Marathon Plan

Since all marathons, as far as I know, are held on Sunday mornings, it just so happens that I could run a marathon on my 30th birthday, which will be on Sunday, January 29, 2012. So that's the plan. I found out there's a race in Miami that day. There will likely be others, but I like the idea that there is definitely the option of running somewhere without snow in January. I'm going to have to start training today. Ok, tomorrow. Sometime soon anyway.

The End of Moby Dick

Finished reading Moby Dick tonight! So glad that one's done. The story started with such promise, being all witty and exciting in its promise of first-person adventure on the high seas... and then it turned into something weird and long and not a little bit boring in parts. Cetology is not a subject I will further investigate.

No matter - another item off my list.

Previous posts related to Moby Dick:

(Sept. 8, 2008)
Wanted, The White Whale, and the End of Moby Dick

(Aug. 5, 2008)
Halfway Around the World

(July 20, 2008)
Progress On Board and In the Air

(July 5, 2008)
Call Me Ishmeal

Headline Here

Today's top story:

First semester of J-school done, one more to go, and I'm extremely happy to have December off. All I see when I close my eyes at night is unedited text, taunting me with its imperfection. Poorly delivered radio rants, blurry stand-alone photos, and unattributed sources will be my downfall.

In other news:

This month I intend to finish reading Moby Dick (so close!) and go climbing a few times. Also, maybe, but probably not, get back into running. Might milk a cow too, since a friend of a friend conveniently lives on a dairy farm. So I may be back on track with the life list. Or I may just veg for three or four weeks before the insanity starts again in the new year.

For MKM News,
I'm Marelle Reid

Everything on Hold

About two weeks ago I broke my hand, so for now I am putting off all juggling, climbing, and guitar playing. It turns out that blocking a roundhouse kick with one's hand is not a good idea. Right now I've got a big ugly splint on my right middle finger and am becoming quite proficient at brushing my teeth with my left. It's just too bad ambidexterity is not one of my life goals.

Back to the Wall

Years ago I used to go rock climbing at a gym with a couple of friends about once every two months. But we never really tried to work on our technique or even follow set routes, we just went as fast as we could to the top. Back then I never had a problem with acrophobia. Things have changed. I have subsequently developed a fear of heights and am now determined to conquer it while learning to climb properly.

Climbing at the gym tonight with a couple of classmates has left my forearms feeling like jell-o. We just did bouldering to work on technique, and I'm glad for that, because a) I need a lot of practice, and b) it meant I didn't have to get too high. Sweaty palms, heart palpitations, and choking panic attacks are to be expected when I do eventually make the attempt to climb with a harness. Perhaps as soon as next week.

The bouldering was very difficult but a lot of fun. My classmates are stellar climbers and were able to give me a lot of tips - getting close to the wall, matching feet, pinching the smaller holds, etc. The plan is to take an intro course and then go to the gym about once a week. Perhaps by next summer I may be ready to do a real outdoor climb.

Wanted: The White Whale and The End of the BIG BOOK

That damn whale is still being elusive. I wish Ahab would just find him already and either kill him or die trying, as he claims to want to do. The Pequod has already found and mutilated a bunch of other whales, so what's one more? I'm so done with this book and I've still got about thirty chapters to go. Trying to read one chapter in bed every night. Last night it was all about the carpenter fashioning a new peg leg for the captain out of another whale bone. Enthralling.

Have heard nothing about Queequeg for a while. Maybe he and Ishmael are no longer enjoying each other's company as they did back in their cozy bed in Nantucket. A falling out over some petty thing or another. Shame really. Queequeg was such a gentle cannibal.

Chicken

This week I went back to college to study journalism and moved out of my parents' place for the second (third?) time. Had to go back this evening to pick up a couple of things and was asked to stay for dinner. When I got there my mom said we were having chicken. I reminded her that I am a vegetarian and have been for two weeks, but I when I saw the look on her face I said, ok, yes, I'd eat the chicken she was serving. She looked perturbed, and I figured, I'm hungry, the chicken is dead, and I had no part of its death or the funding of its death. So I ate it.

