half a post

I've been thinking about community this week. On Tuesday one of the guys in my small group said "The only way you can have an influence in someone's life is if you care about them and they know it." It's been rattling around in my head ever since being chased by a line from an Amos Lee song that says:

Sometimes we forget who we've got,
Who they are, and who they are not.

Now here it is almost a week later and I still don't have the rest of this thought. The two quotes are still running around in my head and I still find myself thinking about the roles of the people in my life (and my role in theirs.) I haven't finished thinking about it yet. I don't have the rest of this thought or even the rest of this post. So I'm posting this half a post now as a placeholder for myself. When the thought finishes itself I hope to be able to post the other half.

complimentary code

A funny thing happened at work today. One of our web programmers called me over to his desk claiming he had something I should see. He had written a script that afternoon and after he ran it, it returned an interesting result. I got over to his computer, he ran the script and one line of code resulted:

claireisbeautiful

HAHAHahahahahahaha. If you dig deep enough there is a little logic behind the unusual return.

Several years ago I was asked to write an article about the perception of beauty. "In Search of a Beautiful Woman" was published on one of our sites and later translated into French. The French translator, a friend of mine, renamed the translated version of the file as claireisbeautiful.html as a joke. I had forgotten about that until the filename showed up in the script today.

Who knew that code could be so complimentary?

needful things (how using the internet changes the internet)

On Friday Mandy was showing me the new Magic 8 ball-inspired Google game. Type your name and needs into Google to see what the internet has to say about you. Of course I had to take a shot at it.

According to Google "Claire needs":

Claire Needs a Visit to the Bunny Planet
Claire needs her own forum.
Claire needs to be inspired.
Claire needs a wider circle of friends.
Claire needs some cops on horses.
Claire needs to hire a part time admin worker.
Claire needs a dual personality as the theater's founder and director.
Claire needs to be somewhere else.
Claire needs to shear all her sheep in a matter of days.

What I find intriguing however is how many other people named Claire have already done this search and are thereby totally messing up MY Claire needs results. I had to go several pages into Google to get results that weren't merely lists belonging to other Claires. (I'm sure the other Claires are lovely, I'd just rather make a list of my own.)

Which begs the question though, will there come a time when the game can no longer be played because the lists already made have taken up all the space for the results needed to make lists? We do change the internet every time we use it (every time you view a page you alter the stats for the page, which in turn eventually will alter the search ranking etc etc.) I wonder if we'll ever manage to use up the internet? Will there ever be so many reports of answers that the answers themselves will become totally obscured?

dreaming the dawn

There has been a lot of talk in my world lately about dreams. Several friends are taking steps towards dreams of books and babies from far off places, dreams of a workday that looks completely different. Interesting times. I took a step toward a smaller dream today.

Ever since I moved to White Rock, four years ago now, I have dreamt of going down to watch the dawn come up over the water. I couldn't remember the last dawn that I saw with my own eyes. This morning I finally did it.

It's the perfect time of year to stalk the dawn. Daylight savings time starts next week so this week is the latest you can get up and still see the show. I set my alarm (sacriledge on a Saturday morning, but sacrifices must be made for dreams). I packed a peanut butter sandwich and a travel mug of tea and headed out just as the sky was starting to turn indigo.

I found an east-facing bench out on the pier and just sat and waited. It surprised me to see how many people are actually out at that hour. One man walking down the pier stopped and asked "Just waiting for that sun?" That's exactly what I was doing.

Dawn comes quicker than I remember. The horizon turns red and pink, orange and a yellow that somehow turns blue without turning green. It's light long before the sun is truly up. It was so peaceful out there just waiting. I was so peaceful.

To the west of the dawn the whole world is pink. The sea and the sky, even the trees are edged in it -- a cotton candy dream of the day to come. I sat there until the sun hit the top of Mount Baker and set it glowing. Then the world was fully awake, and then, so was I.

all you know

"light a fire burn up all you know"

The has been a change in the wind the past few weeks, a not unpleasant restlessness. I've been listening to a CD Ceone leant to me and several lines have been running through my head. The line above comes from Peter Mulvey's Shirt. I guess you could say that I've been asking questions.

I'm in the middle of reading Steven Levitt's Freakonomics and I am intrigued. In the intro to the book he says something along the lines of "all you really need to do is ask a good question and then answer it." Indeed. In the book he asks the reader to take a closer look at what we think we know about certain situations -- falling crime rates, the wages of your average crack dealer -- and see if the numbers back up the claim.

He quotes economist John Kenneth Galbraith who, apparently, was the first to coin the term "conventional wisdom". Galbraith defines conventional wisdom as 'that which is most easily understood and contributes to self esteem.' I was thinking about this as I read Gerry McGovern's New Thinking newsletter for this week. Gerry is arguably one of the leading experts in the strategic use of online content. In his newsletter this week he was talking about the problem of too much information. He drew an example of the FUD occurring in the news surrounding hurricane Katrina:

Hurricane Katrina exposed a serious and ongoing problem with misinformation. It was widely reported that more than 10,000 were dead, when the actual figure was a little over 1,000. It was estimated that it would take three months to drain the city. Within six weeks, it was largely dry.

He went on to say that "Human beings are much better at dealing with scarcity than with glut. This is particularly true when it comes to information." In this age of information what you don't say can be every bit as important as what you do say.

My Dad is fond of reminding me not to take information at face value. There's certainly a time and a place for that but I think it's interesting that we are as a group an interesting of cynical true believers. For an independent, free thinking, post modern society we are surprisingly quick to believe without question that which we have not seen with our own eyes, or reasoned through with our own logic.

I don't know that lighting a fire to every I know is the way to go, maybe for now I just need to keep asking questions.

chocolate nirvana

I have a new favourite chocolaterie. Today at the Westcoast Chocolate Festival I had opportunity to sample ChocolaTas. I think I might be ruined for life. Maitre Chocolatier Wim Tas started his business "looking for something that was more than 'good', something excellent". I think it's fair to say that he has succeeded.


