Purl and Plain

So my mom showed me how to do the two basic knitting stitches, plain and purl, the other day, and how to cast on, to start a knitting project. I think it's pretty straightforward, and I now have a scarf about a foot wide and an inch long. It's my third attempt, after messing up and having to pull it all apart and start over again. This time, though, I think it's working. So if I knit about an inch a day, I should have it done in a couple of weeks. Whether it will be wearable remains to be seen, but it will be a scarf and I will have knitted it. And that will be something else off my list.

Wool

I've decided to learn to knit before the new year arrives. Last month I met a woman who is completely deaf and going blind, who knits for a living, and I was inspired. This woman lives on a small farm about 20 km south-east of Merritt, where she and her husband have about 20 sheep. For each of them, she can get enough wool to knit three sweaters. She also knits toques, scarves, gloves, socks, and a bunch of other things. They have a shearer come in every spring to take the wool off the sheep, and then she takes care of the rest -- carding, spinning and dying the wool herself. Along with her beautiful finished products, she sells batting and spun wool. I bought about three spools of a great melon yellow coloured wool to try my hand at making a scarf. My mom has promised to teach me over the holidays, so here goes!

A long walk

Whenever I start something new, whatever it is, I get antsy after a while and start thinking about how great it would be to go somewhere else and do something different.

My thoughts, as I sit at my desk at work, often drift to the depths of a lush rain forest where I can be alone with just a big backpack and a rolled up mat to sleep on and a journal to write in.

Mostly, I just want to be moving and away from real life for a while.

The reality of this, I suppose, is a very long hike, like the Pacific Crest Trail, or the Apalachian Trail. Obviously this would not be a good time of year to drop everything and run off to find myself in the woods, but if I can get time off next summer I think I'd really like to pursue this fantasy.

I can imagine how difficult and even lonely it might be at times, especially if I were to attempt a few weeks worth of the trail, but I think it would be worth it. I've heard from people who have done it that it is worth it, for sure.

Big trees, fresh air, a long path that doesn't end and a chance to think and walk all day. Sounds good to me.

BCHL

Last night I saw my first live hockey game, right here in Merritt. The Centennials were playing the Quesnel Millionaires and beat them 6-5 in overtime. It was pretty exciting, considering the Cents haven't won an away game this season, and I was fully expecting them to lose at home, too. Seeing hockey live rather than on TV is pretty cool. You don't get all the close-ups, but it is great to be right near the action. It's cold and you can hear the scritch of skates on the ice, and the whack of the puck against sticks and sideboards. Also, any aggression is a lot more in your face. There were no fights, but definitely a lot of pushing into the boards and falling. Good thing they wear pads and helmets. Standing up, cheering and clapping and getting right into the spirit of the game was the best. You can't really do that in your living room, so I can see the appeal of going to watch a game. I'm no hard-core hockey fan, but seeing the Canucks play at GM Place would rock.

Big M

I would love to have a cool nickname, but the latest one has been given to me only because this woman at work in the sales department, let's call her 'Susan' (actually her real name), still cannot remember how to pronounce my name even though I've been at this job for a month now. A nickname given only as a substitute for a brain fart is not a good reason for having a nickname. She knows my name starts with an M, so she started calling me M, and then it became Big M. I don't feel big, but then maybe there are some tiny people out there with my name who she knows and I don't. It's really not difficult, but I've had people call me Marcel, Mariel, Muriel, Morrel (which I believe is a type of mushroom), Meryl, May-relle, and the list goes on. Perhaps one day I'll be known as the Scarlet Sniper or something, but for now, I'll just be Marelle, thanks.
Actually, I was called Hopscotch for a while by a German friend I met long ago and far away, but she was the only one who took to calling me by that particular moniker, and that was only because she couldn't say my name (and I'll forgive her because we all know Germans trying to speak English should be given a break), and she thought it was hilarious that the literal translation of my name is "hopscotch" in French. But I seem to have lost touch with her, and therefore with that nickname.
Other than that, however, there isn't really anything else you can do with my name except shorten it to Melle, and then people just think it's Mel and assume I'm a Melanie, or a Melissa. Not that there's anything wrong with those names, but that's just not original enough a nickname to really constitute a check mark on my list of having earned a "cool" nickname.
I think Melle might be "honey" in Portuguese, but that's not a nickname, that's a term of endearment, which only very special people and annoying trailer park cashiers at the grocery store use on me.
No, a nickname has got to be for doing something outrageous like scaling a building in NYC without ropes or something. I'll work on it.