Can I still call myself a vegetarian? Does this make me a lapsed vegetarian? Does it make me a flexi-tarian? I didn't WANT to eat the chicken. I wouldn't have eaten the chicken under other circumstances (eg. cooking it myself). And I don't plan on eating it again if I can help it.

But at what point can I really call myself a vegetarian? It's a conundrum.

#1 - Novel Written

I did it. I started writing a novel on Friday night (Saturday morning, technically) and finished it last night. Three crazy days of creative writing have produced 96 pages,

which are currently sitting in an envelope on my desk. I will mail them in to Anvil Press tomorrow as proof of my participation in the 3-Day Novel Contest and eagerly await the certificate in the mail that acknowledges my effort, if not my talent.

Two things I learned:

      1) Writing a novel does not need to take years. In fact, it is probably easier to keep the facts straight if you don’t wait six months between chapters and forget that a character who has a broken leg in chapter 2 is unlikely to be snowboarding the next day in chapter 5.

      2) If you try to write a novel in three days you really shouldn’t expect to be in the same state of mind at the end as at the start. With very little sleep and Oreo cookies as the main staple of your diet you are going to find that the ending is trite, overly-sentimental, and maybe even incoherent because you were racing the clock and semi-conscious when you finally pounded it out.

Anyway, I’m glad I did it, and now I suppose I can cross another item off my list. Though I’m far from feeling that I no longer need to think about creative writing anymore. This experience was just an appetizer really. A first attempt. The practice round. Now I want to try to write a novel that is worthy of submitting for publication. Something that I can see one day on a shelf in Chapters. For the next one I think I’m going to need more than three days.

Previous posts related to Writing a Novel:

(Aug. 23, 2008)
Seizing the Day

(Aug. 8, 2008)
To be a writer

Running Goal

I was just thinking to myself that it would be really cool to run a marathon on my thirtieth birthday. As far as I know, races are pretty much always held on Sunday mornings, and it just so happens that my 30th will fall on a Sunday. Very exciting! I think it's fate. Now I need to figure out which city will be hosting a marathon (besides the Olympics in London) and get going with my training!

A couple of days ago I went for a short run. It was the first time I'd run more than twenty paces in about six months, and I managed 3 km. I think I could have probably gone farther, but I'm glad I didn't try to because my quads are still aching today. Clearly I have fallen off the running bandwagon.

Not going to worry too much at the moment, however, because as of midnight tonight my entire focus will be on writing a novel over the course of this long weekend. It will be a literary marathon of sorts.

One Week Meat-Free (Almost)

It's been a week since I decided to delete flesh from my diet. I made a massive pot of vegetarian chili (vegan, technically), which has been great for dinners and lunches. Have been eating more fruit too. I suppose being a vegetarian is more healthy by default.

Cooking for myself has made this dietary shift easier - I must admit I have been eating more fish to make up for the ingrained idea that I must get a certain daily intake of protein. I just can't stand the thought of eating nothing but beans and apples. And, of course, I love sushi. If sushi was made from mammals I don't think I would be strong enough to go through with becoming a vegetarian. Salmon sashimi is third on my list of the best things to eat in the world, after chocolate and coffee. If I were on death row my last meal would definitely include raw fish, espresso, and dark chocolate.

Which leads me to a confession - I wasn't strong enough on Saturday night to avoid the temptation of a fast-food (read: made without love) hamburger after drinking a wee bit. I only ate about two thirds of it and immediately (or at least the next day, when I was sober) felt guilty. So I slipped up. Smokers and other addicts do this and don't give up, right? I got right back on the horse. That was my last burger. I can quit anytime I want to. Though I feel like I might need a sponsor once my life becomes hectic again. It's common knowledge that we are most likely to buckle when under stress and give into our baser desires. Are there twelve steps to going veggie? There should be.

