Stress & Distractions

Lately, I've found my life settling into some sense of normalcy for the first time since my time on active duty in the Army which began in 2004.  That is, I've got steady work and a stable home with little likelihood of seismic, life-altering events in the future.  And gradually, I've begun to take better care of myself, eating better, drinking less, exercising more regularly.  Recently, it even occurred to me that I should resume my meditation practice.

This shift revealed one of the chief coping mechanisms I employed during that stressful period--distraction.  I got through active duty by consuming too much bourbon, Playstation 2, and Reno 911.



Immediately after Katrina, I found myself, while completely exhausted, nonetheless staying up to all hours, refusing to sleep, and learned of other New Orleanians doing the same.  And in recent years, my once voracious news consumption has been replaced with a voracious comedy consumption.  The news itself seems like a joke, jokes with many set-ups but the same punchline--The wealthy and powerful are fucking over everyone else.  Now if I'm going to consume jokes, I prefer ones that will make me laugh over those that will make me cry.  Of course, what all of these practices have in common is a desire to avoid reality, to give myself something to think about that is immediately more pleasurable than the horrible circumstances around me.

Over the last few weeks, I've found myself once again in stressful circumstances at work.  There, we're on a tight schedule to turn an exercise in research and development into something that is operational and sell-able. So when I initiated the next task at hand, I thought it would take me a day.  One day became one week then two and three, and gradually, I felt myself move from frustration to confusion and then panic.  And as my stress escalated, I found my good habits eroded by those bad ones.  My distraction low point has got to be one of two events--seeing the Green Lantern movie or playing the old Atari game Adventure.  (Man, were those Atari games shitty.)

Of course, I have fixed the problem at work which is why I'm taking time to write this.  But what's interesting to notice is how, when difficult circumstances arise, those difficult circumstances can overwhelm the entirety of my reality.  In this case, while work was proving frustrating, the rest of my life was fine; it just didn't feel fine.

On the local front, Nicole and I are experiencing the bizarre local weather of June--almost constant, pea-soup-like fog with temperatures never getting higher than 12 C/ 54 F.  I'm not thrilled with it, but I tell myself at least I'm not sweating my ass off.  Nicole has a bigger problem with it.

But speaking of sweating our asses off, we will be in New Orleans from July 22-30.  We hope to see you then.

A Great Weekend

Last weekend was a great one, and this one's not bad either, because it's 50% longer than the typical weekend.  But back to last weekend . . .

In my last post, you heard me talk about the poker game at the Rose and Thistle and how I'd found it frustrating at times.

The Rose and Thistle, where they believe in double awnings.

Last Saturday, I went back, determined to play looser.  Basically that meant hanging around in nominal hands (ie, having maybe a low pair), while others are raising like crazy.  Turns out I won the game and $280.  That is the single greatest victory of my life!  OK, not really, but at the time it did feel pretty damn good.

Actually, strictly speaking, I didn't win the game either.  Another player (Jeff, my nemesis) and I were in the top two.  The guy running the game gave us the option to simply split the pot.  While I would have liked to have played heads up, I took the option, because that evening I had to hurry off to the Ferryland, Newfoundland.

Our new friends, Michael and Donna, had invited us to attend a live music event in Ferryland and then spend the night in their cabin.

Michael's an interesting guy.  Like me, he grew up in the southern US (White House, Texas) and married a Canadian girl.  He's also very liberal, so we've had a lot interesting discussions about Southern culture and whatnot.  Another wrinkle, though, is that he's also British.  His parents are from the UK, and their work took them all over the world.

That night in Ferryland was nice.  There was a lot of nice music, the place was packed, and people were dancing and drinking like there's no tomorrow.  We left at midnight, and there were still two more acts to come.

We spent the night in Michael and Donna's quaint cabin with the wood-fired stove and got up the next morning and went for a walk.  Below you'll see a slideshow of the gorgeous countryside.

