Life Is More Exciting For Cyclists

Cyclists and drivers are a bit like boys and girls in a grade two classroom.  They are thrust into the same space and told to get along, yet the gulf between the two mentalities is so great that neither side really likes or trusts the other.  I have rejoined the world of cyclists and have once more embraced a car hating attitude.

   

 The main problem with cars is that they are bigger, stronger, faster and you know that the driver isn't paying as much attention to the road as to his cell phone, radio and hair.  The problem with bikes is that they are slower, harder to see and you know that they are being powered by someone who is slightly insane.  

   As a cyclist I need to proactively guard against careless drivers because I don't really care who's at fault when I'm run over.  Staying alive is a very real priority while biking.  One of the dangers when riding is when people pass when there really isn't room to pass.  Calgary doesn't have a lot of shoulder room on a lot of its roads so at times I feel most comfortable riding in the lane so cars have to change lanes to pass me.  There's a chance that I will delay the driver by half a minute but if that half minute of their time means that I don't die, I think that it's a good deal.  

Today I was biking from the university to the Currie Barracks which conveniently lets me bike down 29th Ave by Foothills Hospital.  This is a great road because there's a fun hill that allows me to get up to high speeds.  I powered past a hapless cyclist while cruising beside the hospital and then started down the hill in a devil may care, hell bent, balls to the wall 60+km/h manner, tucked down so that not one extra molecule of atmospheric friction would delay my trip of insanity.  

I think that drivers often feel the urge to pass a cyclist as soon as possible, even when the cyclist is going above and beyond the speed limit.  On this hill I get going fast enough that often vehicles slow me down so I didn't feel bad at all about leaving the shoulder and riding behind a van in front of me.  I was flying down the hill when the van inexplicably began to slow down.  

It is easy to become accustomed to high velocities, it's a familiarity breeds contempt sort of thing.  Well it's also very easy to quickly become re-aware of the danger of high velocity, just try and stop in a hurry.  

I always figured that a bike should be able to stop twice as fast as a car, but going down that hill the van was definitely slowing down faster than I was.  I was braking as hard as possible without skidding and the van was suddenly very big and very close.  If the driver happened to look in her rear view mirror at that time it probably would have been quite rewarding.  A human face far closer than expected upon looking in the mirror, and a face wearing an expression of panic.  

However, I doubt that she looked back until too late.  I imagine that she looked back just after upon hearing a thump as she was rear ended by a cyclist.  Luckily I had managed to slow my bike down enough; my front tire hits bumper and stops immediately, my inertia compels the back wheel to depart terra firma and I'm airborne, briefly.  Soon, gravity being what it is, I'm reacquainted with my earthbound tendencies.  A quick, ungraceful roll and I stop.  I immediately try and get up, though I think it took a couple of attempts.  

The people in the car behind me ask me if I'm alright, I indicate to the positive.  The car I hit drives on, either unaware of what occurred, or uncaring.  I think that I might have scuffed their bumper so maybe it's good that they didn't stop.  

I regain my senses and try to put my chain back on.  However the back wheel isn't spinning.  A quick inspection reveals the wheel to be bent, more than a little.  Looks like it's the bus for me.

So end of the incident tally.

My body-small scrape on arm and leg but otherwise fully intact

My bike- presumably fine except for the damage to the wheel

My pride- wounded, though strong enough to handle greater damage than that.  Dare I say it? Pride suffers after the fall.  

  

Blogging Takes Friggin' Practice

I don't want to do the same old thing that so many of my latest, though by no means recent, blogs have done; speculate the reasons for the declining number of posts that I have been doing.  I went to writing multiple times a month to have multiple months pass by without any new posts.  

My failure to post regularly has ironically been partly due to that, I wanted to post a new blog but I couldn't really think of anything to write about other than why I'm not writing much at all.

Well with the idea that beggars can't be choosers, my readers, should there be any of you left, will have to be satisfied with what I put down here.  

I actually found my way to my blog today through a hyperlink on my church's website.  I don't know how I feel about being linked from my church's website.  I mean, my blog isn't really a Christian blog though I do at times write about Christian themes.  But it's similar to my reason to not want a Christian fish or bumper sticker on my car, I don't want people judging Christianity by what or how I drive.  I also don't want people judging my church from my blog.  In both cases I don't really think that I project a bad impression, but it's not the honest impression.  Rather than read my blog, people who want to know about my church should come out and attend. 