The chocolates are infused with everything you can imagine and a few things you might not have thought of yet -- lavender, rooibos tea, pepper. Sampling them was more like a wine tasting than anything else. "Take a small bite" Tim suggested "and then take a moment to smell the chocolate." I did, and the man knows what he's talking about. The chocolates are works of art. When I purchased a box I was asked if I have a wine cellar as it is better suited to proper storage than a fridge (which is apparently too cold.) Somehow I doubt I that storage is going to be a problem :)

These are undoubtedly top drawer confections, but surprisingly they work out to about the same price as Purdy's. Check out the site and treat yourself. Believe me, it's worth it. Chocolate nirvana is just a mouthful away.

thankful

I love Autumn. I love the way it looks, I love the way it smells. I love the colours and the leaves and the fact that I have an excuse to light the fire in the fireplace. There's something about this time of year. It's as if the world takes a deep breathe and settles in. There will be winter to get through, but not quite yet. Now is the time to gather, to get comfortable and settle in. It's time to put the kettle on.
A couple of years ago I started decorating the mantel in the livingroom for Fall. I saw this thing on Martha Stewart once where she strung fall leaves on a string to make a garland and I had to try it. It's the one Martha thing I do. There's something incredible about the colours of those leaves and the way they dry curled as if still in flight. Add a few gourds and some corn and it's all set. All set for Thanksgiving. It's been up for a few weeks already and it's a good reminder. It reminds be of bounty and my life is bountiful.
This week-end there will be a houseful of people eating turkey and pie and I am thankful that there will be more guests than I have chairs. I am thankful that no one minds pinicing on the floor. I am thankful for the laughter and for these people who have chosen to hold me in their hearts. I am thankful that although they are not my blood family, there are still *my* family and that is an incredible gift.

I am thankful for health and I am thankful that God promises hope to those whose health has been taken away. I am thankful for the things I forget to count sometimes -- for food in the cupboards in the kitchen, for a car that starts faithfully, for shoes without holes and a warm coat when I need one. I am thankful that my family is safe, and extra thankful that my family has increased by two this year. I am thankful that the God of the universe who could do whatever He needs to without me chooses to invite me along anyway because He enjoys my company. I am thankful for grace even though I can't fully understand it. I am thankful, consciously, actively, every day.

your tax dollars at work

I read this in Wired News today:

When Dolphins Turn Deadly
Among the innumerable individuals displaced by Hurricane Katrina, military-trained dolphins may also have gotten lost in the shuffle. Trouble is, the U.S. Navy's 36 cetaceans may be armed and dangerous. The Atlantic bottlenose dolphins, which have been taught to use toxic dart guns to shoot terrorists attacking military vessels, may have been swept out to sea when the storm breached their coastal compound.

Is anyone else reminded of a little scene in the first Austin Powers movie. . something about "sharks with frickin'’ lasers strapped to their heads"? Truth really *is* stranger than fiction -- especially when it's your tax dollars at work.

beautiful day

It was Kendra's birthday on Sunday so we decided to head down to Vanier Park for a little Bard on the Beach. It was a perfect Vancouver day, a late September bathed in sunshine, the kind of day we'll all be dreaming about when the rain starts next week. Kendra suggested that we take a little trip on the False Creek ferry and as you can see, we didn't have any fun at all.

I had never been on the ferry before but it's pretty incredible. It's this tiny little boat, looks like a toy tugboat and for about $1.50 you can go straight across or down to Grandville Island, or all the way the Science Center (that trip costs a little more.) It was amazing being out on the water with all the other boats. Granted, we weren't cruising on one of uber-elegant sailboats making their way through the water but felt great all the same and the view, it was pure Vancouver.

We took the ferry across to where it docks just under the Burrard Street bridge. We were right across from Bard village (which I still think looks a bit like the circus.) From there we walked down to English bay past the Inukshuk and I swear half the population of Vancouver who were out walking, biking and rollerblading that day. Ceone commented that the healthiest Canadians live in BC. It certainly looked like it.

We walked up Denman looking for a Starbucks (that didn't take long) and somewhere to grab some dinner. Along the way we found a great little cake store called Cupcake. You can't have a birthday without cake so we got a little something for the birthday girl. And really, it's not healthy to eat cake alone, so we got some for the rest of us as well. Cake and sushi, not a bad birthday feast. Takes the edge off that old 'getting older' thing.

We saw Love's Labours Lost which was good but I have to admit I liked As You Like It even better. Bard on the Beach will take a final bow for the season later on this week. I hope that the players have enjoyed themselves as much as I have.

upon this rock

I came across faith in the most unexpected place today. I was doing research in GQ this morning. No really, I actually was (although it turns out they don't post their editorial calendar so it was a short trip). In the course of my search I came across an article by John Sullivan about a trip he took to Creation -- the Woodstock of Christian rock. I got hooked into the article because the author was so obviously anti-Christian rock, a position I can sympathize with entirely. While it's true I do own a copy of the first Jars of Clay album, in general [Jars excepted] I have to agree with the author's claim that "Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself."

The article went on to be really funny at first. The author tried to get find a few people willing to travel to the concert with him. He was hoping to get the human angle, the "here's what the herd is thinking" sideline. Instead he tragically misunderstood the average age of the people who read the board he posted on. He realized one email too late that he had "just traipsed out onto the World Wide Web and asked a bunch of 12-year-old Christians if they wanted to come for a ride in [his] van." A few days later when he consulted his lawyer he was given the excellent advice to "never touch a computer again."

Surprisingly though a few pages in the article turned into quite a beautiful discussion of faith. Turns out the author had gone through what he described as a "Jesus phase" and was quite willing to talk about it. Speaking of his spiritual walk he described faith as "a logical door which locks behind you." He went on to say:

Everything about Christianity can be justified within the context of Christian belief. That is, if you accept its terms. Once you do, your belief starts modifying the data (in ways that are themselves defensible, see?), until eventually the data begin to reinforce belief. The precise moment of illogic can never be isolated and may not exist. Like holding a magnifying glass at arm's length and bringing it toward your eye: Things are upside down, they're upside down, they're right side up. What lay between? If there was something, it passed too quickly to be observed.

Forgive me for being shallow but since when are there philosophical discussions in the pages of GQ? I was impressed by the way in which he was able to look at his own faith from a distance even though, now that it is lost to him he seems to mourn it, or perhaps mourn it's passing. He wrote, "My problem is not that I dream I'm in hell or that [my Christian friend] is at the window. It isn't that I feel psychologically harmed. It isn't even that I feel like a sucker for having bought it all. It's that I love Jesus Christ."

And that leaves me sitting here in reflection having just read GQ. What happens to a man who loves Jesus but has lost his faith? The author himself claims that his apostasy is a sign he never truly believed, but I don't buy that. He ended the article with lines from a poem I have never heard before. He said they came from Czeslaw Milosz:
And if they all, kneeling with poised palms,
millions, billions of them, ended together with their illusion?

I shall never agree. I will give them the crown.
The human mind is splendid; lips powerful,
and the summons so great it must open Paradise.

Afterwards, John Sullivan writes, "that's so exquisite. If you could just mean it. If one could only say it and mean it."

I don't know how belief eludes him. He seems to want to believe, or perhaps want to be the kind of man who could believe. He admits that he used to believe it and that he doubts his doubts. I find myself thinking of a man standing at a door and I wonder if John Sullivan is knocking or simply standing in front of it. I have no idea.

under the banner of heaven

I finally finished reading John Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven today. It's taken me longer than usual to finish, probably because it's not exactly the kind of book you curl up with in bed. Having arrived at the end though, I can definitely say that it was worth the trip.