Seizing the Day

This morning I woke up just before 9 and realized that it's Saturday. Being unemployed for the last month or so, weekends don't really mean anything to me anymore. However, this is likely going to be the last Saturday for a long time that I will get to have this weekend feeling upon waking up.

I have decided to go for it, to throw myself headlong into the insanity that is the 3 Day Novel Writing Contest www.3daynovel.com. I'm going to attempt to write a novel. Carpe Diem and all that. (Robin Williams would be proud.) It starts next Saturday at 12:01 am and ends Monday at 11:59pm. I can only imagine the agony. And I have to be in class early Tuesday morning.

But the best way for me to write anything is under extreme pressure, and this contest is all about pressure. I have an idea for a plot, now I just need to fashion a sort of outline, determine characters, and choose a narrative perspective. First-person I'm thinking, or is that too obvious?
Anyway, this isn't exactly how I imagined myself writing a novel - I was thinking sometime in my forties, after a long life of cynical news writing, I would one day embark on a long journey through years of wrestling with my literary demons and writing, bit by bit, my magnum opus, which I would naturally love and hate and end up leaving and coming back to like a bad lover until I was in my sixties and could finally retire and find the time to finish "The Book" - but this three day thing seems so much nicer.

And it's a great excuse to drink unhealthy amounts of coffee! Nothing says "I'm writing a novel" like a big ugly mug of black brew.

To be a vegetarian

In the mail this morning I received my "vegetarian starter kit" from PETA. It's actually just a fancy flyer, but they've got some good recipes and resources and, of course, a whole section on the various ways animals are cruelly treated in the meat industry. Oh, and humorously, they include a bunch of quotes from celebrities who are veggies. I'm sure some people will stop eating chickens because Joaquin Phoenix says it's not cool to eat them, but personally I've got more realistic reasons to cut out meat.

First, I ate some bad pork bits (rinds or something?) after a workout a few years ago because I thought protein would be a good idea. Turns out it was a very, very bad idea. Within two hours of eating the meat I was experiencing the worst stomach cramps of my life, followed by the forceful expulsion of the offending food from both ends. After that I was put off pork for quite some time. I doubt a plate of fruit and crackers would have caused me such distress.

Second, it's become pretty obvious to me that the meat industry, at least in first-world countries, has managed to stream-line the production and distribution of animal parts in the same way as any other mass-produced commodity. The problem is that while softwood lumber does not suffer when cut and packaged, animals unfortunately do. After seeing a big truck with the chickens stuffed in little cramped boxes for the first time I was horrified and vowed to never eat another chicken. (This didn't last, especially during my time in South Korea, but I hope to get back on track.)

Third, it's so easy now to find meat (and even dairy) alternatives, and it seems to be healthier to eat less or no meat. Eating more fruits and vegetables is without a doubt a smart move, and in cutting out meat one is forced to be more conscious of diet. So it's healthier for people and certainly healthier for the piggies.

I don't think it's going to be easy to be so careful about what I'm eating every day, and it's going to be tempting to want to eat meat for a while, but I'll get over it. If I lived on a farm and humanely killed an animal and cured the meat myself I would feel justified in eating it. However, living in the suburbs and being able only to buy meat from the giant grocery chains, I can only assume that I am supporting this industry of animal cruelty.

So here goes my initial attempt to become a full-fledged vegetarian.

Minor Setback

Went to tune my guitar and broke the E string. Dammit. I heard a twitching sound and then all of a sudden "zzzz-poing!" the lovely shiny new string snapped and then hung there slackly, mocking me.

Looks like Classical Gas is just not going to happen today.

Life, or Something

Making a list is good for some people like me who can easily spend an hour in a chair in the living room staring at the unlit fireplace thinking about what might transpire in the future, and what life is really all about. Some people need to write things down to make them happen. If you don't know what you want out of life then how will you get it?

Deciding what you want and then going for it sounds so much easier than it is though. There are a few things that I would like, but I have to make them more concrete. It is helpful to be specific. Two summers ago, just after I had finished university, I remember I was all dreamy and floating on my back in a swimming pool late one night, looking up at the stars, thinking that everything would just coalesce as time unfolded before me.

