Wrapped in Fleece

I'm lying on the floor. On the edge of the carpet. Wrapped in fleece. Trying to sleep. Except that I'm really actually looking at the footprints in the dust on the hardwood that blew through the open window. That I'm really listening to "Bookends" without really listening at all. Because acoustic guitar is just part of the background. Because that's just where I'm from.

And I'm writing this down on the space that's my mind. And aware of my breath and the things that unwind. Listening to "Blue Jean Blues" without really listening. Because that's just the way I am.

Needing this place. Some time just to breathe. A break from the best and a place for my dreams. Listening to "Old Love" without really listening. Because that's just where I'm at. Needing to be alone, wrapped in fleece and trying to sleep.

Wishing you were here.

In My Blood

I'd like to start by saying that I grew up on motorbikes.  I'd like to, but I can't.  Still, I think it's somehow in my genes.  My parents fell in love on a motorcycle.  Riding out to band practice.  Taking of their helmets to kiss on that first date when they were younger than my now-youngest sibling.

By time I came along motorcycles were traded for a brown Toyota with car seats in the back and an ancient pick-up to go with a budding construction business.  Five kids later these eventually turned into a stubborn minivan and "Big Red," (hint: not a bike.)

I always knew, regardless, that my parents both held class 6 driver's licenses.  At ten I had my first ride when my Dad's oldest friend brought around his cruiser.  I don't remember what it was but I remember the thrill and the wind on my arms.  I clung tight as we accelerated.  I didn't know about counter-steering and had it explained to me after trying consistently to upright on corners.

Once a biker always in your blood, so I've been told.  Once you start you'll never really stop.  When I was fourteen my parents bought a little orange Yamaha Enduro 100 from roughly the stone-age, aka the 1970s.  That's what I learned to drive up and down our lane.  With a throttle in your fist and no license in your pocket 100ccs feels like a lot of power.  20MPH feels like a lot of speed.  An old gold helmet from your parent's dating days feels pretty cool.  And it starts to get in your blood.

At sixteen I drove it on Mexican highways to neighboring villages for an internet fix.  The smell of tortillas and the muggy wind on my face was nothing but pure independence.  I wanted more.  My little brother drives it around mountain roads with his friends now.

I moved out and my parent's young family grew up enough to justify getting rid of the minivan.  They bought a Honda 400.  This time only from the Dark Ages.  AKA, the early 1980s.  It looked like this only until my oldest brother turned his mad airbrushing skills its way.  I made it past the first two steps of licensing and then life got in the way.  I still hoped for the wind on my face and a ride down the lake but my lifetime commitment of achieving my own class 6 was still out of reach.

My middle brother fixed up a Honda 400 dual sport from the same era and would take me burning around mountain trails and rock outcroppings.  I learned to manage the kick start and I'd take it out on my own.  My cousin let me take a   less-than-legal spin on his 600 crotch rocket.  It was only a matter of time.  My license requirements finally fit themselves in last year.

Here's what I'm driving these days.  Yamaha Seca 550.  Check off item 24.  Apparently we have a thing for old-school bikes.  Yes, it's also from the dark ages.  But it's still a whole lotta fun.

I Try

She was from Stats Canada ("Or elections B.C.   Or something like that...").  My sister was pretty much her choice demographic.

"Did you vote in the last election?"
"Errr.  I was out of the country."
"So you didn't vote?"
"Uh...  No."
"You weren't aware of alternative voting options?
"There are alternative voting options?"
"Alright, thank-you.  How did you hear about last election?"
"Facebook."
"And your primary source of information?"
"Ummm, Facebook."
"Did you receive your Elections Canada voter's card?"
"...My parents might have..."
"How did you know you're registered to vote?"
"I'm registered to vote?"
"So, have you ever voted in a national or regional election?"
"Umm...  I don't know.  I don't remember.  I don't think so?"

They say change should start at home.  I try.  Really, I do.

I am Canadian. I am Embarrassed.

Alright, so we lost.

That doesn't even really matter right now. I admit that I never invested very heavy emotion into this series. Regardless, any disappointment in the loss is severely overshadowed by disgust in what followed in Vancouver last night.

I turned off the t.v. And went for a walk with a friend. I'm glad to say that every fan I know, personally, handled themselves with decorum, even congratulating Boston. Unfortunately, the gathered "fans" in Vancouver's streets had other ideas.

I'm embarrassed for Vancouver. They're going to have reason to wake up hungover and embarrassed for themselves. It's a beautiful city. I know that what I say won't have any neutralizing affect on international headlines but I want to say that the vast majority of us are appalled, anyway.

