Friday, November 30, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
I hate...turkeys, actually no, truthfully, I'm afraid of them...Monday mornings, no, not consistently, in fact, rarely...can't think of anything...can't think...oh wait, I detest arrogance, condescending behaviour...blue cheese (yup, I think I actually do hate blue cheese)...I don't know...wait, I hate faraway noises I can't discern (I have this Sherlock Holmes need to find the source)...my Kobo (I don't hate it; I just prefer real books)...uh...um...I hate...error Code 43...and when they put raisins in chocolate...kinda...I hate
I believe one's things-I-hate-list should be much much shorter than one's things-I-love-list:
3. thinking differently
4. turnip fries
6. my kids
7. my wife
8. Scottish chocolate shortbread (my wife just brought a box home and they sound sort of fancy, but here's bubble burster: she bought them from a gas station, yup, not exactly gourmet and they're 28% saturated fat so they're basically chocolate butter). Whoa...chocolate butter...what a great idea.
13. stories...did I ever tell you about the time my son and I caught a bunch of frogs (of various sizes) and put them in an aquarium in his room and everyday one or more disappeared and we were so confused because the aquarium had a cover but we searched all over my son's room for them (no easy feat considering he has been a hoarder in training for years now) but did not find any frog carcasses until one day-one moment-one sudden second when we both realized at the same time: frogs are freaking cannibals?!
16. setting my timer to 15 minutes to write stream of consciousness and then trying to finish my list before the--
Monday, November 26, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Some friends and I were talking not long ago and the discussion led to this: what are the most important decisions one must make in his or her life?
That stumped me for a while. But being stumped is like toffee candy for me. It’s sweet and I just keep on chewing on it. Thus, after some time, I chose ten important questions:
1. Whom do I choose to marry?
2. What will I do with my life?
3. Will I choose to have children? If I have children, what will I teach them?
4. What do I value?
5. What do I believe?
6. What’s truly important in life?
7. What’s worth changing in my life?
8. What’s worth keeping the same?
9. Who am I?
10. What will be my legacy?
So serious eh? For a while I debated including, “how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” Or why do squirrels steal golf-balls (Think about that: it’s a weird mind-boggling fact.) Eventually though, I decided to focus on the more serious life-changing subject matters. Thus my list felt mostly complete, but then I had to push it further and decided to prioritize them.
Stumped again. Worse in fact. Think about that for a minute: which decision is most important?
There are so many ways to debate them. Marrying the right person has made a huge, huge difference in my life. So has having children. But the quest to answer who I am has led to terrific opportunities (although I haven’t fully answered that question yet.) But what I choose to value and what I choose to believe answered several other questions. And then I wondered something else: is every answer my legacy?
I haven’t completely decided on that but my heart keeps saying yes. Yes. And that leads to another question: what do I do for others?
“You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.” John Bunyon
Monday, November 12, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Interior Monologue: [flipping over in bed for the second time] What is that noise? [flipping again] What is that? [big sigh] It's like...it's like...[listening carefully] it's like there's a bathtub in my neighbour's yard...and it's empty...[attempts to shut it out and return to sleep but hears it again]...and inside the tub there's an otter...[flips over]...an otter?...[listening carefully again]...yup, an otter...and he's, what is he doing?...he's scootching his bum...yup, he's scootching his bum back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...bathtub scootching squeaking noises [furrowed brow]...scootching and scootching...and yup, that little bastard is smiling at me while he's scootching and scootching [visualizes uzi]...what is he doing and why does he hate me?...scootching and scootching and scootching...[riddles little otter with bullet holes followed by a momentary pang of guilt and then finally, thankfully, slumber].
Monday, November 5, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
I’ve never had a moustache. Unless you count the goatee I sported for a few years. Early on in that questionable experiment someone told me it looked like a gopher was trying to swallow my mouth. I decided to buy some grooming equipment after that.
And I grew a patchy beard one December while I was in University to protest exams. It didn’t have any effect. And for about a month I had a small soul patch. But I wasn’t cool enough to pull that off. Mostly I’ve been clean-shaven my whole life.
Not this month though. It’s Movember, the month devoted to all things facial hair to bring awareness, discussion and support to men’s physical and mental health issues.
My first experience with facial hair and men’s health was my Dad. The guy probably had sideburns when he was thirteen. But he ignored his health. Religiously. Over the course of his life he avoided the doctor whether he nearly sliced his thumb off or crushed his toes flat. He would have thought Movember was for ding-dongs. It caught up with him though. If he had lived longer, I think he would have changed his mind. I’d like to imagine him growing his beard with me this month. And that, I think, might be the real point of Movember.
Guys: it’s true we all respect the women’s health movement. We embrace the pink campaign with our dearest daughters and wives and aunts and mothers and sisters and grandmothers. And guys: it’s true we may feel too uncomfortable with vulnerability to really feel worthy of a month focused on us and our health. But that seems like a missed opportunity for solidarity and friendship with each other because let’s face it: we shouldn’t feel alone in this. Sometimes only another guy can really understand.
To be honest though, I’m not growing my beard this month for all men. Sorry. It’s just for one man this time actually. A really good man. A good man with cancer.
I don't know what else to say about that. The beard will have to speak for me because sometimes there are just no words.