's Housing and health care. What are these people going to expect from us kids in another 20 or 30 years? And worse yet: what hope do you and I have of living a comfortable life in another 40 or 50 years? The the way the world is? It's hard to be optimistic...

Growing old. I think I fear that more than I do dying. Especially if that dying is going to be a dreadful, deteriorating death of my overall general health.  Chronic pain, false teeth, hearing loss and glaucoma, osteoporosis and arthritis, ailments and oxygen tanks. And dementia if you're lucky.   

Add to this the likelihood of becoming neglected by your kin. Root causes of poverty are often a result of excessive reproduction, resulting in hardships for you & your children. So having more than 1 likely won't make any difference.  In a super-fast-paced world where everything & everyone is always on demand, you can BET YOUR LIFE that you will be put on the back-burner when it comes to things like getting help in picking up groceries, taking trips to the doctor's office, or even filling the (government-covered?) prescription necessary to make your life... liveable? Barely. And we all know how much disposable income senior citizens have don't we.

When it comes to aging and, well, dying, I like to think that we do have at least some degree of choice in our fate. I wonder if we can pre-arrange euthanasia somewhere, somehow, and stipulate the conditions of how & when it should go ahead with, while we remain in our sound mind...? Or if we're really f'd up and lack total perspective or hope, there's that ultimate tragic & selfish way of removing ourselves from the equation.  But I think a funner way to start the end of it might be by living that good ol' (often-sought-after-rarely-attained)  High! Risk! Lifestyle!  More drinkin', wild irresponsible sex, recreational drugs of every kind, smokin', eatin', partyin' ---> EVERYTHING UNHEALTHY!  Because even with the average human longevity breaking through to new heights, there still - and always will be - a huge difference between living and living well.

Growing old isn't always part of the good lord's plan for us. Sudden death. Tragedies. NEVER accidents. But life-ending disasters. The 87 year old man killed golfing by a lightning bolt with no clouds or rain over head?  The highjacked bus that went off the bridge killing 15 school-aged children? It's all just such a huge fucking gong show. But for noone more than the ones left behind. This is why I think that a chronic illness can be just as devastating as a terminal diagnosis. The sick one will have to fight so fucking hard to overcome the psychological barriers thanks to both sadistic statistics as well as stigmas only perpetuated by the media. The sick one must do this in addition to fighting the actual illness?!?!?! Did I mention something about the importance of "support" earlier? Brutal. Fighting death alone, I think, would be harrrrd.  Having the knowledge that your time on this earth is going to be limited to years, months, or even weeks? Indescribable. This is why I think a fast, unexpected departure from this world might be preferred. This is why I fear the prospect of growing old. This is why I think that the faster we can find contentment (and bliss?) in life, the better.  This is why I would just like to live life now. Before it's too late. I can feel the heat of the bus's headlights on my brow already.     
  
Some say that if you go through your life in this world counting on nobody then nobody will be there to let you down. Once again, this makes the idea of "growing old" so very depressing. The fact of the matter is that it's only human nature to want to meet someone that you can share your life with. Share your happiness with. Share your sicknesses with. Share your bed with.  And the likelihood of sharing a 20th, 30th, or 50th anniversary with a partner becomes smaller & smaller.  Sure, there's something to be said for self-sufficiency and personal goals/achievements - but conquering Mount Everest or sailing the Seychelles or riding shotgun though an African Safari with the one you love is a hell of a lot more fulfilling than doing these things alone. + When the lion pounces, who is going to be the one to watch your back and nail that beast? And when you're 67, who is going to be the one to steep your tea? Pick up the Polident?  Drive you to your radiation treatments? Let you win at Wheel of Fortune?

Right now I'm at the age that kids really start to think about Life Long Loving and taking the holy vow of matrimony (if not only for the taxation benefits).  I'm right at the age where couples really engage in getting engaged. The lovely ladies go crazy when they become committed to the idea of... getting committed (I think maybe before the cue ball starts to shine and the spare tire gets brought into play?) But dearly beloved, please answer me this:  As much as you & I avoid looking into each other's eyes, are you absolutely positive that you are with the person that you see yourself buying Depends for in 50, 40, or 30 years from now?! And more importantly, how far into our marriage do you see the sex stop getting wild and kinky? (I would like to think NEVER - despite the fact that the very idea of old people fucking sounds kinda gross.  Alright, I'm convinced. For you, I will live forever.

Here's to You, babe. Let's hope we find eachother before we fastforward through our lives and wake up one day sad, cynical, jaded... and old. or dead.

I Used To Write Songs.

So you're a musician.

Well Me too. I have a guitar, a piano, a keyboard, a harmonica, a drum to beat on, annnnnd some spoons. My skill level at each of them? Not great. But I could get better, I swear. Then I could maybe even one day be famous. Quasi-famous? Non-famous? Infamous.