Speaking of good times, Nicole and I sent off the documents on the lawsuit after the house fire.  As most of you guessed, the settlement amount for indeed for less than two million, even less than one million.  The settlement was in the $10-20,000 range.  Certainly, that's a not a trivial amount of money.  But compared to the fact that the company destroyed my home, it doesn't quite seem like adequate compensation.  But then that's why lawyers are so demonized in the US, to make it almost impossible for regular people to gain adequate compensation when injured by the wealthy and powerful.  Mission accomplished!  (Note:  the wealthy and powerful always use lawyers.)

And in other good news, I got word at work that I'm going to be promoted.  

Catching Up

The demand for a new blog entry has become overwhelming, so here I am, scribbling just to please you, dear reader.

Basically, for the past two months, it's been a bit of a grind--a lot of get up, go to work, chill out a bit, rinse, repeat.  That's OK, but it's a quick way to burn through two months.

One of the ways I've been chilling out is playing poker at a local pub.  I think of myself as a decent player.  I played regularly in Texas and continue to on-line, not gambling in either case, just for fun.  Here, though, I find the style of play . . . different.  A lot of wild bets are being laid.  The last time I played I came as close as I ever have to an outburst in a game ("outburst," ahem, in a bad way).  It's been a few weeks since then.  I might try again today.  I have made some friends and acquaintances through the game, and that was the main point.

I did miss the wedding of my good friend Matt to Veronica, a fact I'm not happy about.

Photographer

Nicole and I were looking forward to it a great deal, an opportunity to visit friends and family in New Orleans and beat the snow for a while.  But when the time came, money was simply too tight.  Ah well.

Speaking of snow, my slideshow of St. John's Winter Wonderland should be working here.  (And mine of the Battlestar Galactica exhibit is here.)   There's a lot less snow in St. John's now.

Yesterday evening, on my way out of work, I noticed this scene from my office building.  The snow in the sun had largely melted, while the remaining snow matched the evening shadow of our building.  One of our office administrators got a big chuckle out of my interest in this, but being from the South, I'd just assumed that snow melted uniformly as it warmed up.  That's how it does melt when there is snow in the South.  But having spent several winters in Canada, I can tell you that snow in shady spots can linger for months.  (I find it interesting.)

I'll also tell you that we have a third cat, Mouse.

Mouse, on the left, relaxing with Ella.

Generally, I'd never intended to have a third cat.  But basically, this little street urchin ingratiated herself with Nicole (an easy task) while I was in Texas for a semester.  That and none of my Toronto friends would adopt her, especially John and Ann.  She's a sweet cat, though, and I'm glad she's no longer on the street; she's the luckiest stray cat in Ontario.  She's a grey tabby like Oleanna, but they're very different cats.  Oleanna was long and sleak; Mouse is short and stubby, a furry little bowling ball.  Oleanna was very affectionate; Mouse is still a bit skiddish with that.

That link for Oleanna is to a blog entry about the anniversary of my house fire.  Apropos of that, I can tell you that just last week we reached a settlement against the company whose product started the fire.  I'll blog more about that later.  For now, I welcome your guesses about the size of the settlement:
Free Website Poll

The soundtrack for this blog entry was my friend Alex's nice, mellow music available here.

My Trip Out West

A couple of months ago, I was thinking about the people we know living out west.  Lisa and Elana had just moved to Vancouver.  My friend Tony had been in Seattle for a few years, as had Phil and Morgan.  I thought it'd be nice to have a vacation out there and visit both cities and all those friends.  Then, a few days later, my boss told me about the American Meteorological Society conference in Seattle and that we ought to go, and that was that.

One thing for sure, I didn't want to fly directly to Seattle because I didn't want to expose myself to the TSA's abusive practices.  My plan was to fly to Vancouver on Friday, hang out with Lisa and Elana over the weekend, and then take the train down to Seattle.  Unfortunately on Thursday afternoon I got a call that Lisa's mother was about to pass away, and that they had to hurry back to Toronto.

I was able to reschedule my flight to Sunday morning--early Sunday morning.

