tim’s thought property

So what have I been up to in the last month?
Man, I wish I could say it was exciting or riveting, or “blog-able”, but it’s all in perceptions. I suppose I have done quite a bit of things, I just haven’t bothered to document them.
I returned to the activity of running, I Incorporated a routine that lasted for April, only to collapse once cold May weather hit. Prairies! Am I right? Anyway….
I also helped Marc move to his new apartment in the middle of the month. It’s a snazzy little river-front piece, that is just perfect for him.
I had my first weekend of leadership training, so the camp wheels have been put into motion. We came together to develop team skills, and discuss policy and leadership techniques and the like.
I submitted my portfolio to the Faculty of Fine Arts, and I have to now submit my application to the University. A little backwards, I realize, but at least I’m finally doing it.

My life’s pace has seemed to be like chasing my own tail in circles; only at a tortoise-like pace, making it a real slow process.
I think that I’m facing the right direction again (forward) and have my priorities straight (in front of me) and I can proceed (finally) in the direction I started in. Well, I’m sure I’ll be peppering this blog with more words in the coming weeks, so for now, I’ll let this settle. If you want entertainment, I’m finding Tim Penner’s blog to be a rivetingly creative piece, so check it out.

Last Wednesday, Matt Epp played at the West End, accompanied on viola and violin by Kristjanna Oleson.
Here are a couple of shots. Julia Kasdorf opened, with Joey Penner and Luke Ens.
It was an intimate little show. They all performed quite well.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

I thought about thinking about things tonight.
I used to have thoughts on things. I used to pretend to have insights. Now I just feel pretentious.
Maybe I’m just tired.

Part of me is real curious to why I go about at the pace I’m going. What are the goals I had intended to achieve?
Are they all accomplished; no, not all. Are they all abandoned; well, some are. Where do I see myself in five years? One year? How am I making the means to get there?
It’s a little strange how things get set aside, and then grow and grow and then come back to mind so unlike they were before. I seem to have to keep fending and fighting off these growing and changing ideas. These processes that will take me to the next leg of the race, the next part of the year, the next goal on the goal-sheet. Everyone says that you should look at things from a different perspective, in order to gain new insight. Well, what if each angle makes the opposition look just as daunting as the rest of them?
Right now it feels like I’m running. I’m running forwards, but to the fields of beyond deadlines, and the looming sinister feelings of could-have-but-didn’t. It feels like I have the things I need put just out of reach; things like preparedness or responsibility. It seems that I’m chasing a carrot, but not feeling the weight of the rider on my shoulders. Right now what I need the most, is a sense of direction. I need to know what I am doing and how to get there.
Maybe I don’t even really know what I need. But then, that last thought is bullshit.
Maybe I do know what I need, but am so used to not trying hard enough.
Maybe I’m learning that I cannot continue to operate at the same old pace any longer.
Maybe I just need some certainty.
GOD, I need certainty.