Maybe Canada needs to learn what it is to have something worth rioting about. Because apparently some of us think our tax dollars and reputation are worth burning away with RCMP cruisers and frustration of a lost hockey game.

Scratch That

I kind of forgot what blogging is about.  Actually, scratch that.  I never really knew what blogging is all about.  Quite honestly, I've always been confused there.  I know I don't blog strictly for myself.  I certainly don't blog for financial gain.  What is it that's so fulfilling about posting my ramblings on the internet?

Regardless, I still managed to somehow forget.  And, I suppose, sometimes a breather is needed.  I have no intention of actually going away.  I've been dreadfully sick with a tonsil infection but it's just now starting to clear up.  I still like mutual-like guy, and it's still mutual.  However, we just recently decided to just be friends for the moment.  Mostly due to my reservations.  It's kind of sad but also remarkably relieving and I'm happy with the decision.  In an ironic twist he gained a lot of additional respect by concluding that I needed to be confident with my decision and either jump in or step back.

Today it's raining and I have on my rainy-day mood.  All of a sudden I refuse to be carefree and I need to question everything.  Here I am.  Maybe that's what my blogging is about.

(Dannyst)

As Open as the Road Can Get

And a good time was had by all.

That's Me, Alright

Shayla: Oh, I love Taylor Swift.
Kris: I like Taylor Swift far to much for a self-respecting twenty-four year old who doesn't like country.
Shayla: I love country music.  You don't like country?
Kris: Nope.
Shayla: What do you like to listen to, then?
Kris:  Ummm, I listen to a lot of different stuff.  Mostly like....
Shayla (interrupting): Hip hop?
Kris: Errr, no, more like....  Wait.  Hip hop?   Do I strike you as someone who listens to hip hop?
Shayla: Yeah.  Or, you know, something you can groove out to.

Apparently I come across as a pretty groovy person.

Here

This post will not be long. It will not have photos, it will not rhyme, and my wording will not be impeccable. I will not be telling you to vote (my ballot was cast advance) or commenting on certain political developments. This is the first full blog post I am composing via iPad, but my reasons are good.

I am in Prince George, en route in a two week back-country hard-camping road trip to the Yukon. Last night we slept under Jasper stars and watched a hint of northern lights streaking the sky.

I recently turned down a job promotion, met a boy I share a lot of mutual like with, found a room mate with a thirst for adventure and a long history of learning to appreciate each other (we're succeeding). Pre-wrote half a month of paid posts and put my car on the road after biking for a month.

It's nice to have an open road, a full tank of gas and two of the coolest brothers you can imagine to share this with. This is here.

Bloggerstock: Photo Inspired

I'm so pleased, this month, to be hosting K. Syrah!  I don't read many social commentary blogs (they're a little too biased for me), but K. has one I've been gladly following for a long time, now.  Be sure to check it out.  I'm certain her bit of writing from our photo inspired topic (how cool is that) will make you want to visit.  Now, on to the post.

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I’m K. Syrah, I blog at Shoes Never Worn, and this is a story about a Dad and his little girl. 

            He watched her grow up, in tiny shoes, and tiny socks, with floral dresses and mismatched little caps on golden curls. He remembered tying her hair up into little pigtails, combing the ringlets and ticking her under her arms until she squealed and giggled with delight.

            He lifted her up, propping her on his shoulders when the Christmas parade came into town, just so she could see over the heads of the on-lookers. Her little gently hands wrapped around his forehead as she laughed she pointed and gawked at the fat man in red, with his wavy white beard.

            Then came the day when she didn’t need him to do her hair, to tie her shoes, or to put a little bow in her sundress.

            She stopped reaching for his hand, and she crossed the road on her own. First looking over her shoulder to see if it was okay, then later, looking straight ahead, because she knew it was okay.

            Her little hands were swinging freely at her side, and he watched her grow up tall until the day came that all fathers dread; the day their little girl thrusts her hip to the side, with a stubborn hand on her belt loop, looks at him with defiant eyes.

            “As long as you live under this roof, young lady, you’ll obey our rules!”

            Then, she wasn’t under his roof anymore and she drifted even further; across the country, to a college dorm room. She’s talking to boys, saying, doing and acting like she can cross the road without him over her shoulder.

            But she’s just a kid, in tiny shoes, and golden curls.

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You can check out my post at co-founder Alex Weisman's blog!  And, of course, you can sign up to participate in the next Bloggerstock through the home site.

If You're Canadian

I was up 'till 2:30 last night watching the National Leaders English Debate (as any of you who follow me on Twitter know full well...).  If you're American you might want to skip this post.  Because, you know, it's international politics so it really doesn't matter.