Under the Banner of Heaven has made me think quite a bit so it gets points for that right off the bat. John Krakauer is a gifted writer. I went up Everest with him in Into Thin Air so I had high hopes going into Banner. I was not disappointed.

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith is, from my limited perspective, a fair approach to Mormonism in North America. Krakauer does not hide his incredulity at some of the things he discovers along the way but I never felt that he was judging his subject. He seemed to really try to present various sides and in many cases let Mormonism speak for itself through the voices of the faithful. Much of what I thought I knew about Mormonism turns out to be false. The truth as presented here isn't much better.

There were several things that surprised me in this book:

1. That there really are living, breathing, practicing polygamists right here in Beautiful British Columbia (or should that be Bountiful?). [Ok, technically, I found that out just prior to reading the book, but still.]

2. That right here in the so-called civilized parts of the world there are girls being given away to men twice their age by parents who are supposed to protect them.

3. That a man can be convicted of two murders and sentenced to death more than once and yet still be among the living 21 years later.

4. That a person can believe so strongly in their faith that they are willing to stand still and let their brother choke the life out of them because they firmly believe that "God told him to do it."

What strikes me about so many of the people in this book is the sheer force of the strength of their convictions. I have to ask myself, if I truly believed that my God was asking me to do something terrible, would I be willing to abandon myself to it? I don't think God is in the business of telling people to do terrible things. But would I be willing to stand against all of society and act? There is an element of surrender to it that's frightening -- what can you do to a man who is truly willing to give everything for his faith? He's untouchable.

In its study of Mormonism, Under the Banner of Heaven can't help but take a closer look at faith itself. How do we as a civilization uphold religious freedom and protect its 15 year old victims at the same time? How can I say that my faith is okay because it's not hurting anyone if you believe that what's happening at the hands of your faith is ordained by God himself?

I think I'll be chewing on this book for a while yet. Thanks John Krakauer. And thanks Issachar, you were right. I did need to read it.

hello little one

I was checking out DAve and JAnie's blog today and they posted the ultrasound pics of my niece or nephew. This one's my favourite because you can actually see the little hand waving:



JAnie said that she and DAve were starting to freak out because they could only count four fingers until the technician helpfully pointed out that the thumb is on the other side.

Just a few more months until I get to see the real thing. I can hardly wait. There's still lots of time for Auntie Claire to go shopping. Chapters, here I come :)

happy anniversary to me

It was just about this time of year ten years ago that, nervous and uncertain I stepped on to a plane to come to British Columbia for the very first time. I remember the lady in the seat beside me asking me what I was doing in Vancouver. I told her I was coming out here to go to school. She asked if I was from BC and I admitted that I've never been there before. "You've never even seen it?" she asked. "And you're coming out here, sight unseen. You've signed up for four years? You're brave." Great, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.

I remember flying over the Rockies and the captain coming on the loud speaker telling everyone to look out the window because it was unlikely we'd ever get a day as clear as this one again. The mountains took my breath away. I hoped that they always would and ten years later I'm happy to say that they still do.

I had no idea what I was flying toward, or how my life was about to change. Given the chance I'd do the whole thing all over again, exactly the same way. (Well, almost exactly ;) Of course arriving at my tenth anniversary of being in BC does mean I am dangerously close to being old. But considering what I've gained in coming here, I think it's a pretty good trade. Happy Anniversary to me.

itty-bitty tech moment

I had a tech moment! Last night I was trying to figure out how to add a link to the image in yesterday's post. I'm using the photo function in Blogger so I don't have to host the images myself and several attempts (including highlighting all of the image code and then using the link button) failed.

Then inspiration struck -- Blogger sets up the images so that if you click on them you get the larger version of the image so. . . replacing the URL of the larger image with the URL I was aiming for created a clickable image. Voila. Now why the destination link has to be the first URL and not the second I'm not sure. I'm guessing there's something in the code logic that orders it that way, but hey, second attempt worked great. So now if you click on the book below it'll take you right to Chapters where you can order it. Nice.

I’m disappointed Douglas Copeland

I never thought I’d accuse Douglas Copeland of a cop-out bait-and-switch ending but I just finished reading Girlfriend in a Coma and I have to say, I’m disappointed. I expected better. Hey Nostradamus! was haunting and beautiful and made me think about things I hadn’t really considered before. It offered characters not lovable, or even likeable in some cases, but in the end ultimately forgivable. It made me rethink my ideas about forgiveness and hope and hopelessness. Microserfs was brilliant. I laughed and snickered and I secretly wished I was cool enough to grasp all of the tech geek references. I came out of both books feeling a little, not smarter, but better thought. In the truest sense I came away from them feeling better read.

No so with Girlfriend in a Coma. The book starts off well. Copeland pulls out what is still his best party trick -- showing us a neighbourhood not unlike our own proceeding to reveal it as a complex world of human tragedy that turns out to be oddly familiar. The main character - Karen - falls into a seventeen year coma and the book follows the lives of the people left behind. About halfway through Karen wakes up, learns she has a daughter and then out of nowhere the world ends. Just like that.

Copeland spends the second half of the book in “what does it all mean” navel-gazing which would have been so trendy if he had an answer at the end of it. I feel disappointed, let down. I sat there thinking “that’s it?” I wanted to recheck the cover, this is a Douglas Copeland book, right? I was expecting a big finish, a mental feast of “ah, but you see what you really think is this” and instead I’m left feeling like all I got was a Twinkie and cold coffee and a note that says “yeah, that’s it, go home.” I guess I should have gone with Shampoo Planet or Eleanor Rigby after all.

Next up is Jon Krakauer’s Under the Banner of Heaven which Issachar promises will be worth my time. [See, every now and then I go and do exactly what you told me to :P] I'm only a few pages into it, but so far, he's right.

dr. & mrs. colvin

We had a family wedding last week-end. While I think that both of my brothers are crazy to get married in really hot places at the end of July I am happy to say that their choices of spouse, in both cases, is flawless. Nice work gentlemen.

I had a little trouble downloading the images so these are hacked-together Firework-ed screen captures, but they'll do for now. Photography purists, please look away. . . :)



The family -- Colvins (and Colvinsons) on the right, Carlsons on the left. In the past year I have gained two sisters. I have a very small family so this addition represents a 13% increase in family. Not bad huh? (If you count parents, grandparents, siblings, spouses of siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and cousin's spouses on BOTH sides of my family there's a whopping 17 of us -- and that's AFTER both weddings :)


The new Dr. & Mrs. Mark & Rachel Colvin


Getting ready to change their world forever


Happy happy


I had to include this one of Dave and Janie because it's so them. D & J are both crazy and they are some of my favourite people in the world. If you're going to road trip for 6 hours, road trip with these two. Trust me. They bring SpongeBob Squarepants and tell stories and sometimes let you help name the baby (did I mention that I'm going to be an Aunt in January?)