Home Alone

It's been almost six months that I've been TV-free and four days that I've been living on my own. So I'm halfway to my goal of being without a TV set for a year, and just starting my goal of living on my own and being completely self-sufficient for a year.

The TV thing is easy because life is so busy and I have a reading list a mile long for when I have free time. Most TV shows don't seem to be worth watching and ads are like nails on a chalk board. Every ten minutes a booming voice and flashing lights urging me to buy carpets at half price is not the kind of thing I want to make part of my evening recreation. A stereo for CDs is nice, though. And living on my own, I think it will help prevent me from talking to my plants.

Blurry Photos

Well, I am no Annie Leibovitz.

Supposed to take pictures for my job, and most of the ones I've been taking recently have been in darkly lit clubs and halls and I've no idea what the heck I'm doing wrong. You can't print blurry pictures in the paper.

There's ISO, shutter speed, aperture, etc. to worry about, and I can't use flash because that looks like someone's great aunt took the shot while drunk, but why the hell do they have to make D-SLR cameras so damn complicated? I need a little happy snap. Or some tutoring. Or lots of time and patience to spend playing around with the work camera on my time off (what time off?) to figure it out. If only I could just take pictures of old people sitting on park benches in the sun. Anyone can make those shots look good.

Merritt, B.C.

The City of Merritt, B.C. has a website with a list of Things To Do. The page includes five photos with no captions, one of which is a Canadian flag on a barren hillside. Within the first hour of my arrival in this town I found myself standing under that flag at the viewpoint, which means I've got to pace myself. There's only four more things left to do. I think windsurfing is one of them, and that will have to wait till next summer!

But I'm going to break some massive story here that will be posted to all the national news sites, I can just feel it...

On Hope

We rejoice in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering
produces perseverance;
perseverance, character,
character, hope.
And hope does not disappoint us.
-Romans, 5:3-5

The Burden of Cooking

Cooking is stressful and more trouble than it's worth. This morning I made scrambled eggs with toast, juice, sliced apple and coffee. Healthy and enjoyable, but would have been so much better if someone else had made it for me. By the time I spilled raw egg on my slippers, burnt the toast, and overcooked the eggs, I'd almost lost my appetite. Either I need to find a job that pays enough that I can afford to employ a personal chef, or I need to take cooking classes. You know you're not good with food when making a simple breakfast is a total headache.

I've heard The Joy of Cooking is a good place to start for the novice in the kitchen. Maybe I should invest in this and a few other cookbooks.

I'm also wondering about the whole vegetarian diet. I'm less likely to give myself food poisoning if I screw up and under-cook a mushroom burger or forget to store leftover chicken casserole properly. And no one likes salmonella first thing in the morning. Maybe that's the way to go. Kill to two stones with one bird: learn to cook and become a semi-vegan at the same time.

Living off hot dogs and Five Alive is so 2004. I need to learn to be a grown-up and make meals that consist of more than just one type of pasta or tepid soup from a can. The one benefit to not being a food snob is that avocado on toast and a glass of milk can make me very happy, but it's going to become a problem when I do decide to throw a dinner party for friends who will no longer be impressed by beer and pizza.

5 Speed

On Labour Day I bought a car and have been re-learning how to drive. It's a standard, which means although I've been driving with ease for the past 11 years, I feel like I should stick a red N on the back. So far I've managed to only stall it about once on any given trip, but hills have left me stunned. Where is that magic window between letting the clutch out and giving it gas? It's like a secret I have yet to be let in on.

The thing is, if I'm going to be a reporter I do need a car. And, more importantly, if I'm going to one day drive a sports car on the Autobahn,I must be an expert at shifting gears. So this is step one. I guess step two is save enough for a ticket to Germany. Das est good, ya!

Second Amendment

I've changed my goal of getting a pilot's license to simply "fly in a fighter jet."