That’s just not how life works though. Only sometimes will the door of opportunity be opened for you and a hand held out to guide you through. Most of the time you’ve got to break the goddamn wall down on your own just to get to the other side. And the crazy thing is, you’ve got to know what it is that’s on the other side before you start hammering away so that you have a reason to want to break the wall down in the first place. Otherwise you’ll just be sitting alone in a dark room that everyone else has left with stale cake and confetti lying around. Pretty sad.

I still can't juggle. But I'm still trying because, for now, it's something to do.

First Amendment

Okay, so I was thinking about goal #97 - "score a hole-in-one at a mini golf course", and I've decided to delete that one and replace it with "become a vegetarian" because, well, I'm just not that crazy about mini golf, and I think eating pigs is unethical and kind of gross. Also, it just seems like a more worthwhile pursuit.

Incidentally, it seems Herman Melville may have been a PETA supporter had he lived today. In the chapter entitled "The Whale as a Dish," the narrator suggests that anyone who thinks cannibalism is immoral might want to re-think their own flesh-eating habits before throwing stones:

"Go to the meat-market of a Saturday night and see the crowds of live bipeds staring up at the long rows of dead quadrupeds. Does not that sight take a tooth out of the cannibal's jaw? ... Who is not a cannibal? I tell you it will be more tolerable for the Fejee that salted down a lean missionary in his cellar against a coming famine... than for thee, civilised and enlightened gourmand, who nailest geese to the ground and feastest on their bloated livers in thy pate-de-fois-gras." [415]

To be a writer

If I could do only more item on my list before I die, I would definitely choose the first one: write a novel. For as long as I can remember that is something I have wanted to do, but have always fiddled around doing anything else instead. Why? Because, like everybody else... I fear failure. So I have never even made a start. Sure, poems, short stories, unfinished things that get shredded weeks later. But I want to write something of substance. Something that takes every single ounce of my physical, intellectual, and spiritual energy. (Surely that is the only way to write something great?) Unfortunately there are always distractions. And when there are none I invent them. Procrastination looms large.

Truman Capote started writing "seriously" when he was 11 years old. He came home from school every day and, while others his age may have been shooting hoops or practicing the piano, he wrote for three hours. Is that what it means to be a writer? Is it the time spent in the act of writing, or the number of works one has published that is important? Does it take a certain type of eccentric character? Should I start smoking cigarettes and talk to my houseplants? Wear only black?

What is a writer? I suppose the definition is vague. Many people could legitimately call themselves writers. But then there are those people in the world whose writing is of a caliber which can change the course of the lives of everyone who reads them. Nothing, not even the brightest fireworks or the most profoundly stirring music can do for me what some passages in a few novels can do. The hair on my neck stands up.

George Orwell said something along the lines of a writer being a collector of odds and ends, of snippets of conversations, themes, words, and ideas; each an important piece, like a grain of sand that, when brought together and melted down into one mass, is turned into a strong, clear pane of glass that becomes the frame through which a reader comes to see language illuminated. I want to be a collector of sand, gathering the grains together over time, observing everything that might be turned into a story. I would love to create a window pane that is so clear the reader doesn’t even know it’s there, seeing only what it frames.

Chekhov said, "Man will become better only when he sees what he is like." Some writers do make people see what they are like. And in so doing, they change the world. If I could write something that changes only one person, I would be happy. But of course I'm getting way ahead of myself, which is always the problem. I just need to start writing a little bit every day and see where it eventually takes me. And I'll still work on the rest of my list when I'm not writing!

Halfway Around the World

Moby Dick update: I'm halfway through, and suspect that I will have to wait till the very end of the book to meet the title character.