Happy parents. Dave got married last July, Mark got married this July so now Mom thinks I should get married next July so she gets the hat trick. I think maybe she just wants to be able to send all the anniversary cards at once :)


Mom and Janie and me


Rachel and Mark dacinging their first dance. . . awww. They picked "At Last" as a wedding song, a classic. Nice choice.


What set of holiday pics would be complete without a crazy self portrait? Janie and Jody both had husbands in the wedding party so we had a little time on our hands and Janie had a camera and well...

All in all it was a great wedding and I am very happy I was able to be there. I think I would have walked to Arizona to be there, but fortunately it didn't come to that. Congratulations you guys!

return to Hogwarts

I'm probably the only person in North America reading book 4 of the Harry Potter series this week-end. I really enjoyed the first couple of books in the series but the Dementors in book 3 scared the crap out of me so I stopped reading them. Lately everyone has been commenting on how great the sixth installment is. It seems to be everywhere -- I counted seven people reading it on the plane last week. So I thought maybe it was time to give Rowling's story another shot. What better way to spend a long week-end than relaxing in the sun with a good book?

I am most of the way through The Goblet of Fire (yes, I know, I read slowly) and I have to say that I had forgotten how much fun it is to go to Hogwarts. I love the names of things and all the invented words. (And, to be honest, I love the idea of a castle where staircases and pictures move, where the ceiling looks like the sky and any misfortune can be solved in the sick wing, even if regrowing all the bones in your arm does hurt.) I love that she has made Harry just believable enough that a hundred pages from the end of the book I still wonder if just maybe Cedric will win the Triwizard Tournament even though I know that somehow Harry will be the hero in the end.

I'm glad that so far Rowling seems to still like her hero and hasn't written him into misery quite yet. I read once that by the end of the Anne of Green Gables series, Montgomery hated her heroine but was under contract to finish 6 books. I've read the series, and towards the end things certainly seem to go south for Anne. If something is in store for Harry, please remember that I'm most of the way through book 4 so no book 5 or 6 spoilers please. I think I'll finish my education at Hogwarts afterall.

found an internet cafe

We've been staying in a gorgeous inn the past few days with no access in sight. Tonight we're in a little motel in Williams, AZ and wouldn't you know it, I found a little cafe. Perfect.

The wedding went really well and the newly minted Dr. & Mrs. Colvin are on their way to somewhere for a little R&R. I didn't get to spend much time with either of them, although I expected that. At least I can say that I've finally met the woman who won my brother's heart. It was so strange to think of this person who had been such a huge part of Mark's life for two years and I could not have picked her out of a line-up.

As they say, the wedding went off with a hitch and smiles all round. Rachel surprised Mark by flying in his Best Man at the last minute. It must have been a whirwind trip for Earl but I know it meant a lot to Mark to have him there. My Dad was thrilled to have another English accent in the room. I'm glad that we're going ot get to see them in November. It'll be good to have a conversation with my new sister-in-law.

It's been a good trip so far. The night I flew in it was 11.00pm at 86 degrees outside. It hasn't cooled down much since. Everythign is air conditioned, but eventually you have to step outside and it's like walking into a pizza oven.

Tomorrow we head to the Grand Canyon. I'm told that it's almost impossible to describe the colours. I'm looking forward to seeing it. We gained quite a bit of elevation on the drive over. It's closer to 85 degrees here and feels down right balmy after Tucson.

It's been great spending today with Mom & Dad and Dave & Janie just goofing off in the car. I really wish we all lived a little closer together. I have a few blogs that I'll post when I get back home. I've got pretty limited time here, so I guess I'll end this post here for now. I'm sure I'll have plenty to say when I get home. (Hmm, they have this browser set-up so I can't spell check. Well, hey, I'm on vacation. Surely even editors are allowed a break :)

the legacy of a leader

I came across a really interesting quote in Wired today. It said

Culture is the legacy of a leader. What is the leader's responsibility? To establish trust, a set of values, and to foster communications that forms the team. ~ Gene Kranz

Gene Kranz is a former NASA flight director for the Apollo 11 lunar landing and leader of the ground team that brought the crew of Apollo 13 safely back to Earth after an explosion crippled the spacecraft in flight. In the interview the quote comes from, Kranz is speaking specifically about corporate culture rather than the geographical culture.

It's interesting though to think of leaders as responsible not only for what their team does but for the manner in which they do it, the way they treat each other, their attitudes at the water cooler, the way they handle victory and defeat. Interesting to think of a legacy not of what got done, but how it got done.

This is only a partially developed thought, but it's kept my attention all day so I hoped that noting it might help the rest of it take shape. It's strange that a leadership quote stood out to me. I don't read leadership books. I don't like the front of the room. I am asked to lead more often than I would like. But there's something about this quote that is working its way around my brain. I'm not entirely sure that it's a fair quote -- can one person be held responsible for another's attitude? But if the leaders don't take responsibility for the 'feel' of a place, who will?

good day

One of the truly great things about working from home one day a week is that I can be down by the beach a little after seven in the morning and still make it to work on time. And this morning I actually did.

It was awesome -- cool and quiet but still busy. There were a bunch of people walking or jogging and a pair of what looked like shrimp boats moored down on the floating dock beside the pier. (I know we don't have shrimp out this way, but they were shrimp-boat-shaped. Wonder what they were trolling for?) I passed a family going down the pier. I hear the Mom say to her 10-year-old son "Where's your sweater? You're going to freeze on the boat" and a few minutes later I heard said 10-year-old's thundering footsteps as he ran back to get it. I wanted to stick around to see which boat they were taking out, but I was getting short on time.

I keep telling myself that someday I'm going to find out what the sun looks like rising up over that water. But I don't think I'll be trying that on a day when I have to go to work. It felt like summer today, even just for a little bit. It's been a good day.

dred part 2 (an experiment)

I was reading on the Google Blog today that you can now upload pics directly from the Blogger interface so I thought I'd give it a shot. I don't have too many pics of my own (did I mention wanting a digital camera? And a laptop.. . .and a pony. . .) I thought I'd steal, I mean borrow, a couple from DAve and JAnie. They are generous sorts and I doubt that they'd mind. SO here goes, an experiment in photo blogging, take one.


This is my brother DAve, with dreds. As far as I know he's had these dreds about three years. If I remember my family history correctly, his wife has never seen him without them.


And here he is without. I think he looks exactly like the last photo I have of him before he started growing his hair. (Which is a little strange, because he was a highschool student then and now he's a married youth pastor, soon-to-be-Dad. Crazy.)