The last of my flurry of concerts has ended.
Jordan and I, along with his brother, and friends; went to the Walker to see Metric play.
It had been a while since I set foot in the old theatre, and I must say that it was good to be back. I really enjoy the atmosphere of the space. As we walked up to the doors, and had the big, burly Event Staff rip and scan our tickets, we entered a crowded lobby.
As we took our seats, we were “graced” with the performance of two opening acts. The first, Panarch, was what seemed to be a slightly bored and generic rock band. The crowd did not seem too taken with them, and the band, to their credit, played tight. However, the music was quite forgettable. The second act, The Elected, was a little more involved with the audience. But they opened by saying something like “Get of your seats, guineas!” Jordan remarked that starting off a set with what sounded like an insult isn’t the best way to gain an open ear. They played well, but didn’t seem interested in the city. They thanked Metric quite a bit, but never once the crowd for coming out. There was a lot of energy from the lead singer, but he seemed a little wrapped up in the rockstar mindset to care if anyone enjoyed the set.
By that time, we were really getting eager for Metric to play. We met up with Farthing, another S.bucks’ co-worker, and the group of us tried to get to the front before the band took stage. We were told by a mercenary of a man that we, in the aisle, were making a fire hazard. As there was time to kill, we attempted four times to stake out a better spot, but every time, a giant, with the arms the circumference of a horse’s leg, stopped us and turned us away.
Standing in our row, we had the lights go out, and the group take the dim stage. The boys in the band wore white shirts, and Emily Haines wore a short white dress. With much smoke, and many spot-lights, the stage had changed from hues of grey to green to blue to purple. They started off with Live it Out, the title track from their newest album. As they got more comfortable, they seemed to loosen up their antics. Emily would dance with stiff moves, but also be quite animated from behind her two keyboards. Guitarist James Shaw began to unwind by the time they played Poster of a Girl, and it sounded great live. The crowd was up and into the music by this time. Ending Start was in there and quickly following was Monster Hospital. The crowd seemed to love this one quite a bit. As they played out most of the new album, I had found that I knew less of their music than I thought. One song, Hustle Rose, from their 2003 release, blew me away with the long outro done on the keys. They played Combat Baby right after, and I found that too, was a great song, that was new to me.
As the night went on, the outros and instrumental bridges got longer. When they finally left the stage, the loud crowd called for more. Being the polite musicians that I took them to be, the band returned for a few more songs. Amongst the encore songs was Dead Disco, one that Jordan really wished to hear.
It was a great performance by Metric. The band was great at what they do. Steady drumming, intricate bass, and elaborate guitar all courtesy of Joules Scott-Key, Josh Winstead and James Shaw respectively. Emily Haines was of course the lead vocalist, and keyboard player. And when they left for good, the crowd made its way out. It was satisfying.

This was a show that you had to see to believe.
No, there weren’t lasers or smoke machines; fireworks or even crazy stage performances; there were children. And pink balloons.
The Inservice (the temporary name of the band), consisting of Marc Willerton on guitars and vocals, Jeremy Dell on guitar and vocals, Jeremy Sturby on bass and Adam Klassen on the drums; played their first official gig this evening. And oh how I wish I could have captured it on film!

To set the scene, Tim [Penner] and I were driving down to find the Robert A. Steen Community Centre with the combined and lacking memories we had of the directions. We traversed up and down Portage Avenue four times before turning on the appropriate street. We were told to go down Banning, which (on the south side of Portage) happens to be called Ruby St. Go figure. Not only that, there was a very large and obstructive truck blocking the sign from sight. Only at the fourth time around, did we finally make a valiant, albeit dangerous, sharp turn to get on to Ruby nee Banning. As we drove down, we saw that the building at the end of the curving road was the community centre, which was a old converted church. What do you get for a venue in Wolesly?
As Tim and I approached the community centre, there were about eight or so kids running around outside of it, playing games. With quizzical looks on our faces, we met up with Nick, Breanna and Naomi. We asked them if this was some kind of a birthday party or something, but none of us really knew. It turns out it was a family social….. That served beer….. And pink martinis.
But this was no ordinary family social, it was a Breast Cancer fundraiser. A place to bring the kiddies for a night with the neighbours in the confines of a sanctuary-turned-gymnasium, for some four dollar alcohol and free party snacks. As the five of us entered and looked around, we found that we were the only ones really, in our age demographic. We basically formed a wall of age between the “bar” and the gym’s centre, wherein all the children played in stocking feet.
By “played”, I really mean cashed one another and hit each other with bundles of pink balloons. It was remarkable how many of them had continued to hit each other in the face or back of the head with their balloons, and then proceed to chase each other around the gym and the tables set up. But more predictable was the number of kids with their hands over their ears to drown out the noise of the band.
I think that the guys did a fine job, playing the covers and few originals. The crowd was polite, clapping after each song, and the kids seemed not to hate it…they just rather would have gone on with their balloons, and the co-ordination it took to pick them up and throw them. The guys played Coldplay’s Politik and U2’s In God’s Country off the start. They also had done the now standard Don’t Walk Away Eileen, by Canada’s iconic Sam Roberts. They ended off the show with their three originals, but due to bad hearing I do not know the titles. But I can assure you that they were very well played. If one thing has helped for certain (aside from each member’s specific dedication to their instrument; or the years they practiced and learned to play; or even the joy they had in playing), it was that Adam works at Qwest Musique and had access to the company van. Yep. Every good band needs a good machine to carry equipment.
It was a great show. I’ve never been in a venue that didn’t I.D. at the door, yet still served outrageously expensive alcohol, while catering to the supervised childcare needs of young families, at the same time as providing contemporary and talented live performance to such a kind audience. Only in Wolesly…