The other day in philosophy class we were discussing the end of man by which we mean the end meaning for the existence of humankind.  For example, some would say that pleasure is the ultimate aim, others power, others wealth.  We were discussing Aristotle's view that this ultimate goal should have no further reasons for being a goal.  For this reason he choose happiness as the ultimate end.  Because while you could say the goal of attaining wealth would be to buy things, the desire to buy things would be because owning things makes one happy. But why does one want to be happy?  Well the answer is to be happy.  There are no further reasons.  

Aristotle figured that the ultimate aim needs to be able to stand alone.  He didn't like the idea of an infinite chain of reasons for every action.  One student speculated that perhaps there could be a chain of reasons should the end of man be the satisfaction that comes with achieving each goal.  The prof listened and then said, "So in this case the chief aim of man is to get shit done."  

So really these last two paragraphs were a long winded explanation for this one simple point.  I want to write my blog without worrying that I may cause offense because I'm linked to a church's website.  Should I feel the need to include a curse, I want to do it.  Well I'm not going to worry.  Judging by the quality of this post I should worry about whether people are going to read my blog at all.

Where Did I Lose the Touch?

It is interesting, to me, to consider the songs of the Beatles. One thing that they all have in common is that they are AWESOME! However, it's interesting to note that when the Beatles split up all four members went on to solo careers and none of the music that they did afterwards was as good as what they did together. Granted they put out some good songs but nothing compared to their Beatles material. It was almost as if their was some magic that they had when working together.

I didn't start this blog to teach about the Beatles though. It is just that they are never a bad place to start and I want you to remember the theory that Paul McCartney is only a great songwriter when working with John Lennon and vice versa and that only with George Harrison and Ringo Starr did they manage to create such timeless, universally appreciated music.

I started blogging October 24, 2004 back when Myspace was trendy. My very first blog went as follows:

"This may work.

I will just try to get something actually posted. My last two blogs seem to be lost somewhere in cyberspace. Weird. So don't criticize me if I don't say anything intellegent here. If you are reading this it means I have already accomplished a lot. That is relatively speaking of course."

I posted perhaps every month or so for the next year, my blogs generally being about the same length and quality as that. In late 2005 I moved to Calgary from Kelowna, in early 2006 I moved in with Calvin and Lisa. My blogs grew longer and I feel the quality improved. Later Kevin moved in and, in my opinion, my blogs grew better still. The Chateau Rockingham stage began and my blogs reached a zenith.

Early this year I went traveling and I started posting fewer blogs but I figured that it was due to lack of access to a computer. Later I was tree planting and I wrote fewer and the quality showed a remarkable drop. I thought things would improve upon finishing my season and yet her I am, with a rather poor excuse for a blog. Today, like many days in the recent past, I was thinking of ways I could rectify this yet I have been unable and somewhat unispired to write the simplest of blogs. I wondered what could possibly have changed when I remembered the Beatles. So now I offer to you the conclusion that I am not responsible for any of the great blogs I wrote, it is more the result of the wonderfully creative environment that I was so priviledged to share.

So, that is why my blog now stinks.

I should quit blogging but I was doubly inspired recently. The other day I used a friend's computer and noticed that my blog was bookmarked. This was good for my ego. As well, the other day I got a comment on an old blog that was very flattering indeed. I hope that I will one day write another Great Blog.

I logged on to Myspace today because I was looking for a poem that for some reason came to mind the other day. I am not sure of the copyright laws but I am going to risk the lawsuit (this will come back to haunt me after I've made my millions) and post it here without the consent of the talented author.

Ode to a Sheep I Never Actually Sawr by Calvin French

O Sheep!

Hoary-caped perplexed beast!

Your ears jab out:
The gross, pink thumbs of a half-deformed circus performer.
Your legs thrust earthward:
The jealous, stilletto longing of a spindly hollywood anorexic.
Your triangle face stares stupidly:
The free falling emptiness of a heroin addict's last hit.

I want to jump on you, like MARIO!

Butcher and eat you, like MAD, MAD CONSUMERISM!

Spread your colostrum thick on my morning toast, like A FARM BOY!

O Sheep!

Fattened pusher-out of lambs!

Your young bleat nature's yearning:
The mute rage of a thousand emo boys.

What a great poem. Since I had the desire to write a blog but without any clear subject in mind I decided to reread some of my old posts. Every once in a while I really impressed myself. Not saying that what I did was really impressive, just that I'm easily impressed and biased. For example, on writing a blog about Harry Potter and the addictive qualities of the books I titled my blog "Harry Crack or Crack Potter." What a great double pun! I never did gain good inspiration for this blog so instead I will repost an old poem I wrote about living with Calvin, Kevin and Lisa. I hope you like it, because it's among the best writing that I've ever done.