Interesting, so the photo blogging is relatively painless. Okay Blogger people, here's what I want to know:

a) How come the code automatically inserts right at the top of my post window regardless of where the cursor was when I hit the photo button?

b) Why doesn't the text automatically align with the photo when I add the second photo? Is that a feature so that if I had seven pics about one thing the text would be continuous?

Hmm, well the spacing issue is a little annoying but other than that, that was pretty easy. Cool.

Update: Ok I knew that was too easy. . . turns out that template width is not reflected in preview so you have to go back and adjust spacing. If anyone knows a hack to get preview to preview actually in my template of choice, I'm all ears.

Second update: turns out that selecting "center" takes care of the text alignment problem in narrow-width templates. Nice.

economy of attention

I was sitting the living room reading the National Post this evening. I recently gained a new respect for the National Post upon discovering that while they do not print the New York Times crossword puzzle they do print the daily sudoku. Decisions, decisions. I saw an article on blogs in the financial section and was intrigued. The article turned out to be asking if anyone is ever going to make any money on blogs (what an original question). But part way through there was a very interesting quote.

The author quoted Dick Costello, CEO of FeedBurner as saying that "In an economy of attention, the advertisers and marketers will follow eyeballs."

I thought that was such an interesting way to view the world 'an economy of attention'. It makes so much sense. There has been a lot said lately about the Information Age and the Information worker. Gerry McGovern would have us believe that the Information worker must soon give way to the content manager (and as a content manager, I'd like to think he's right :) However, all the information in the world is useless if you can't get and keep people's attention, at least long enough to pass the info along.

What is eloquence worth if no one is listening? What are ideas if no one can understand? For some reason it made me think of receptors on cells (maybe because one of Kendra's bio texts is here on the desk.) But I was thinking of cell receptors and how if the receptors are blocked or missing or broken, there can be all the chemicals in the world available but they'll never enter the cell.

I work on a group of 22 websites and we are always asking the question "what is the message?" but in this analogy, the message is the chemical. Shouldn't we be asking "what is the receptor?" not so much how do we get the message to them, but how do we help them hear what we are saying? I was talking to my Dad earlier this evening and he reminded me that the cardinal rule of public speaking is this "when you've lost the audience's attention, stop speaking."

In an economy of attention, even if the medium is the message, does it matter? Do we just broadcast as far and wide as possible and hope that someone turns our way or is their a way to help them hear? Do we get their attention first, and then start talking?

but will I have more fun?

Seems to be a week for changing hairstyles. . . Earlier this week my brother cut off his dreds and today after somewhat misunderstanding what the hairdresser was saying I am now blonder than I have been since high school. I thought he was suggesting two different shades of highlights when in fact I agreed to dying the whole thing. I have never dyed all of it. Not even close.

In a rather unfair twist of fate, I've been home for almost four hours and all three of my roommates are out. I went to the salon by myself so I am still waiting for someone to tell me that it's not really all that blonde and I'm over reacting a little and it's totally fine. Odds are good it is fine and isn't really all that noticeable and in a day or two I will probably love it. Now if someone would just come home and tell me that. . .

In the meantime I'm left to ponder the eternal question: will I have more fun?

night of the living dred

Surprising family news yesterday. . . after several years of dreded bliss my brother Dave decided it was time for a change. In his own words he said he was "tired of sleeping on a pile of rope" so he walked into a hair salon, freaked out the staff and got himself a new look. The pictures are great:

DAve and JAnie's blog

MIT survey

So what did you do today? I helped some people over at MIT with a little research project they've got going. . .

I'm curious to see what they are going to do with the results of this blogging survey. It seems to be focusing quite heavily on blogs as a tool for social networking. For myself, all the people in my blog links are people I know personally, except for one. I wonder if that's the exception or the rule? Maybe it depends on whether the blog is primarily for business or personal use.

Either way, if the boys at MIT are focusing their unusually large brains on blogs and calling it science, is the blog officially sitting at the grown-up's table now?

Happy Canada Day

Ok, I know I'm a day late, but it's still worth saying. This is a great country and it should be celebrated. I kept my Canada Day tradition of singing the national anthem, loudly, once in English, once in French. I wore red. I even pulled out my red and white stripped Cat-in-the-Hat hat for the fireworks. I'm still a sucker for fireworks.

I remember the day I became a Canadian. It was March in Ontario, bitterly cold. I remember walking down by the river and the wind coming off the water was so strong I thought it was going to blow me away. Our turn came and we went and stood before the judge. I was surprised that it was a real judge, in robes and everything. I wondered if she was going to decided whether we would be allowed to be citizens or not. But it wasn't like that.

She told my parents to place their hand on a Bible and read the card. Halfway through I looked over and noticed that Mark was reading it to and so I started reading right in the middle of a sentence. For ages I wondered if I really was a Canadian because I missed the beginning and never said my name, or that I solemnly declared. They gave me my certificate and my card came in the mail. They took a picture of me with a Mountie so I must be Canadian enough.

It didn't take very long in the end. I know that there were classes and tests and things that my parents had to do. I was nine so I got to skip that part. Just a few minutes on a cold day in March and this whole country was ours. It is not without its problems, but it is a great country. And it should be celebrated.

la vida robot

Back in April Wired ran a story about four kids from Arizona who kicked some serious butt at a national robotics competition. The article, "La Vida Robot" told the story of four kids living in one of the less picturesque parts of the country. Two teachers at their school decided to start a robotics club and when they actually got some members entered them in a national competition.

As on of the teachers explained, they skipped the high school division and competed against college teams because "they figured their students would lose anyway, and there was more honor in losing to the college kids." Except that they didn't lose. They won the whole thing.

I sat there reading the article which explains how brilliant these kids are and how none of them qualify for financial aid for college because they are all illegal immigrants. One went back to hanging drywall. Another had a future of subsistence farming to look forward to. I sat there reading thinking, "Someone, please send these boys to college."

Well the world is a little brighter today. Someone did.

I saw a little update in the June issue of Wired tonight. So far $57 000 in scholarship money has come in for these guys and the producer of ER and The West Wing wants to make a movie. If everything goes well, if the statistics manage to hold off just for a little while Lorenzo Santillan, Cristian Arcega, Luis Aranda and Oscar Vazquez are going to college.

I wonder if their parents ever really thought it would happen as they drove through the night in the trunk of a station wagon? America has not always lived up to its potential, but tonight I have to say, nice work. For more information about the college fund see La Vida Robot Scholarship Fund.

Here's to the dreamers. . .

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.

Come in! Come in!
~Shel Silverstein

the world gets a little cooler

Whoo hoo! As of today I have speakers (thanks A!). Of course like any good techie I figured I better take them for a test run, so I headed over to Homestar Runner for some good times (I mean serious testing) with StrongBad and the Teen Girl Squad. I was not disappointed.