I hate the Passat.

Let me be more specific; I hate the Passat that I drive.
If there has been any one topic that has come up every month or so on this blog, it has been that car. And every time it is in a negative context. It has been one load of problems after another. In a conversation with Tim tonight, there was a moment that escaped in subtle cleverness, that only now upon recollection do I see the parallel. We were talking about the life-span of dogs vs. the cost of raising them. For example, a dog that lives 14 years is quite impressive. Now, in that time the family has strong attachments to it, let’s say it gets sick, they pay the vet fee, which can be upwards of $5000 if it’s a really loved pet. But that amount of money to be spent on an animal surgery is almost insane, especially if the dog is 14×7 years old (or 98 in human terms). I’ve never owned an animal other than fish, so I have no understanding of the bond that may for after 98 accelerated years between dog and man.Where am I going with this? Well, just like I would question spending so much money on an animal so late in life, I question spending money on a dying Passat, so late in it’s own life.
Well, I clipped the driver’s side mirror on the house, on Monday. I was watching the other side of the car while backing up, so I wouldn’t hit the railway ties that make a garden border on the neighbour’s property. As I was pre-occupied on one side, a loud SNAP! echoed in my ears, and I turned almost in slow motion, with the knowing look on my face - I broke that mirror. I backed it in, and went inside, making it no more of an issue. With this car, if it’s not something, it’s something else. You can mark those words.
I told my dad that evening, then went for my run. When I got home, I was given a list of items also broken or needed (such as a door-latch and window crank handle) and instructed to call around the junkyards and see if there were any 1992 Passats that were trashed and ripe for the picking. Fair enough. I damaged the car. I deserve to be responsible.
When we found a car, and Dad picked up the part, it was installed in no time. In fact, when I got home from the concert yesterday, I found on the floor of my room just beside my bed, the old, cracked and defunct side view. I picked it up and looked at it closer. Yep, the mirror was broken, alright. Even the wires dangled out the side.
So I walked downstairs, and all nonchalantly said to Dad, “So, if I keep breaking car parts, I’ll be able to construct my own car, right?”
“Well, what do you mean by that?”
“This side view makes two now, remember? I broke the passenger side mirror on the van two years ago.”
At this my dad gave a sort of silent look like “This one doesn’t know cars“, and I just went for it. In my dry, deadpan way of conversing I said, “Well I think I’ll wreck the transmission tomorrow, that way I can really get something of substance.”
To this my father responded with a stare that looked like it should be melting my resolve. I should have been fearful. So I went on. “I can get all the parts I need for a new Franken-mobile this way. Heck, I think that I’ll drive excessively fast down Highway 75 in the van, just to loosen up the axles. Yep, with all those broken parts, I’ll be able to make a new car that will be fully restored, costing me only time and effort, not cash.”
My father at one point spit out the coffee he was drinking, and said something like, “WHAT?! You are no son of mine! How can you even suggest such a thing? Do you know how much grief, anguish and agony that darned Passat has put me through? That is the sole reason you cannot go to university! That beast of a money trap has taken all the income out of my wallet and funneled it to the various garages in the city, who do their best to make a decent living! How dare you make light of the situation with that vile poison you call humour. That is not funny! That is not funny at all!”
I just stood, stared.
*blink* *blink*
“Well, I’m going to bed.” I said as I turned and left.