I like Melville's changes of pace in the novel - he often leaves the plot for a chapter or two to explain what a "gam" is (a social meeting of two or more whaling ships) or to wax philosophical:

"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own." [319]

However, the lengthy digressions in which he goes on for entire chapters about, for example, the various types of whales, are, in my opinion, boring, and only pad the story with filler which could be found in any encyclopedia should the reader develop an insatiable desire to discover the most intricate details of whales and the history of whaling in general. In another chapter Ishmael explains that the whiteness of the whale signals mystery and deception. An. Entire. Chapter. Get on with the story, man!

Considering that even readers in his own day (1851 - when there was no YouTube) thought this was a rather boggy text, I don't feel too bad for feeling like it's a bit of a slog to get through parts of this book. Fortunately there are many lines which are pure poetry, and the story is overall an excellent and intriguing adventure. Will Ahab finally find Moby Dick? Will the whale be killed? If so, what will Ahab do once his quest for revenge is over? Will Ishmael want to go wailing ever again? Will the ship even make it back to Nantucket? I guess I'll just have to keep reading to find out.

New Guitar Strings

I have an old acoustic guitar that has been gathering dust for the past few months in my room because the D string broke. Yesterday a friend came over for dinner and surprised me with a new set of strings. So now I've got a playable guitar and a new skill in re-stringing. It's been a while since I've practiced and many, many moons since I took lessons as a kid. One day I'll make an attempt at reading music again, and learn to play Classical Gas better than Mason Williams, but for now, I'm just going to try to play more often the stuff that I already know. Like Nirvana. Oh, how I miss the early 90's...

Crawl Before You Walk

If I'm to ever accomplish goal #7 - get a painting into a gallery - I'm going to have to start small and start now. With drawing. I'll get to painting once I've got this down. So I've started sketching and learning to draw properly using the 1979 best-seller Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. Excellent book. According the author, Betty Edwards, drawing (meaning composing a realistic image with pencil or graphite on paper) can be taught just as reading and writing and arithmetic can be taught. She says there are five basic elements to drawing well:

1. Perception of edges/contours
2. Perception of shadows and light
   
3. Perception of relationships - perspective and proportion
   
4. Perception of space - positive and negative
   
5. Perception of the "thingness" of the thing (huhwhat?)

Drawing the hand is supposedly one of the most difficult things to draw well, so of course Betty asks you to go ahead and do a sketch of your left hand. I think I have no real trouble with the perception of contour, but the shading is not right. Anyway, I'm only on lesson two in the book, which is on the perception of negative space. (Very Zen, all this "draw what is not there" stuff.)

Progress on Board and In the Air

Been practicing the ball tossing while standing next to my bed and listening to Bach. The height of the bed means that when I drop the balls I don't have to keep bending over to pick them up, and the music helps to keep a rhythm. At this point I've got one rotation down - I can get all three balls in the air and catch them, but that's where it stops. So it's a slow process, this learning to juggle.

As for Moby Dick, I've reached chapter 35, which means that Ishmeal and Queequeg have finally boarded The Pequod and met captain Ahab, and I'm about one sixteenth of the way through the book. Have yet to meet the whale.

Learning to juggle

Yesterday I met up with a busker friend of mine who gave me a few tips on how to juggle. It seems there are a lot of ways and things to juggle, but I just want to get the basic three ball routine down. I never expected juggling to be easy, but I went to a barbecue last night after my juggling lesson, and was surprised to find that everyone there (I mean EVERYONE) could juggle like it was nothing. People I've known for years who were all like, "Oh, yeah, I can juggle. Check it out."  And then they proceeded to perform a circus act while carrying on the previous conversation and drinking their beers. Where was I when everyone learned to do this? The irony of it is I actually took a clowning course at university but we did not learn this skill.

I'm thinking either I shouldn't bother to learn since it's obviously so passé, (unless I can quickly progress to juggling fire and live chain saws, which may turn a head or two) or I'd better damn well learn otherwise I'll be the only one in town who can't keep her balls in the air. Or, um, something along those lines. Anyway, it's on my list, and I've already made juggling balls, so I might as well just get on with it.