In case you don't have over two hours to watch the debate's entirety here are the general impressions.  If you're Canadian, though, I do recommend viewing it.  And then voting.  Because you live in a democratic country and you better appreciate that.  Just watch a news clip on Libyan rebels for a little perspective.

The Bloc Quebecois: Duceppe treated this debate exactly as one should expect of a Blog Quebecois leader.  Quite frankly, it got boring.  He referred, at least twice, to Quebec as a nation.  None of the other leaders were stupid enough to point out that he was  sorely mistaken.  The poor guy is a little misinformed.  Not in good taste for a party leader.  I, however, am an unpaid semi-anon blogger with no influence in Quebec so I don't mind saying that, in actuality, provincial referendums have defeated sovereignty  twice.  Grow up, suck it up, and learn to contribute to the actual country you help govern.

I'm not anti-Quebec.  I've lived there and I have struggled to try and form some degree of pride in our dual-heritage.  My redneck friends aren't helping and neither are the separatists.  It's extremists that make me want to swear off French.  A shame and something that's not going to do Canada a bit of good.

Oh, and taking a question about immigration and using it to yell at Layton about bill 101?  Not classy.  In the end I just want to laugh at Duceppe's obvious agitation, singular agenda and pronunciation of "ghetto," (geeto) and "ship."  I'm sure he's owning in today's French language debate.

The New Democratic Party:  Jack Layton was clearly upset at references throughout the debate to the fact that the next government will be either Liberal or Conservative (even if, more then likely, a minority).  I can understand that it gets frustrating being the head of a party that never even gets the title of official opposition.  However, Layton needs to realize his party is unproven.  His flippant idealism has to be accepted because it's never been tried nationally.  Somehow he managed to avoid straight-up saying that the NDP really isn't all that concerned about the deficit or tax cuts.  The NDP wants to promise ready medicare solutions, open immigration policies and an environmental agenda.

Layton also went out of his way to slam the Liberal leader for supporting certain initiatives brought through by the Conservatives.  Look.  Nothing wrong with that.  If it's something they can support then, for crying out loud, support it.

NDP's economics freak me out.  Jack Layton will appeal to the buy-now pay-laters.  People without foresight.  In short, the NDP will win a few seats thanks to socialist votes.  I think high-spending socialism is something Canada has taken to far already.  Layton, however, is also the most engaging of the four leaders.  The one that I can most easily imagine buying his grandkids ice cream.  He was well spoken, at least.

The Liberal Party:  This is where the politics gets serious.  We're down to the two top parties in Canada's history and the Liberals want their lead back.

There is really no argument that the three participating opposition leaders pounded away on Steven Harper throughout.  Ignattief contributed his share in attempting to paint the Conservative party as one full of scandal.  Expected, I suppose, given the historic coalition and the contempt of parliament against the current minority.

The Liberal leader did, however, bring some valid points to the table.  He is fairly adamant that something must be done to remedy Canada's falling reputation on the international stage.  He was the only leader who pointed out that an American justice system doesn't work.  He was also the main voice for initiative in healthcare that begins with education and Canadian effort.

Ignattief readily stated that he's fond of the idea of raising corporate taxes.  He figures this will fund extensive moves in post-secondary education, in child-care, in green initiative and in international policiy...  For a start.  Certainly strong promises.

The Conservative Party:  Harper certainly took attack after attack in this debate.  Not surprising.  He has been governing the country for five years so everything can be blamed on him.  Opposition mostly had to do with a lack of releasing certain financial reports, a plan to buy fighter jets and the traditional conservative tendency to avoid international spending and meeting environmental targets.

Harper was steadfast and brought replies to the table that focussed on his party's commitment to easing the deficit and lowering taxes in a bid to improve the economy.  In my opinion Harper was the only leader who willingly laid out strong economical intent.  He also stated several times that we're in the throes of an election "that Canadians didn't want."  He's actually being ballsy enough to say he wants a majority so he can get things done.

Harper may hurt himself with an endless focus on tax cuts.  What do Canadians really want?  He's refusing to make promises in regards to the international stage and the environment.  Healthcare is a major debate that I did not hear any definite conclusion to from Harper.  Medical coverage is something embraced by all Canadians that is not going anywhere.

Harper doesn't have all the answers.  He certainly doesn't have all the election promises.  But if they country wants a stodgy follow-through on solid economic effort he may be in the right place.

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I don't actually like politics.  They will not be making a regular appearance on my blog.  I will, however, be voting.  If you're Canadian then I expect that you will be too.