Two reasons: first, although I got my "co-pilot's" license when I was 17 and enjoyed the course, I'm not such a fan of aircraft that I feel a deep enough desire to commit the time and money it would take to become qualified to fly myself.

Second, the Abbotsford Airshow is on today, and I've been watching the fighter jets zooming around the sky outside my place and have realized it would be a major thrill to be in one of those things going that fast, doing those crazy turns. Serious fun.

So, I think I will make that my goal. I want to ride in one of those one day. I've been in countless jets, and a couple of times I got to ride in small four and six-seaters. A good time, but not the sort of thing I think I really need to make a life goal.

The next time I get in a plane I hope it's with the intention of jumping out of it with a parachute.

A month of Shakespeare

How many plays did Shakespeare write? I've read Romeo & Juliet, Measure for Measure,and A Midsummer Night's Dream in high school, and Coriolanus, Anthony & Cleopatra and MacBeth when I was at university, but that's about it. I know there are many more.

This weekend I saw Othello at Bard on the Beach, and it was great. I wish I could see all the plays there every summer. While the story wasn't all that exciting (the whole plot centres on Iago's revenge, which seems to have no motive), the acting was great.

Now that I've got an idea of what the play is about I'm going to go back and read it.

I think a nice subtitle for Othello, if they would have had subtitles in Shakespeare's day, would be The Whore and the Hankerchief.

After I read Othello, I'm going to see how many plays I can read this month. And hopefully see another play at Bard before the season is over.

Martial Arts

When I was living in Korea I studied Hapkido, which is like Karate 2.0, and I earned my yellow belt, which means I know how to count to 10 in Korean and take someone down if they're attacking me by shaking my right hand.

One day I would like to become a martial arts master and get a black belt. I realize this is going to take ages to achieve, and will involve a huge investment of time, but I think it would be beneficial in terms of both health and confidence.

But how does one go about picking a martial art? From an initial glance at Wikipedia, there are many different styles to choose from and there’s not just Asian, but also African, South American, and historical European styles that offer something for everyone. If I list the goals or preferred elements of my ideal, they would be:

1. Strength and flexibility
2. Self-defense
3. Standard tests and clear goals to work towards
4. Easy on the hands (not too much grabbing or grappling)
5. Something a 115 lb. woman could realistically hope to master

Rant

Being self-employed is infinitely more fulfilling than working full-time at a well-paid office in an industrial park, sitting in a dusty cubicle, silently wasting the precious moments of what should be my life, as I was doing just over a year ago.



It was just before I quit that job that I wrote this:

I am so bored. There is nothing on TV. Violence is not the answer but it is definitely part of the equation. Sometimes having nothing to be legitimately angry about is itself enough to incite anger in an entire generation of restless youth. The kids today have no Great War, no oppression in this country. We want for nothing, and our only desire is for desire itself. We are numbed by over-stimulation and unforgiving of our undeserved good fortune. So we lash out. We are often aimless, irritable, self-righteous. We are desperate for a reason to paint ugly words on signs to be broadcast on the evening news, to stand up for something we believe in. But we believe in nothing. We are beyond Atheism. It’s not that God is dead, it’s just that we believe that WE no longer mean anything. Perhaps the human race is an abandoned experiment. We want to stand out but we are beige people living in a gray world. There is nothing to clash with. The Establishment no longer pushes back. The Man is no longer a separate entity. It’s way past 1984. We are walking on clouds. We are free. Yet we still long to rage and break away and be the New and Improved generation. To know more, see more, be more. So it infuriates us to realize that posterity will not remember this, our time, as a time of change to greatness. We have no heroes because heroism is irrelevant. Expectations have been lowered. The lights have been dimmed to save energy. Blending in, keeping quiet, working hard – this does not mean conforming, which is no longer even an option. It just is. We want so badly to have our fifteen minutes, to prove ourselves worthy. We whine about self esteem. We are a youth who have still to grow up, but we refuse to until we have experienced our deserved cathartic tantrums, our rebellions, until we can light a fire that will keep us warm well into old age. If we are not given the opportunity, we will start a war to get it. I wish I had been born a hundred years ago. Give me darkness, give me hunger, give me fear and uncertainty. I need something to hold onto. Something real.