The view from my first flight on the trip.

But that also meant I would do all the traveling--from St. John's to Vancouver then down to Seattle--in one day, 22 hours of straight travel.  Several things made the trip easier, though.  I made the trip across the continent in only two flights.  I had exit-row or bulkhead seats for all of my flights.  And on the plane, I was able to watch most of the NFC championship game.  It was a long day, but it could have been worse.

In Seattle, I only had one chance to get together with Phil.  Unfortunately on that day, he injured his eye pruning some grape vines.  (What a wino!)  So we weren't able to get together.

I wasn't able to get together with Morgan either; she was sick that week.  When I told her where I was staying, she said my hotel was right in her neighborhood.  I thought it might have been a few blocks to a few miles from her place.  No, when I stepped out of the hotel and looked to my right, hers was the first building I saw.  I walked by it several times a day, yet strangely we didn't get together.  Ah well.

I was able to get together with Tony, though.

Tony, after I said, "Smile."

On Tuesday, he took me to a bar with 100+ beers on tap.  Then Thursday night, we went to the Science Fiction Museum, where they had a Battlestar Galactica exhibit.  You can see my slide show of the exhibit here.

The Sci Fi Museum's exhibit of the Tree of Life from Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain, a film I highly recommend.

After the museum, we did some old-school bar hopping in a cool Seattle neighborhood whose name escapes me due to the old-school bar hopping.  We had a great visit.

In Seattle, a single of Bailey's in a regular tumbler.

(Let me now point out how impressed I was by the generosity of the Seattle bartenders.  Having grown accustomed to Canadian pours, I ordered a double whiskey; I got a full tumbler of booze.  Canucks, I love ya, but this is one area the Americans have over you.)

The view from the train.

As I've documented, the next morning did not go well, yet that had little to do with the night before.  Fortunately, Elana was able to pick me up at the train station.  Sadly, Lisa's mother did pass away that week, and she'd stayed in Toronto to attend to family business.  Elana and I had a great visit, though, and it did involve alcohol.  It also involved an early flight the next morning as well.

BLOG FLASHBACK:  Previously on UITGWN, I described how the circumstances precipitating my marrying Nicole had involved a trip to Vancouver and Seattle.  While in Vancouver, Nicole and I had brunched in Havana, a cool restaurant.  So when Elana and I were bar-hopping in her cool neighborhood, I was shocked to see and recognize the place, which I'd all but forgotten.  "I've eaten there," I said, which surprised her because she'd just learned about the place.  At the end of the evening, I dragged her there for dessert, which means she watched me eat creme brulee' as we each had one last white Russian.

Havana.

After the border incident on my trip with Nicole, I had returned to Seattle without her and went to a neighborhood bar to drink my sorrows away.  The next morning, I woke up late, still a little drunk, and had to speed through the Seattle rain to return my rental car and make my flight.  Last week as I walked to the Sci Fi Museum, I walked past the place, the 5 Point Bar.

5 Point, a friendly bar worth photographing but not worth crossing the street for.

It was odd to have this trip out west echoing that momentous trip from several years ago.  END FLASHBACK


So on this trip, I saw 40% of the friends I'd planned on.  That's less than I'd hoped, but I enjoyed all my time with them.  I noticed, too, how booze figured prominently in this blog entry.  That's telling me something . . . my friends like to drink too much.


Now I will leave you with a slideshow of the winter wonderland that's befallen St. John's.  Click here.

A Tale of Two Days in My City

Wednesday was only the second sunny day we've had in 2011.  Fortunately, Nicole and I had the good sense to take time to appreciate it on my lunch break.  We went to the top of Signal Hill and enjoyed the view.

It was good that we enjoyed that beautiful Wednesday, because this was Thursday.

Over a foot of snow fell on Thursday.

 The cold wasn't so bad, but getting around was a scary proposition.  St. John's is full of steep hills that don't make for great driving conditions when covered in snow.  In fact, on Thursday, a snow plow plowed into two cars parked on my street (which is very steep). 