Last Among Equals by Ed Smith

Last among equals, equals me
When we began our household was 4.
But I snuck in my friend Pride.

Pride is an old friend of mine
But he felt unwelcome here.
For although nearsighted, he recognized Greatness.
And Pride doesn't like his company

In vanity I searched for something that I could do better than my house companions.
In vain I gave up
For the headaches of the schoolboy:
Reading, writing, 'rithmetic.
At best, third best in all.

Oh the shame of Art Nights
Burton Cumming's countenance peers laughingly, tauntingly. In Art I have no equal, for all my roomates surpass me.

Music perhaps? There too I am living in a shadow.
My talent and abilities fail to impress.

If red is anger and blue is sorrow, then I am green.
"It's not easy being green."

Lisa quotes Shakespeare, Keats, and Frost.
Kevin quotes Richard Guy, John Conway, Martin Gardnerr and Kevin Shields.
Calvin quotes Sheldon Brown
Ed quotes a muppet.

Ignorance is bliss they say.
Ed is the happiest member of the house they say.
Oh to be ignorant of my ignorance.
Then I could be merry once again.

"Your knowledge of the Beatles far surpasses ours" Lisa says consolingly.
It's true" I reply, failing to see the laughter in her eyes.

"I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries"
But I cannot reach the same conclusion as The Bard, for I am alone.

"But girls seem to like you" Kevin says.
"Although it's inexplicable" Calvin adds, head up his Asperger's.

The humblest of the house (Though not in the virtuous meaning of the word)
Perhaps here my happiness lies.
As a pilgrim travels miles to be with the guru
As the student desires to be at his teacher's side
So I too can learn and grow. Though offering least, I gain most.
And here can I find my gratitude.

I miss that household quite regularly.

Random Thoughts and Experiences From Planting

One thing I like about being up north during the summer is the long days. I am not really sure what time the sun rises but it is still somewhat light at ten in the evening. Another thing is that everybody drives big trucks up here. That's not what I like, it's just that as a result the parking stalls here are all huge which makes for super easy parking.

My first season planting I hated the work. I went back for season two and despised the job. During season three I abhorred it. Season four I loathed it. I kept coming back though. I am in the midst of season five, and I don't mind it so much. People accused me of being a "lifer" back when I abhorred it. Is there any escape for me now?

Typically after the loggers cut down and remove all the trees the mill will gather up the bigger branches and unusable logs into big piles of slash. These are placed at regular intervals along the road. The cut block is planted and in the winter the piles of slash are burned. The next season planters go in and plant the burns where the slash was previously piled. Because it is only the burns being planted, boxes of trees need to be left along the road periodically for when the planter runs out of trees.

Planting burn piles was my task last week but the interesting thing was that it was a helicopter block so I was given a radio to radio in when I needed trees. The helicopter would then fly down and drop some off. The other thing is that I only carried about a litre of water so when I ran out of water I would radio in and the helicopter would fly down so I could refill my bottle. I won't lie, you get a feeling of power ordering water by helicopter, especially with the knowledge that it costs $150 every six minutes of flying time. I think that flying in a helicopter might be the best perk about tree planting.

I read Timeline by Michael Crighton the other day. While planting the worst land of the season I was thinking about time travel. I came up with a hypothetical situation. Imagine that Frank and Joe build a time machine. They want to test it but nothing too drastic so Joe is sent back in time only five minutes. Upon arrival the time machine breaks. Joe is stuck five minutes in the past. Because Joe is always five minutes behind, Frank will never again communicate with him. However, Joe can freely interact with Frank's previous self. So although Frank never actually is in the present with Joe, he will always get new memories of Joe. However, what if Frank and Joe planned on this eventuality. Let's say that Joe takes the time machine at 6:00pm. He goes back in time to 5:55pm. He agrees to meet Frank at Starbucks at 7:00pm. Therefore Frank waits an hour after sending Joe back and goes to Starbucks. Joe arrives in the past and waits an hour and five minutes and then goes to Starbucks. Suddenly they are in the same place at the same time. I'm not sure where my reasoning goes astray. It is just so difficult to conceptualize the aspect of time.

My boss was looking for more planters because we are running a little behind. I have planted with a lot of people but I couldn't think of a single person that hasn't retired from planting. Most have real jobs now. I feel old again. There is one other planter in the camp who has planted more seasons than me, one other who has planted the same. However, because I took two years off my first season was two years before his. My first trees are seven years old this year. The trees that I planted yesterday were big enough that they looked seven years old. Time is ripping by. My beard is the best in camp. This means that despite how I feel, I am a grown up. I hope that one day my life will look a little more grown up. Life is going too quickly.