I am so glad to be free of the treadmill of corporate nothingness that depressed the hell out of me. I may not be rolling in the dip, but I now have purposeful work to do that motivates me to strive for what seem to be endless possibilities in my career. Without being stuck in a dead-end job, and being independent, and free of the daily bombardment of advertisements, I feel optimistic about the chance to pursue things I wouldn't have even considered last year. Plus I get the benefit of tax write-offs.

A Flood of Felines

I wish I were in need of a cat.

With Petcetera going bankrupt there are more than enough to go around, and it seems that the SPCA can't handle the onslaught of homeless cats in the Lower Mainland. Unfortunately my landlord doesn't allow pets, and to be honest, I don't really want another cat in my life at this point. They can live for two decades and don't like to travel.

Adopting a pet from a shelter is a goal I have because I miss my animals and think that my next one should be in need of a home and not just be a commodity bred for the sole purpose of making some overweight, dirty-fingernailed guy named Angus enough to take an extended vacation this year. The thing is, I'm thinking it'll be a small animal, like a rodent or maybe a gecko if I happen to be living in sub-Saharan Africa and they have a more exotic selection at the SPCA.

No, but seriously, why do people not get their pets spayed or neutered? It is a fairly simple solution to a fairly serious problem. With so many unwanted animals (especially cats) it just doesn't make sense to let your cat or dog procreate, now matter how lovely it is to witness the miracle of birth and enjoy eight weeks of awesome cuteness. And we don't even need to talk about rabbits. If you can't afford to have your kitten or puppy fixed, then you shouldn't get one in the first place. Resist the temptation! Don't look in the sad little eyes! Stop petting the soft wrinkly belly! Walk away! It's not cheap to feed and take care of, and you can't just put it on a shelf when it gets big and you get tired of it.

Anyway, stepping down from my soapbox and getting back to the main point, I realize this would be an ideal time to cross an item off my list if it were a cat I was looking for. If the SPCA had a new shipment of rats I would get one yesterday, but I think I'll keep holding out for a two-month old female Border Terrier, Flat-Coated Retriever mix.

TV-Free

Since June 1 I've been living without a TV set, and I've discovered I am perfectly happy without it. Maybe it's the lack of quality shows, or the annoying noise of commercials that has turned me off cable. Granted, I have been watching the fourth season of The Office on my computer, but without the distraction of a TV I've been doing a lot of other things with my time that I probably wouldn't get to otherwise. Just 11 months to go to fulfill my goal of a year without a TV and it's going to be easier than I thought.

5 km PR - 28:30

Yesterday I ran the Scotiabank 5 km in Stanley Park, and finished with a time of 28:30. My previous 5 km, which was a couple of years ago, was 28:48, so this is a personal best. The route was great - only a couple of very small hills, and it was a combination of gravel and pavement around Lost Lagoon and the sea wall. Lots of people, good weather, and an abundance of Gatorade. Except for a brief period at the end when I was sure I was going to lose my breakfast, the run was pretty easy and I had enough to sprint at the finish. Now I've got to decide whether to sign up for another 5 km and beat my time or move onto an 8 km.

Bull

If you go for a run somewhere new, where you've never been before, say, on a mountain, where there's a big iron gate with a sign on it that says 'NO TRESPASSING' (and some other information about not being welcome), it's just probably a good idea to turn around, as I have recently discovered.

Today I went running in such a place and decided to ignore the sign, duck under the gate, and carry on up the dirt path, the wind blowing my hair, the pale sun shining on the flowers growing willy-nilly in the tall grass. I figured the undulating hills made for great training, and I was enjoying the view of the valley below until I noticed a big ugly brown cow just ahead, chewing its cud. And then another one on the path, and a few others farther ahead beside a clump of trees.

And then I noticed that one of the cows had long frickin' horns! and I freaked out because I know that bulls are not friendly and don't like people showing up all sweaty and panting, wearing shorts, running right through their herd, even if it is a Sunday afternoon. And so, with my heart in my throat, beating like a caged hummingbird, I avoided eye contact with the big horned beast and turned down a more narrow path into the woods, where I hoped I would be able to climb a small-limbed tree should the bull actually decide to charge me.