When I moved here, my transportation plan for the winter was to live in downtown and have practically everything we need within walking distance (check!) and take the bus to work (no check).  For several months now, the bus drivers have been on strike.  And while I'm sympathetic to the union, I can't help but feel like they've overplayed their hand.  The strike's going on this long has trained people to get along without them and perhaps demonstrated that they're not that valuable.  Drivers, cut a deal and get back to work!

But back to the snow--I had the good fortune of putting my Firebird in storage before all of it hit.  But the guy storing it lives just out of town at an elevation even higher than Signal Hill, so there was some snow at his place.  When I got out, here's what I saw.

My size-12 boot print among the moose prints.

Moose prints.  First, I was impressed with the sight of them, how smooth and round their edges were and how nearly symmetrical they were.  Then once the mechanic confirmed it, I was impressed that I had correctly identified them in the first place.  

The snow's still lingering for now, though fortunately, it's not falling like it was on Thursday.  And really the cold's not bad either.  Now that things have settled down, I'm enjoying it.

 

Merry Boxing Day, a Better New Year, and Belated Christmas

The Georgian Bay at Midland, Ontario.

Like last year, Nicole and I are spending Christmas at her parents' place in Midland.  Her mother lives to cook, so you can't go wrong.  It's been a relaxing, enjoyable time.

Unfortunately though, this is as close as I'm going to get to sending a Christmas card.  This year I just had too many papers to push; Christmas cards simply weren't . . . in the cards.  But I hope all of you had a good one.

For me this is the first time I've taken any time off since I started my job, time that is needed.  Since starting, I've unleashed my inner workaholic, often working through weekends and holidays.  It's also good to be in Ontario.  Sure, Ontario is colder staying just below freezing, while St. John's has had an atypical winter often as warm as 8 degrees Celsius.  Nevertheless, the weather is better in Ontario, as St. John's has been hit with two solid weeks of driving rain.  (By "solid" I mean 196 uninterrupted hours of.)

On Monday, we're going down to Toronto to hang out and visit friends.

Visitor #2 and other events

This week I had the pleasure of my second visitor to Newfoundland, Dr. Sukanta Basu.

Sukanta was my favorite professor during the Wind Energy program at Texas Tech.  I had some good teachers at Texas Tech and one not so good one, but it's no understatement to say Sukanta's training made an enormous difference in my program.  This week he came to St. John's, because my company hired him as a consultant, training me and a co-worker further and advising us on our wind forecasting project.  We worked really hard but also got to hang out and get to know each other better.  So it was a great experience.

The view from my front porch.

This week we got hit with our first snow that hung around for any length of time.  The onset of heavy snow has been a concern, because I need to get the Firebird in storage beforehand.  Of course, I needed to get it registered here before that.  So that meant a lengthy, tedious process of importing, getting inspections and insurance, and finally getting both cars registered.  Friday, at long last, I put the Newfie plates on my cars.  I'm now done with lionshare of bullshit regarding car ownership.

Tomorrow I'm off to Montreal for even more training with Environment Canada.  I'm looking forward to gaining even more skills, and I'm looking forward to spending time in the city.  It should be great.

St. John's Slide Show

"A Time" on George Street

After I mentioned the possibility of a slide show of St. John's, I was barraged by requests--nay!  demands--from followers of my blog for just such a slide show.  So relax, people.  Just click HERE to see it.  You might want to slow down the player's speed to read my captions.

It's hardly an exhaustive presentation.  Largely, I just took a few photos, as Nicole and I walked to our gym in the center of the city.  But I think it does offer a glimpse into the city's charms.

(Look at this!  An election just occurred, and I'm not saying anything political.)