I stopped writing songs when I realized I couldn't sing. This was an unfortunate realization since the songs I wrote were actually pretty good!

The idea of someone possibly falling asleep at night to the melody that you created is pretty special. The thrill of  having someone clinging onto every last lyric of a song that you wrote is especially exciting!  Especially when you can secretly fool them all with some deep, dark & mysterious metaphor in your song that only truly makes any sense to the people you are most intimate with in your life. Or better yet: nobody else in the world but yourself.

The potential for metaphors and symbols and often not making a whole lot of sense makes the art of song-writing a very romantic endeavor. It doesn't matter if you are writing a song about pain, love, life, or death. Heck, even the punkest of punk bands can still write a song that tears at the heartstrings because of the degree of passion put into, say, bringing down the government! But outside of punk rock, a guy can still write a heartmelting song that can truly make the person he devotes it to become short of breath, perhaps a little bit dizzy, and maybe weak in the knees.

The opportunity to create intense admiration (ranging from "just a fan" to "I know all your songs" to "sexually stimulated" to "cyber-stalker" to "roadie/groupie" to "follow me to my van after the gig") from members of your fanbase is also intriguing. With only 3 1/2 minute songs, a musician can gain this kind of power over their audience. Songs that beckon each and every one of its listeners to fall head over heals in love with its creator. Songs that are so incredibly beautiful, sensitive, and tragic that the degree of vulnerability on display with the artist's most inner soul will make even the most straight-faced cold-hearted cynical person weep. 

These are the songs that I would sing for you. These songs I would dedicate to you.

Dedication. This is what having success in most things comes to in the end. A little luck doesn't hurt either.  Dedication: to tour, to write, to perform, to endure, to put out easily accessible & affordable non-tacky music & merch, and to not sell out.  Any musician seeking fortune or fame has to put in some pretty serious dedication - year after year after STD after year.        

  

Since I no longer write songs, and it is unlikely to ever become a viable vocation for me,  I often think about the other ways that I might be able to get her attention/fill up my days.  In life, don't a lot of people at least try to develop themself into a more dimensional, complex individual? Enroll in a Mediterranean cooking class. Take Tai Chi. Learn another language. It would be sooooo much easier to just be a musician! I think it must be like living in a dreamworld to be a successful musician - especially a lead singer in a band - where alll of those endless, fantastic things happen to you, whether you are drunk or high or not. The mundane routine of playing the same songs while earning little money at dirty little clubs with the same sleezy cocktail waitresses time and time again... WOULD BE GREAT!!! For a while. I can understand how some bands cannot overcome the ennuyeux of similar setlists and drunken fans/cyber-stalkers/roadies borderline harassing them (or begging to get harassed by them). But in the end, I think that the band learns to  evolve and put out incredibly stimulating material less frequently (TOOL, Propagandhi, Radiohead), or else fizzles out completely. For this reason, I guess I just have to be happy that I do not write songs. If I can simply spend some time with people I like that also don't mind wasting their nights away watching these musicians give themselves up for us, then that's fine too. 

SNFU can be credited to the title of this blog:

chapter 110.

Drive to Kill!

They call it an accident. A  slamming of the breaks and a wrenching of the steering wheel - seconds? milliseconds?? after impact. Whether that impact is with a gravel truck, lamp post, mini-van, or teenager on his bike travelling at night through an unmarked crosswalk, it's often too, too late.  2,011 vehicular collisions resulted in a daughter, father, sister, uncle, aunt, mom, brother being killed 2,209 times in Canada in 2009.   Why? Even if the numbers of these tragic deaths are down from generations passed, this unneccesary taking of life will never be the same for the families that are left behind. Sometimes, destroying that family beyond any hope of repair.

Sometimes when I am driving I envision that pedestrian walkway I just coasted through. Or that 3-way stop in front of the school. Did I really do everything I could have to ensure the absolute safety of anyone that might have been there?  I like to think I did. I like to think I am a pretty good driver. But then again: So. Does. Everybody.

MADD is probably the #1 advocate towards the creation of positive change of driver attitudes. Despite sad year-to-year reports of not much ever improving for alchol related traffic deaths. Maybe for real change to ever happen though, we need a PADD - Politicians Against Drunk Driving. This is only a pipe dream though, because it is usually the politicians that can't stop drinking! In all seriousness, though, the senseless murders on Canadian roadways have to stop. I think it would be great if the city would leave the fatality signs up wherever someone has succumb to a traffic-inflicted tragedy. And perhaps when a 2nd, 3rd, or 4th or 10th loss of life occurs there, they put up a round bright orange 2 foot sign with the cumulative number of deaths at the location that it happened. This would probably result in the public's realization that current mitigation techniques at ending road deaths is inadequate.    In the meantime, families continue to suffer because someone just doesn't get it. Christopher Dew's sentencing for the murder of a grandmother of 6 is slated for today.  The conviction of this murderer might result in a 24 month or else a 30 month prison sentence, depending on whether the Courts feel that the extra 6 whole months will do him any good or not. Keep in mind that this clean-cut white boy has served as a peacekeeper in Bosnia and is looking forward to becoming a humanitarian aid worker in some poor, poor, developing country. Currently, my aunt's native-born foster child is serving a 2 year sentence for trafficking marijuana, first offence.   What gives.