Without looking back, lest I trip and see my life flash before my eyes just before a horn pierced my back, I bolted over a little foot bridge across a creek and down the side of the hill until I came to a clearing and then a side street where I stopped to lean on the hood of a white Toyota Prius and almost lost my lunch.

There was no choice but to return the way I'd come. I had to idea where New Terrace Way was in relation to the street where I'm house-sitting this week. Realising how precious my life is to me, I vowed to start eating more leafy greens and never watch television again if only I could make it home alive. I ran on, this time more slowly, quietly, and with foreboding.

Creeping around the side of an elm, I saw the cows were in the same formation they'd been in when I passed by the first time. The bull was still there, looking around as if on guard for trespassers like me.

Bloody hell, he was massive. With a gleaming black coat, long thin horns, steely eyes, and a massive chest, his tail flicked in irritation at the flies and his udder swayed... whoa, nelly. His udder? WTF? Uh...

Was this perhaps one of those that have horns whether they be cow, steer, or bull? I guessed so. That, or some other breed of cattle I had been, until that moment, completely ignorant of. Or perhaps, like Chaz Bono, this particular bovine was in the middle of gender reassignment surgery and would still be angry because the hormonal fluctuations were still driving her/him to have massive mood swings (which would explain why he/she was standing alone, off to the side).
Either way, I was cautious as I went back again along the path, trying to look inconspicuous, and wondering whether or not to make soft lowing sounds as I ran.

Well, that was one of the more adventurous runs I've ever had. With exactly one week to go till race day I'm feeling like I just might break my record of 28:48 for a 5km, especially if I picture an angry cow with horns coming after me. Or Chaz Bono.

10,000 Hours

If you want to be proficient, perhaps the best, at anything, the only thing you need is time. A lot of it - 10,000 hours, to be precise. This is the latest from Malcolm Gladwell (The Tipping Point, Blink) who asserts in his book Outliers (Little, Brown & Co. 2008) that the magic formula for mastering a skill like playing the violin or shooting hoops or designing computer software is simply to put in the time to practice, practice, practice.

(Um, no kidding. I think my mom told me the "practice makes perfect" mantra when I was about five, but anyway... I guess experts have now made the practice notion quantifiable and therefore either more practical or completely daunting, depending on who you talk to.)

So it seems you can be the most average chess player and become a grandmaster if you've got about 10 years to work diligently on improving your skills. Gladwell quotes Daniel Levintin, author of This is Your Brain on Music (Penguin, 2006), who said,

"ten thousand hours of practice is required to achieve the level of mastery
associated with being a world-class expert - in anything... it seems that it
takes the brain this long to assimilate all that it needs to know to achieve
true mastery."

If this holds true, then I guess I've been taking the wrong tactic all along with my list of goals. Perhaps I should pick just one and dedicate the rest of my life to perfecting it. Hmn, floristry? Studies clearly demonstrate I could be the best florist on the planet if I put my mind to it... despite the fact that at present I can't even tell a chrysanthemum from a carnation.

Olympic Letdown

So close to getting tickets to the Olympics but we lost them at the last second. Looks like I'm not going to be getting up close and personal with any short track speed skaters in 2010.

My mom was able to log in to the official website for 2010 on Saturday and scored two tickets to the opening ceremonies but was unable to make the purchase before the website logged her out. Major dissapointment on her part, and a snag in my plan to attend at least one event or ceremony in Vancouver next year.

If anyone happens to know of another way of acquiring tickets, particularly to the opening ceremony or the men's or women's gold medal hockey games I would be delighted to know how to make it happen!

Intro to Climbing

Last night I took a course at a climbing gym to learn how to tie ropes, put on a harness, and belay. So now I can not only go to the gym to risk my own neck, but the necks of countless others as well... Actually, according to Dave, the owner of the gym and my instructor, it's us new climbers who are safest because we triple check everything. It's still going to be a while before I climb outside, and before I'm entirely over my fear of heights, but I'm thinking it should get easier now that I know what I'm doing and don't have to rely on anyone else to help me with my gear. Guessing it's also going to be a while before I no longer feel like I have four feet while I'm trying to get up a 5.9 route.