Catch All

I've been really busy at work these last two weeks, though I'm glad to have a productive task to give myself to.  I've been expanding the capabilities of an existing computer program, which is a living example of every bad programming practice.  At one point, I needed a break and went to see "The Social Network" about the founding of facebook and got to watch the fictionalized Mark Zuckerberg programming away.  I identified with him completely.  Though of course by the end of the movie, he ends up a billionaire, and I am not one.   Though I do have more friends than he did at the end of the movie (none).  So I'd say I'm richer than he is.  (And yes, that means you can expect me to ask you for a loan soon.)  Nevertheless like Zuckerberg, I've neglected other aspects of my life (including this blog), and I've got to correct that.

I'd intended to offer a slide show of St. John's, but that's not going to happen tonight.  When asked what St. John's is like, I have to say "Ireland."  And I say that without having spent one second in Ireland.  But from what I've seen they're quite similar--green rolling hills over rocky terrain jutting out into the Atlantic.  St. John's is actually closer to Ireland  than it is to New Orleans.  But I guess the clincher is that the local accent is a real, full-on brogue.  (It is not the Canadian accent, eh.)  I'm constantly asked about my accent, and I think My accent?!  Have you listened to yourself?

Just the other evening, I was leaving a grocery store when a local guy ask me for money.  I gave him some change, and he asked if I had time for a joke.  Sure.  An old man . . . and after that he lost me.  His voice became just a low, ripple of rolly's, lolly's, holly's. So as I stood there, looking at him, I wondered how his face got so damn freckled this far north, and then I realized--out on the sea, fishing.  About that time, he reached the punchline.  I knew because he showed me his god-awful teeth in a big grin.  I gave him a convincing laugh and a nod and went on my way.

The Move

As I've stated, I felt bad that I couldn't help Nicole with the move out of Toronto.  So she and her 70+-year-old parents were left to load up a 14-foot U-Haul truck on their own.  (On the other hand, I told Nicole to hire movers, but she said was too busy to get around to it.  I say she was too busy not to.)  Some twelve exhausting hours later, they got the truck loaded.  Or so I thought.

When I called her around ten the next morning to see how their drive was going, they were still loading things.  But by about 10:30, they did depart.  Unfortunately, somewhere near the Ontario-Quebec border, a trucker dozed off and rammed his truck into a bridge over the main highway.  The trucker was unhurt, but his truck exploded.  More to the point, traffic was stopped for hours.  Nicole and her parents ended up stranded in a truckstop, whereupon learning the cause of the hold-up, Nicole proceeded to mock the incompetence of the said driver (in a truckstop).  They didn't make it to Montreal as they'd planned. 

Meanwhile, as I stated, Newfoundland was shit-hammered by Hurricane Igor.  No it does not compare to Hurricane Katrina.  But it was serious.  One man was killed.  Lots of homes were flooded, and more roads were washed out.  I was without power for two days.  And I also got my first direct exposure to hurricane-force winds, learning firsthand of the phenomenon "stinging rain."  As I told my co-workers, "In Louisiana, we stay home when a hurricane hits."

But the effects of Igor weren't done with us.  When Nicole and her parents arrived at North Sydney, Nova Scotia, they found the ferry--the last of the season that goes directly to St. John's--getting filled with military personnel and their heavy equipment.  They were going to assist with the post-hurricane clean-up, and it was looking like, because of that, our U-Haul wouldn't make it on.  Fortunately, Nicole's mother, Maria, was on the scene.  She's a little, septuagenarian with a thick German accent, and when she sets her mind to something, it's hard to say "no" to her.  She spoke to three different ferry personnel before getting assured the U-Haul would be included.

The ferry ride was 16 hours.  Fortunately, Nicole and her parents had their own cabin.  But the cats were left in the cabin of the cars.  And it freaked them out pretty good.  Ella spent the whole trip under the passenger's seat.

Fortunately, though, they arrived Saturday afternoon.  And the next day, we unloaded the U-Haul.  That is, I hired movers.  Best $169 I ever spent.

Canadian Milestones

This week, I've passed several milestones for life in Canada.