After initial testing was complete I headed back over to Odeo to see what this site really had in store. I have to say, I'm impressed. My knowledge of podcasting up to now was purely theoretical. (And in all honestly, largely informed by a single article in Wired -- which I can't link to tonight as their site is not responding.) Within about a minute on Odeo I was listening to my very first podcast. I easily navigated the various casts available and soon stumbled upon the "coming soon" section where the Odeo Studio will let paid subscribers create and upload podcasts. Very cool.

In a perfect example of the itty bitty world in which we live, I randomly selected a cast to listen to -- one on how to chop an onion without crying -- and the people behind it are from Vancouver. Apparently podcasters are already getting together in groups and one of these groups meets in our fair city. Too funny.

For now they are not allowing people to pass Odeo invites out, but if that changes, I'll let you know. Do I see myself becoming a serious podcaster? Well on the one hand it would let speak without having to get up in front of people, but in all honesty, I don't feel an addiction coming on any time soon. Still, it's nice to be asked.

so very nearly cool

I received an invite today to be a beta tester for Evan William's latest project. Odeo is podcasting meets audioblogger meets bloglines. It's a collaboration between Evan (one of the creators of Blogger) and Noah Glass (the guy behind AudBlog and ListenLab). For a minute there I was feeling so urban and connected. I went onto the site and signed-up and enjoyed the buzz of feeling "in" for about a minute and a half. One of the really cool things about Odeo is that it works on any mP3 player. I don't have an mP3 player.

But for a minute there I was so very nearly cool.

*****
Update to post. Went back to Odeo and turns out that you don't even have to have an mP3 player you can listen in on your computer. Which would be great except that this computer doesn't have speakers. It used to, but it turns out that speaker power supplies aren't universal. Seemed like such a good idea until I saw the smoke. So very, nearly, almost and yet not quite cool.

robin in the rain

It was my turn to cook yesterday. When I went shopping on Monday it was a classic summer day so when I saw steak on special at Safeway a barbecue sounded perfect. By Tuesday it was raining. By the time I was ready to start barbecuing it was REALLY raining. But that's what Gortex is for.

I was only outside a few minutes when the words to a song my Mom used to sing to me came back to me. I could hear her voice singing, accented still after all these years:

Robin in the rain, what a saucy fellow
robin in the rain, in your socks of yellow

I had to laugh. A little later on I noticed that I'd planted a whole bunch of flowers in areas where the rain didn't reach them so I got out the hose. I figured I was already out there anyway. How strange it must have looked -- a girl out watering flowers in the rain singing a little song about a bird. I had to laugh at myself.

Towards the end of the song it says, "robin in the rain, you don't mind the weather." I guess that makes two of us.

grafedia and the technorati

Last Friday Wired ran an article on a new phenomenon called grafedia and several days later I am still intrigued. Grafedia is simple in practice, but the concept is further proof that the line between the real world and the digital world continues to blur.

According to the article it works like this: you take a picture of anything you like and choose a word. Then email the picture to yourword@grafedia.net. Once grafedia has your image it gets loaded onto their servers and you run around town painting yourword@grafedia.net anywhere you like (at your own risk of course). Anyone who sees your email link can send a text message to the address and they will receive your image by email. Crazy huh?

Where it gets even crazier is that some people are just underlining a word in an ad in blue and turning that into grafedia (ie just email the underlined word @ grafedia.net) Suddenly ads can become art. I can create a public work of art with nothing but a blue pen. I can make a statement about your statement literally, without saying a word. Now granted, this isn't exactly a wide-spread phenomenon yet. I haven't seen any grafedia in White Rock, but I wonder if I'd be able to find some in Vancouver? Can't you just picture it run amok at Google HQ, or Microsoft? You know what nerds are like ;)

I'm intrigued by the idea of stealth street art, of associating something with something completely different -- ie creating a link on an ad that maybe goes to another product altogether, or a BBB report or. . . They talk about the technorati as its own privileged little group. Did we just find the secret handshake?

can I quote you on that?

There's been a lot of discussion in my life lately about words. Granted, I edit for a living so that shouldn't come as a particularly great surprise. I've been intrigued by an ongoing discussion of language and the internet in particular. What is boils down to basically is this: what you say online lives forever and there's really no telling just how far it will go.

I remember a few years ago when I first started working online I was doing copyright research. I found a complete copy of the text of a book posted online. I think it was one of A. W Tozer's though I couldn't quite be sure. I saw a name and a little information at the bottom of all that text and with a little more online sleuthing had a current email address for the original author of the page. I sent him an email asking him if he knew how I could contact the publisher. I was trying to get reprint permission for an excerpt from the same book and he seemed to have secured just such permission. I was astonished to get an email back from this man almost instantly.

He wrote that he had put the book online almost 20 years ago, back in the days of Usenet when only the nerdiest of Com. Sci. profs and NASA guys had ever heard of the internet. He begged me to give him the URL where I found the text saying that he had spent the last 20 years scouring the internet and trying to remove it. He was convinced that one day there would be a knock on his door from a copyright lawyer ready to take him for everything he had.

It reminded me of the old proverb about gossip where a person who has committed slander goes to the one he talked about and asks forgiveness. He is told to take a feather pillow out into the village square, rip it open and send the feathers out into the wind. When he returns, task accomplished he is told to go back and gather up the feathers and realizes that it is not possible.

All of this ties into a current discussion a friend of mine told me is happening online. The debate concerns author Orson Scott Card and whether or not a certain work of his is an apology for Hitler. As you might imagine, discussion is getting pretty heated. I've followed some of it on the Kuro5hin site. I am not nearly connected enough to be a K5 regular, but my friend is and he let me tag along. So far the original article has generated over 600 comments, some from people who claim to know Card personally. What I found most interesting though was one of the early comments from one of the editors of K5 who uses the name cribcage. Speaking of the original commentary that appeared on K5 he writes:

Shortly after posting, this article appeared among the top results on a Google search for "Orson Scott Card." It will likely remain there for some time. I'm reminded of Internet 101: If you write it, be prepared to answer for it.

That has really stuck with me over the past day or two "if you write it, be prepared to answer for it" -- seems I've heard something like that somewhere before. What I've really been thinking about though is this -- many us, whether through our own mistakes or the example of others are learning to be pretty careful about what we put online. It's very easy for someone to quote us, and as we know, almost impossible to make it go away. (Wired ran a story today talking about the original BBS of the late 70s and how you can still find them in Google today.) But do I think about that in what I say? If someone followed me around with a tape recorder all day, even in traffic, would I like what it sounded like? I think it probably depends on the day. But it's a good reminder to be careful.