Here's a simple recipe for juggling balls that don't bounce and have good grip:

1. Wrap a few handfuls of dry rice in cellophane (make the ball of rice smaller or larger depending on your hand size)
2. Cut the spout off a regular (12") balloon and stuff the rice ball into the balloon
3. Cut the spout off another balloon and wrap the first one with it 

Now make a couple more and you've got yourself a nice homemade set to learn with. Or just to throw at the neighbour's cat if juggling really isn't your thing. 

Call me Ishmael

Started reading Moby Dick a few days ago and was surprised to find that Herman Melville had a great sense of humour. I thought he would be all serious and difficult to read. (I also mistakenly thought he was British, so I've clearly got a lot to learn.) Here's an excerpt from page one:

"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself pausing involuntarily before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball." [31, CRW Publishing]

Ha ha, I like this guy. The narrator introduces himself and tells his reader that a while ago he was bored and depressed, and, as he always does whenever he feels like this, he goes to sea to "sail about a little and see the watery part of the world." That does sound like a great way to rejuvenate the soul. Makes me wish I owned a yacht.

#81 - my name in wet cement

What luck! - the City decided to install a new section of sidewalk right outside my parents' house, and I, of course, decided to write my name in it before it dried. It actually wasn't wet by the time I got home from work, it was just soft enough to carve with my house key, but for all intents and purposes, I think it qualifies as an item off my list.

This was on June 25, as is evident from the photo, but I've waited until now to post because I wasn't sure if the City workers would pave over it when they came to take the cones away. Fortunately, I have faced no charges for vandalism and it looks like my name is there to stay. Three down, 97 to go!

#43 - Puzzle solved

Penguins! All 1000 pieces of them are now together.

Went out to a drugstore and bought a jigsaw puzzle about two months ago. The choices were the expected windmills and puppies, and penguins were as different as I could find. (Why can't they make puzzles with slightly more exciting pictures? A sexy puzzle would definitely provide more incentive to put it together. But I guess a sexy jigsaw puzzle is the ultimate oxymoron.)

Took a while to finish it, but I just worked on it every other day or so while watching the news. Great to get it done, another item off my list. Can't say I'm too enthused about doing any more jigsaw puzzling though!

From my experience, this is the fastest way to put together a jigsaw puzzle:

1. pick out edge pieces and assemble frame
2. pick out pieces of matching colour and fill in sections
3. repeat step 2 until finished
   

#57 - Police Ride-Along

Just got home from a 12 hour police ride-along (4pm-4am) with the Vancouver Police. We were in district 2, which is roughly Gastown south to
Broadway, east to Boundary, and west to Granville.

I went out with two officers who are about my age, and who are about five times my size. I was very excited and hoping for some serious action. Guns, car chases, sirens, etc. No such luck. However, it was an evening full of a variety of things. Here's the breakdown:

4 pm: Our first call is to a 7-11 on Hastings that has been ripped off by a guy who took $74 worth of beef jerky. I *&#! you not. Beef jerky. The clerks seem pretty casual about it, and the constable just tells them to print off a pic of the perp (or suspect) and put it on the wall. He'll no longer be welcome at that particular store for jerky or slurpees or anything else.

4:30 pm: we pull a u-turn and floor it back up East 1st to pull over a guy in a sports car with tinted front windows. Yawn. Whatever. He was totally compliant and we just got back into the cruiser to spend ten minutes filling out paper work.

4:50 pm: Another traffic infraction about five minutes later - this time a woman who knew not the rules of the road. Driving erratically earned her a verbal warning.

5:10 pm: call comes in about a dude in Oppenheimer Park who is drunk and being disruptive. 10-4. ("Roger that") When we get there and see about twenty-odd drunk people I'm wondering which particular individual they want us to interrogate. We find a man best fitting the description lying on the ground and talk to him for a bit. He's very sweet actually, and tells all of us (three cops and me) that we are all cute. One of the officers thanks him for his compliment and asks him how he cut his arm, which is bleeding, and whether he would like to go to jail or detox. He wisely chooses detox and is helped into the detox van when it arrives. Very easy case, although very sad to see.