I've had my first visitor to St. John's.  (I know--that was fast.)  Elana had actually planned the trip before I got the job here.  (So she's staying in a hotel and not sharing the inflatable mattress with me.)  Circumstances provided a fortuitous bit of company and a good excuse to go out and drink more.  I also got my first taste of local music, a pretty good local band Quiet Elephant.  I'm glad I got to see Elana again.  She and her wife, Lisa, have been among the best friends Nicole and I have made in Toronto.

Second, I got my Ontario Health Plan card.

Me, post-sex & name changes.

That's right!  The horror of socialized medicine is upon me.  Oh, and the death panel--THE DEATH PANEL!  I felt like Charlton Heston in "The Planet of the Apes," stripped down and made to stand before that board of bureaucratic baboons.  They only gave me two years to live!  And I said, "Well hell, why bother with this fucking job, then?"  Oh, Auntie Sarah Palin, why didn't I listen to you?

Ahem, so this is where I point out that, based on everything I observed over 2+ years, there's no perceptible difference between the quality of treatment you receive in Canada vs. the US.  Are there waits?  Sometimes, but no different  than those you'd find in the US.  If you need immediate care, you go to a walk-in clinic or emergency room, just as you would in the US.  The big difference is that, here, there's no bill waiting for you.

I know, I know, that bill is in the higher taxes, right?  Because everyone knows in Canada they take half of your salary in taxes, yes?  Well, I just got my first paycheck in Canada, and its deductions for taxes looked no different than what I'd experienced in the US for comparable pay. 

It's almost like someone lied to us, so thoroughly flooding public discourse with misinformation that the misinformation becomes the default public perception, even when the perception bears no semblance to reality.  Why would anyone do such a thing?  I can't imagine.

It's back, baby!

With this new chapter in my life, I'm reviving this blog, "Up in the Great White North."  Perhaps that's because, having moved to St. John's, Newfoundland, I feel like I'm much more "up in" the great white North.  To me, St. John's is a more exotic location than Toronto as well, one that prompts reflection.

Downtown St. John's

 Generally, I feel great about where I am right now.  St. John's is the oldest English-speaking city in North America, a charming port city overlooking the Atlantic.  It's got a lot to offer in terms night life, theater, and music, and once Nicole arrives here, I look forward to it exploring it with her.  It's also got a small geographical footprint making it very walkable and bike-able, and the people here are friendly.  I'll have more to say about it throughout the course of this blog.  Nicole and I would welcome any visitors here.

Water Street in downtown.

I also like my new job.  The work is challenging, but such aspirations only hone my skills.  And I get along great with my co-workers.  It's a great environment.

The trip here was interesting, too.  It took me through Quebec and the Atlantic provinces, on to an 8-hour overnight ferry ride.  I was warned that north of Quebec City no one speaks English.  Naturally, it was well north of the city that my car gave me trouble.   And when the CAA truck pulled up, the first thing the driver said was, "I don't speak English.  Do you speak French?"  I had to shake my head.  But he helped me get the car started to my great relief, and I happily gave him a $10 tip.  (Contrary to a lot rumors, I found the Quebecois pretty friendly.)  Once I landed on Newfoundland, I immediately saw a moose.  (In Newfoundland, moose out number people and are involved in a lot of serious car accidents.)  Fortunately, it was beside the road and not looming over it.

And now, I must reflect on my car which got me here.  Arriving here in St. John's, the Firebird has completed a 3,300 mile trip from New Orleans.  The car's 42 years old.  It's got an engine that's quite historic and rare, only manufactured for two years.  That is, it was only manufactured for two years because back in the day the engine was a mechanical disaster, "the Temple of Doom" my mechanic called it.  But Eddie, that same mechanic, re-built the engine and clearly did a hell of a job.  And despite the rat-a-tat-tat of its overhead cam, it runs like a top.  I'd like to call Eddie and tell him how far his work has taken me, but sadly his excellent shop didn't survive Katrina.  Also, this 42 year old muscle car gets 20 miles per gallon on the highway!  There are far too many modern cars that can't match that.  So here's to Eddie and Francis who took such good care of my sweet ride!