One month, 5 km

As of today I have two more reasons to keep running - I bought new shoes on Friday, and registered this morning for the Scotiabank 5 km race on June 28. This gives me 33 days to break in the shoes and train to beat my PB of just under 30 minutes.

Reality TV inspires the runner in me

"You want to know how you train for a marathon? You run." - personal trainer to a weight-loss contestant on an American reality TV show. 

Keeping it simple. I love it. 

Hiking

The Grouse Grind is still officially closed for the season, and for good reason. You'd think, with this beautiful spring weather that it's just an extra precaution, but they weren't kidding - there is a lot of snow pack three-quarters of the way up the trail. All cold and in the way. Very hostile. Being in running shoes and a tank top doesn't make things easier when you're scrambling up what you think must be the trail while trying to dodge flying snowballs the size of watermelons hurtling their way past you to splatter on tree trunks in a way that is eerily suggestive of what would happen to your head if you were to slip and go hurtling down the hill yourself.

But we made it to the top eventually, and were oggled by tourists in parkas at the lodge who took our picture, standing sweaty and barely clothed against the backdrop of the afternoon sky over "the peak of Vancouver." I'm not even sore today. I think this bodes well for a multi-day trek this summer on the West Coast Trail.

Death-defying postponed

Sky-diving put off till August, when (ideally) I'll have had a few months of work and therefore won't have to decide between eating and jumping out of a plane. Also, planning to do the West Coast Trail this summer. Another two steps towards completing my long list...

Down to Earth

With my up-coming graduation from J-school I think it will be appropriate to go skydiving next month. When I got my degree three years ago I had set a date to go with my roommate, but had to cancel due to inclement weather. So, in the spirit of graduation, I am going to make it my goal, once more, to celebrate by hurling myself out of a small airplane many thousands of feet above the ground and let fate and chance and gravity take over. Anyone want to join me?

The Key to Life

Will Smith on how to succeed:

Fitness Update

It's going to be a while before I cross of numbers 2 and 44...

As of this weekend, I can run for just over half an hour, do 11 push-ups (real ones), and about 2.3 sit-ups. Uh-huh.

New Shoes!

For my birthday I got a sweet pair of rock climbing shoes. (Thanks, Cornelia!) Can't wait to try them out. They're crazy tight and make my toes cry a little bit when I put them on, but this is supposedly how they should fit. So now I have no excuse for fumbling around trying to boulder on the more difficult routes.

Last time I went to the gym I made a point of hanging out near the ceiling to check out the view. I think I can officially say that I no longer fear heights as I once did. (Just the regular sort of human reaction to not wanting to fall and die, which I'm guessing will never go away entirely unless I fall on my head and, in a twist of irony, lose the brain cells needed for self-preservation, causing me to no longer fear falling under any circumstances at all.)

Running Inspiration

My mom is training for her second half-marathon. She is 65. If she can do it, I can surely do it too.

At Chapters today I was looking for a magazine article to discuss in my feature writing class. I was immediately drawn to Runner's World and Canadian Running magazines, both of which I ended up buying.

Despite the stale headlines ("Great abs in 15 minutes!" or "10 tips to run your best, EVER!") I am still inspired every time I flip through any of these magazines. Just looking at the glossy cover pictures of the uber fit models looking serious and disdainful in their skin-tight shorts and sports bras makes me want to get back into the running business.

Snowboarding

Nice powder on Hemlock mountain on Saturday. Hadn't been boarding in ages and, although I think it's like riding a bicycle, I'm pretty rusty. Barely able to do a 180 turn, so it's going to take a few more tries before I can do a 360. I think I'm going to have to learn to do jumps to do that, actually. Still a long way off. But holy Christmas, is it fun! I can't decide if it's rock climbing or snowboarding I like best now.

Climbing

Went to the climbing gym again today for the first time in months. Felt awesome to get back into it. I have my own chalk bag now, and a pass card, so now I just need a harness and shoes of my own. I didn't do any bouldering, just climbing, and managed a 5.8 no problem, but couldn't do the 5.10 route. I'm still shaky when I get to the top, but my fear of heights seems to be keeping me back less each time I go to the gym.