5:45 pm: while standing around chatting about hockey, the weather, policing, and other such mundane stereotypical "cop talk" we are asked for directions to Nanaimo (lost much?) and then later for transit directions. I guess to some people 911 and 411 are pretty much the same thing.

5:55 - 7:30 pm: various other calls taken while driving around. The two officers run checks on several suspicious license plates as we go. A couple of drivers are pulled over and questioned. Many, many j-walkers get away scott-free.

7:30 - 8:30 pm: lunch break. We drive back to the station and I hang out in the lounge doing Sodoku and reading the paper while the guys go to the gym to pump iron.

8:30 pm: lunch break #2 - we drive to a Subway in East Burnaby for some subs before heading off to another call.

9:00 pm - 9:50 pm: domestic dispute. (which was a "priority 1" so we got to speed there, with lights flashing!) We go into an apartment building where a man and a woman are totally drunk and the man has become disruptive. He has drunk three bottles of rubbing alcohol. I can't believe people drink rubbing alcohol to get drunk, but it's true, they do. I see the bottle on the table. He had been throwing furniture around and supposedly made threats, so he gets cuffed and is taken downstairs to be questioned and assessed by the paramedics when they arrive. He has crapped his pants somewhere between the time we arrived and the medics got there and he stinks. We wait by the ambulance while he is treated for low blood sugar and whatever else. And we wait and wait. It is finally determined that he needs to go to hospital so we leave.

9:50 - 11:45 pm: lots of paper work and writing on the computer while we drive around. Another call about a rifle observed under a bush outside an apartment complex in East Vancouver. We're closest, so we take the call. One officer has to hop the fence to get into the garden area to retrieve the gun. Turns out to be a an old wooden toy gun that's half rotten. There is also a fake pirate knife and a bottle of unmarked pills. We take these items in to be tagged. Yay, more paper work.

11:45 - 12:20: We drive through the downtown east side and Gastown and meet a man known to the cops as "Chains". He says his back hurts, so he carries about 100 lbs. of chains around his shoulders everywhere he goes. I would guess he's about 50 years old. He wears a beat up baseball cap and dangles an unlit cigarette from his mouth when he talks. He is clearly mentally unwell but is very respectful and friendly. Noticing me in the back of the cab, he says, "oh, a queen... good evening to you goddess." Wow. Wasn't expecting to be charmed tonight by a guy I would, under any other circumstances, avoid like the plague. But there we go. People will surprise you.

12:20 pm: a good looking couple is arguing in Gastown. We notice them. They notice us noticing them. They ignore us and keep up their heated argument. We pull over and get out of the car. I try to look as assertive as the other two but to no avail. Both drunk and sober clubbers and other fashionables give me the evil eye. I hear someone call out, "I smelly piggy!" and wonder whether or not to get back into the car. But then I realize it's locked, and that I'm obviously not a "piggy" in my jeans and sweater. Also, these two guys here are the only ones clearly on my side - and they have guns. So I stand as close as possible to the couple without being too conspicuous and watch as they are told to calm down and move along. Issue solved. Turns out the girl was with the guy but she was flirting with another guy in a club and now this guy is upset with her about that guy and she's upset that this guy is not the other guy because now she maybe likes the other guy better but now the other guy's gone and why can't this guy just be fine about the other guy? This guy doesn't like the idea of another guy at all though. Hence, the argument. They'll be ok. We move on.

12:20: a call comes in about a house party. A noise complaint. Yippy. We arrive to find five pacifists sitting on their porch with their adorable and yet simultaneously ugly dog doing a whole heck of a lot of nothing. They're talking and are completely sober. They suggest that their neighbours are insane (and I for one believe these nice hippies) and we suggest that they are likely right and so simply request that they please just make sure they continue to do their best to be neighbourly. Next!