The Sun is the Same (in a Relative Way)

Of all the trees that I know of, the best one to hug is the Ponderosa Pine, native to my hometown of Kelowna. The reason being is that the bark smells like vanilla. Of all the insects on Earth, I hate Dendroctonus ponderosa, the Mountain Pine Beetle, the most. Driving from Vancouver to Kelowna this spring I was astonished at how much the pine beetle has ravaged the forest. It eats away at the trees and the trees die, turning an unsightly orange colour. Growing up we would often make the drive between Kelowna and Vancouver and I now sort of consider all the land visible from the highway to be mine. Granted I'm willing to share it, but it really was painful to see the extent of the damage on my trees.

Pulling into Westbank I was astonished by how much construction has gone on since my last visit. It is equally astonishing how popular it is to build hideous buildings. Huge stores that blight the landscape with bigger parking lots; the residential areas are no better. Builders especially like to find attractice hill side plots of land, rip down every tree and dig up a gouge across the hill. It is then ready for huge, characterless houses where people can ensconce themselves in front of their big screen tvs comfortable in the knowledge that their SUV's and toys are safe in the attactched three car garage. They don't mind so much that the natural beauty of the city I love is being raped and destroyed.

I then went and visited my grandparents.  It was great to see them both, and to spend time at their house which is still one of my favourite places in the world.  However, things are changing.  They're both aging and it's not clear how long they'll be able to stay in their house.  Furthermore, the painful truth is that my grandma's memory has really slipped. The same question needs to be answered several times, often in the same hour.

I visited my other grandparents. Also lovely, lovely people. It was nice to see them, as always but they too show the signs of aging. Their walk is a little slower and little bit more stooped. Aging is a hard truth.

I arrived in Calgary and went to the Chateau Rockingham, my home only a few months ago. Since I left one roommate has moved out and another in and another has become engaged. Last night we had a bunch of people over, just like old times. It was a reminder of how sweet life my life was while living here. I don't know how I always luck out and have great roommates but I do. However, the thing with roommates is that they are temporary. Last night we drank a scotch in honour of old times while listening to Chopin's Nocturnes on the record player. It was a scene that we had played out many times before but it might be the very last time it will happen here. Life just keeps rolling on.

Evolutionists teach that rapid changes are detrimental to organisms. They cannot respond and evolve and eventually they die out. I currently feel like I can't evolve to all of the changes that are happening around me. Life is whipping by so quickly. My birthday looming around the corner doesn't make me feel any better. As Lisa so kindly pointed out to me, it's a two pack birthday this year; as in I'll need two packs of candles for my cake because they only come in packs of twenty four but I will be twenty five.

This week I will be time traveling though. Treeplanting was a huge part of my life for several years and after a two year hiatus I return to the woods. Hopefully there, I can briefly find some solace from the changes that are rocking my world.

A Bunch of Reading, a Little Writing, but no 'rithmatic

Perhaps it is the fact that this keyboard does not let me use apostrophes. For this reason I cannot use contractions without looking like an ignoramus. Writing without apostraphes is harder than I would expect. Or because I have been busy. No, that is definitely not the case. The real reason I have not written a blog in a while is that I just have not gotten around to it.
Another reason is that I do not have anything good to write about. With a little work and more talent than I possess perhaps I could make the last few weeks of my life interesting but it would be hard. What I have been doing is reading. I would like to say that I have been reading mind expanding intelectual stuff but that would be a bit of a stretch. I will let you judge for yourself.

Debt of Honor
-Tom Clancy

The Guardian
Dear John
Three Weeks With My Brother
-Nicholas Sparks


Shakespeare: the World as a Stage
-Bill Bryson


The Last Juror
The King of Torts
A Painted House
-John Grisham

A Wrinkle in Time
-Madeleine L'Engle(I copy/pasted the apostraphe)


The Blue Castle
-Lucy Maud Montgomery

There may be others that I have forgotten. If you add that to the books I read while traveling then I am on par for an average of a book a week for this year, probably my best average since high school.

The Source
-James A. Michener

The Man Who Was Thursday
-G.K Chesterton

Emma
Persuasion
-Jane Austen

Without Remorse
-Tom Clancy

A Walk in the Woods
-Bill Bryson

The Partner
-John Grisham

Love in the Time of Cholera
-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Here is the good news though. Some of my best stories, in my opinion, are from my tree planting days. Well those days are not over! Like a fool I am going back for another season so starting sometime in May I should have a better blog post than this. Misery always makes for good blogs.