Even when it isn't alcohol-induced idiocy behind the wheel, there still remains the constant potential for certain traffic death. This is often due to belligerent, ignorant asshole drivers that have no respect for anything but themselves.

Impatience is wearing thinner than ever on Alberta roadways. Merging onto a freeway can be stupidly hazordous as speed-demons cut through solid white lines, disregarding any respect for their fellow road companion or the laws of the city that are put in place to make us all feel at least a little more safe.  Stale yellows? Well, you go right ahead, but I'm not chancing it! The distracted driver bylaw? I fortunately do not have $60 or $80 for an iPhone bill every month, so fucking around on facebook while driving is out of the question. Texting is sooooo 2004. Eating while driving? Kinda gross. Changine CDs is probably my biggest vice, but at leat I am not applying mascara. Which brings me to women drivers. Without getting myself into toooo much trouble, let's just say: Yowza.  Soccer Mom's are the worst. The stress of the job of being a working Mom nowadays makes them the most insane drivers on the road. Those SUVs are indestructible though, so even with the whole fandamly in the back, she can still afford to exceed posted speeding limits by 30%. Buckle up, kids.

Extremely poor driver education and an incredible degree of ease in attaining a license do not make matters any better. Newcomers to Canadian roadways, old people, and indeed 16 year old children would all benefit from an annual re-education of 2-axle vehicle operation every year, complete with a thorough practical government administered examination for 3 years after first earning their Class 5. And old people have to get off the roads at age 75, please. The exam must be rigorous enough that the people incapable of learning even the most fundamental and necessary safety aspects of driving will NOT be driving! After all, we all know that there will be more than enough of these people that pass the test, then totally disregard everything that they were told anyways. Let's at least make it hard for them to earn that privilege of fucking around on our roadways.

If there ever is a time where a person's unacceptable driving affects you directly, I encourage you to speak up and fight for what you know to be right! Enough with the apathy. And flipping the person off doesn't do much more good either. Leaving a note on the driver's windshield is at least something, but it's better if you can muster the balls to say what needs saying to their face. Politely? Politely. As possible.  True, we can all try and exemplify a more civilized, empathetic behaviour of others' undignified driving habits or techniques. But sometimes ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! (I think it's time to pull out the 9-iron from the back seat now).

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Moving On.

As globalization continues, fuel prices will increase. Eventually they will be so unconceivably high that only the privileged elite will be able to afford to drive. But please be rest-assured: the combustion of fossil fules will continue well into the 2050s. 

Urbanization will keep our streets crowded and more public transit infrastructure will go ahead REGARDLESS of how poorly it is implemented. Even the best of public transit infrastructure will not deter the privileged elite that can afford to drive their own person vehicles from driving.

And with every additional car on the road, we continue to kill our planet with every last tonne of CO2 that is emitted into the atmosphere. even if we start driving more fuel efficient vehicles, the likelihood of our old cars not being driven by somebody within the next 10 or 20 years is pretty low. In addition, "more fuel efficient cars" does not mean "no fuel" cars, and will resultedly continue to wreck havoc on the environment! This website indicates that about 50 MILLION cars are produced every year worldwide, with 600,000,000 currently coasting around city streets.  Our oil dependent lifestyle will only intensify with our desperation for newer, better, and even more "environmentally friendly" / technologically advanced cars. The production  alone of  millions of "zero" emission cars will certainly contribute to global warming in the production line! Anthropogenic climate change. This is unsustainable.

In the year 2050, disparity and inequality will run rampant, leaving our poor civilized society in shambles. Right now, I am reading Collapse by Jared Diamond who demonstrates how crucial it is for us to aknowledge the warning signs before it's too late. It's not a case of "probable" or "likely" or "mitigation" or "work-on-technology-to-save-us" It's a matter of the necessity of change. Now. Everywhere. Fast. 

The City of Edmonton is being laughed at for the $100M in creating & expanding cycling lanes over the next 10 years.  Maybe if we're lucky, some of those 50,000,000 cars produced annually will not make it to Edmonton, and there will be more room for those of us who enjoy riding a bike on those new paths, with having less fear of being mowed down by some F-250 Hemi Engine Pick Up Truck or Distracted Driver or Soccer Mom. At least for the 5 or 6 months that the weather allows for cycling up here on latitude 53.

Today is World Car-Free Day! And it is also the day that my cousin was killed in a traffic accident 15 years ago. She was 18. I miss you, Shantell.

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