12:40 - ?: in the back seat I try to stay awake but fail and wake up about twenty minutes later (I think) to hear the guys still talking about their pet peeves regarding this or that policy or this or that sergeant. I am distinctly disappointed that we have not turned on the siren or arrested anyone yet. Everyone has been so damn polite and compliant. It's Saturday night people! Do something bad! I want some action! Even the drunkards have been relatively angelic. It's ridiculous. I'm running out of time here.

2:00 am: Tim Hortons. We meet the rest of the team (about four other officers) and have hot choc and coffee. We chat about this and that and have a few good laughs. They are a great bunch of guys and girls and I am refreshingly surprised by their lack of arrogance, sexism, or elitism. These folks are clearly professionals with a good sense of humour and respect for each other.

2:30 am: we are making our way back towards the station but are told to cruise through Gastown. I am silently praying for a call to a shooting or a B&E, hoping for a big ending to the shift. I am fully awake again. In Gastown my prayers are answered.

There is a call put out about a (what else?) drunk guy who won't leave a club. When we get there about a thousand people are hanging out in their super-hoochy best. I get out of the car with my two best friends and go up to this guy outside the club to talk to him. He's already got a cut eye, a big goose egg, and a bloody nose. The bouncers have had a word. Clearly he doesn't speak their language, and still refuses to leave and wants back in to see his friend. The constables talk to him, then he gets aggressive and they cuff him. Then he kicks one of them and the other takes him down. HARD. He's now on the sidewalk French kissing the cobblestones of Gastown and still yelling about wanting to get back into the club. What an idiot. A few other cops show up along with the paddy wagon. He has refused detox and welcomes prison. Again, what an idiot. Eventually he is picked up and carted off, the rain starts, and the milling crowd gives me the evil eye, which I offer right back at them. I am staring hard and trying to look like I'm a cop. Ha! No badge, no uniform, I am unsuccessful. This time...

Well. I got some action at last, but it was intense. The blood on the sidewalk was perhaps a bit too real. However, it did cap off the end of the shift for me. A bit of an adrenaline rush. I was RIGHT THERE beside this drunken monkey who was swiftly captured and sent off to the zoo. The cops did not yell at me to "back off!" or "get out of the way!" I was there with them and even encouraged to get up close and personal.

3:45 am: finally back to the station after the last of the reports are written. I am so frakin tired. I need a coffee and a doughnut.

First steps

Been a few months since my initial post... but I haven't been slacking off! Some of the items are going to take a lot of time and energy. Some are going to take years. 

Who was it who said "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"? Anyway, along that line, I have made some progress. A few weeks ago I went out and bought a jigsaw puzzle. Been working on it sporadically, and am about halfway through. Also, I did a Citizens' Police Academy course with the Vancouver Police Department in April, and am going to be going on a ride-along soon. Can't wait. 

So that'll be two items done! What else can I start working on now? 

Our Deepest Fear

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light , not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make and manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

- Marianne Williamson

The Idea

In the spirit of John Goddard's "Life List", I have decided to establish a list of 100 things to do in my lifetime. While he climbed Everest, ran a five-minute mile, and traveled through over 120 countries, my list will include some less extreme goals. Such as milking a cow.

But I do have some lofty pursuits too. Like writing a novel and running a marathon.

So far, I have managed to cross the following off my list:

- earn a degree
- donate blood (x3)
- go hang gliding
- work on a sheep farm (New Zealand)
- hold a koala bear (Australia)
- keep a daily diary for a year starting on my birthday
- teach ESL overseas (South Korea)
- get my nose pierced
- get my hair dreadlocked
- ride a horse at a full gallop on a beach
- fire a shotgun and a pistol at a shooting range
- get a Swedish and a Shiatsu massage

My list will be comprised of 100 things to learn, see, do, and attempt, and will likely be updated and appended as time goes by. At twenty-six I can foresee many possibilities for the future, but as more of a thinker than a doer I am hoping that this public posting of my goals will drive me into action.

Carpe Diem!