One of my roommates is a teacher and she has often said that she constantly reminds herself to be gentle with her words when she speaks to her students. Those words, once out there, can be written in flesh for years. I was reading an article the other day and in it someone was describing a home they had frequented as a child. They summed it up by saying "there was so much love in that house you could almost reach out and grab a handful." I love that. Someday I want someone to say that about my home. I'm starting to build that someday today.

in the shadow of a migraine

I spent today in the shadow of a migraine. Not exactly my favourite way to spend a day. I managed to sleep through the worst of the brain-splitting part but even the leftovers aren't much fun. Today was a gorgeously sunny day and the part of it I was awake for I spent trying diligently not to move my head. A sad waste of sunshine. I was gearing-up for a really good "poor, sad me" and I got thinking about the fact that I had spent one day unwell - just one sun-shiney day - and I realized once again that I have a lot to be thankful for.

A friend of mine is setting off for a year of travel with her family starting in September. We were talking the other day about how she's looking forward to showing her daughters that life doesn't often look like North America. We're living in Disneyland year-round by comparison to a lot of places. She was telling me a story from years ago when she and her husband were in Maputo. She was invited to a wedding at one point and one of the local women was explaining to my friend what it took to get married in Mozambique. A bride needed five things to be ready to marry - a pot to cook in and a brazier to cook over, a water bucket, a cloth ring to carry it on her head and a fifth thing that I can't quite remember. All these years later my friend remembers thinking about all the bridal registries she had seen filled with crystal and whatnot and how silly it seemed by comparison.

I'm not suggesting that we start buying water buckets as wedding gifts but I think that I need to remember how often my own perspective is so limited. I was sick today, for one day. It has happened before and it will happen again. But I know several people personally who have been sick a lot longer than a single day. I am so grateful that God often reminds us gently of who we are, and who He is. He doesn't often take everything away to remind us of what we had. He points out the little things and says "See, I love you, I've said so right here in that soft pillow, in the cupboards full of food in your kitchen."

As I climb into bed at night I try to remember to include in my prayers thanks for a place to sleep -- a place that is warm, and dry and clean and safe. There is so much to be thankful for, even on days when my world is mostly restricted to the space of a mattress.

until your brain catches up

I have had lot of meetings at work this week. A LOT. My brain starts to revolt after a certain point. I was talking to Andrew today and told him that I was pretty sure my brain had left the building and he suggested an excellent course of action. "Why don't you go home" he said. "Drop by your house long enough to pick up a book. Head to the beach and stay there until your mind finds you and your brain catches up." Excellent advice. I modified it a little to include a trip to the grocery store for picnic supplies and was on my way.

There's a bit of a wind tonight. Probably not enough to sail on but enough to amplify the sound of the tide coming in. There was no one at my favourite spot so I claimed it for myself once again. Off came the shoes. I couldn't say exactly why, but every time I'm down there it just seems appropriate to ditch the footwear. Maybe it's a sacred soul spot, a business free zone, a place where the world is a little closer to the way it should be. I picnicked and read and listened and waited and you know, Andrew was right. My mind did find me and my brain did catch up. I feel like I've had a good, long sleep.

My roommate Ceone shared a quote with me the other day that goes like this: Don't just do something, stand there. So often we're told that doing something, even the wrong thing, is preferable to waiting. I know that there are times when that's true, times when we have to take a step in any direction or risk being stuck forever. But I think that there are times when the quote holds true as well. If I'm just doing something, anything, without any thought at all then maybe it's time to just stand there. Or just sit on my favourite piece of driftwood. Just for a little while, until my brain catches up.

bunnies and polka dots

I was talking to a friend today and he suggested that yesterday's posts were a tad depressing. I can see his point so I said that today I better write about bunnies and polka dots so no one gets concerned about my mental state. But I don't really know that much about bunnies and polka dots so I'll post a happy thought of a different sort.

I found out today that Tango Paradiso, one of my all time favourite bands is playing the Vancouver International Jazz Festival again this summer. Whoo hoo! The concert is set for July 02, 2005 in David Lam Park (Pacific Blvd. & Drake St. Concord Pacific Place) at 4:30 PM . If you've never heard Tango Paradiso, I highly recommend them. They are an incredibly talented group of local musicians.

The first time I heard them was a few years ago at the Jazz festival. A bunch of us were downtown for the Canada Day celebrations and were walking around Grandville Island when the music started up. It ended up being one of those perfect Vancouver moments. Beautiful music playing on a summer's evening with the sun setting over the bay . . . hard to beat that.

one other thing about time

Just remembered the other big thing that got me thinking about time tonight. I've been reading a little lately about the upcoming release of Karla Homolka. I know she's been in jail for twelve years and I'm sure if I'd been in jail that long it would seem like forever but it just doesn't seem like enough time. I know that she would have gotten a longer sentence if they didn't offer her a deal to testify against Bernardo. I'm sure there's a lot more that went into the sentencing that I know nothing about. But three people are dead, and even if she's only legally being held responsible for two, how can twelve years be enough? How can that be long enough to say sorry for what those girls went through, what their families are still going through.

I saw The Interpreter over the week-end and in one scene Nicole Kidman's character talks about an African justice ritual called the "drowning man trial". A brief Google search on the drowning man trial returned no useful results so it is entirely possible that the whole concept is pure fiction and not even remotely based on actual customs, however it's still an interesting idea. In the movie it goes like this -- if a person is murdered and the murdered is caught, a year later a drowning man trial is held on the banks of a river. The family and friends of the victim throw a huge all night party on the banks and in the morning the murdered is tied up, rowed out in the river and thrown overboard. If the family chooses to, they can pull him out saving his life but in return ending their mourning. If they choose to let him drown, they get justice but will mourn forever.

Ok, it's likely fiction although it may have roots somewhere, but the idea is interesting. Which is more important justice or an end to suffering? Can there ever truly be an end to suffering? For the French and Mahaffy families I can only say that I dearly hope so. For myself, twelve years does not seem long enough. She shouldn't be getting out. Not yet. Not ever.

not yet

Ever wonder why God gave us time? I've been thinking about that lately. I know that we are made in the image of God, but He is without time, eternal, uncaused. I know that we are not exactly like God (I am not God, and for the record I'm pretty sure you're God either) and yet one of the things He chose to include in our experience is time. You could argue, quite well I think, that without time as both a concept and a marker the human mind would go crazy. And maybe it's a simple question of God giving us time because our biology requires it. But it didn't have to be that way. He could have create none-time-dependent minds, more like His own I guess.

One of the things that got me thinking about this is that there are a lot of people in my life facing transitions right now. A friend of mine is moving unexpectedly. Another got engaged last week and has set a wedding date for three weeks from now. Yet another is facing a divorce. All these big changes happening. When Stefanie wrote about her upcoming move I wrote in the comments that "I think that you could sum up so much of the human condition in that little phrase "not yet". And the more I think about it the more there is to say about it.

It's so odd really. How often do we rail against time when we know, perhaps with more certainty than we know anything else, that time will keep moving. This too shall pass. A warning and a promise in four little words. I remember coming out to BC to go to Trinity. I had never been to BC before. I had never seen the campus I was heading for. All I knew was the world as I knew it was about to change and whatever happened from here on in, it was never going to be the same.

I remember sitting in the dark in my room, which was already starting to look less like my room and listening to just about the worst song I could have listened to that night. It was a Moxy Fruvous song called "Fly". It's all about riding a rollercoaster after hours and the chorus says "untied the rope so they could fly, let's take a last ride, you and I". Brutal. I put the song on repeat for about an hour and just sat up against the door and silently sobbed. Years later I told my Mom about it and her great wisdom which I can only hope to learn someday she said "My darling girl, why didn't you turn it off and just come get a hug." Wise words. I try to remember to take that advice now.

What it is about us that makes us cling so tightly to what we know? So often the reality waiting for us is nothing to be afraid of, it's just different. Sometimes it is wonderful, more than we ever could have imagined. I remember how badly I wanted to rip up my plane ticket at Pearson that day, and now, standing here, I would not trade those years for anything. Truth be told about an hour after the flight took off I wouldn't have traded. Once you've said your goodbyes the rest is just travelling.

Dylan Thomas, in perhaps his most famous poem encouraged us not to go gently, to "burn and rage at close of day" but I like what he said in another slightly less well known poem. At the very end of "Fern Hill" he writes "Time held me green and dying/ Though I sang in my chains like the sea." Time will keep moving, with or without us, but here's to singing. Maybe that's why we need time in the first place, as the rythmn to our songs. Perhaps it is the cliff that tempts us to take a leap. Maybe it's there to remind us that we're only passing through.

do you sudoku?

I have a new puzzle addiction brewing. I was reading Wired the other day and they had a story about the Sudoku puzzle craze that is reported to be taking England by storm. I am a fan of puzzles. I really like New York Times crosswords even though anything past a Wednesday puzzle is a consistently humbling experience. I used to do logic puzzles as a kid so I thought I'd give these sudoku things a try.

At first glance they are deceptively simple looking. Each puzzle is a 9*9 grid with a few numbers filled in. The rules are basic -- each row and column must contain the numbers 1 through 9 only once with no repeats and the same must be true of each 3*3 grid within the puzzle. Easy, right? I am reminded of the old commercials for the game Othello "a moment to learn, a life time to master." Well, pencil in hand I took a shot. And four puzzles later I finally solved one.

And now I want more.

I've already got Stefanie from work hooked on them. If you want to take a shot at them yourself, I recommend Sudoku for Daily Telegraph readers. In the right column there's a link to the Daily Sudoku archive. (Note of caution, the puzzles are all graded in the bottom right hand corner. Do yourself a favour and go back to the January & February sections to find an easy puzzle to start with.)

I have to go download more puzzles now. . . .

nerdy enough

I was on one of those friend-of-a-friend blog trails today and ended up on a Nerd Test, which of course I took because I was on a break goofing off anyway. I went through all of the questions and scored 31% and here's the weird part -- I was a little disappointed. [Sidenote: I have to wonder if being disappointed in a low nerd score automatically increases a person's nerd quotient, but that wasn't part of the quiz.] So I guess I'm not THAT nerdy (which may be a good thing) but I am nerdy enough to find this funny:

Things You Don't Want To Hear From Technical Support

• Do you have a sledgehammer or a brick handy?


• That's right, not even McGyver could fix it.


• So -- what are you wearing?


• Duuuuuude! Bummer!


• Looks like you're gonna need some new dilithium crystals, Cap'n.


• Press 1 for Support. Press 2 if you're with 60 Minutes. Press 3 if you're with the FTC.


• We can fix this, but you're gonna need a butter knife, a roll of duct tape, and a car battery.


• In layman's terms, we call that the Hindenburg Effect.


• Hold on a second... Mom! Timmy's hitting me!


• Okay, turn to page 523 in your copy of Dianetics.


• Please hold for Mr. Gates' attorney.

So I'm not nerdy enough to know how to code an unordered list off the top of my head but I am nerdy enough to Google it and follow the instructions. Maybe a little nerdiness is a good thing, as long as it doesn't get out of hand. I have a piece of paper taped to my monitor that says "Odds are it's doing exactly what you told it to." Fear not hard working helpdesk staff, I have no intention of taking it down. I know my limits. I'm nerdy enough.

that was awesome

Last Friday I was one of lucky ones rocking it out at U2's Vertigo show in Vancouver. I danced like a fool, I sang like an idiot, I screamed and I hollered and I loved it. U2 was my first big rock concert. I'm told that I've started with the best of the best, sipped Cristal on my first night out if you will. If it's all downhill from here, it was worth it.

We got seats for the price of SRO floors because they were behind the stage. If I had the chance, I would ask for them on purpose next time. Yes, the band had their backs to us for parts of the show, but we had a bird's-eye-second-row view of the stage. We were so close we could see the smile on Bono's face. I'm sure we would have been able to smell the sweat if not for the pot.

The warm-up band (Kings of Leon) mostly stunk. I recognized their first song from the new VW Jetta commercial. After that RuthAnn and I spent most of the set commenting on how the drummer bore a remarkable resemblance to Viggo Mortensen. Lose the beard and trim up the long hair and he could have been The Blouse Man. The best part of the opening act was when said beautiful drummer got his gum caught in his hair. Some days it is so hard to be cool.

U2 came on stage and it's hard to pick out a favourite moment after that. It was so loud you couldn't help but listen with your entire body and it would have been impossible to resist the urge to dance. I decided not to try. I think I lasted one song in my seat out of deference for the row behind me, but as soon as they started cranking out Beautiful Day the folks in row 3 were on their own. The entire stadium was singing. I hope there weren't any concerts purists in the crowd who wanted to 'hear the band'. It reminded me of the double date scene in The Wedding Singer where the girls start wailing on David Bowie's China Girl and Glen keeps saying "let's let David sing it" tee hee.

All in all it was so totally worth it. I was there and I've got the shirt to prove it. I can officially cross "go to a real rock concert" off of my list of things I've always wanted to do but haven't. Maybe this summer I'll finally make it onto a Ferris wheel.

both alike in dignity

Today I received the invitation to my brother's wedding so I guess it's officially official. He lives in England and the wedding is in Arizona so I've missed all of the usual pre-wedding chaos. For me, it began today. I had to chuckle a little as I read the invitation. It was about this time last year that I received another invitation to my other brother's wedding and two less-similar invites would be hard to imagine.

My brothers are eight years apart but they are getting married only a year apart, almost exactly. If you saw photographs of my brothers when they both had short hair you'd see an unmistakable family resemblence. But beyond that they are so very different. Mark is competative, Dave is communal. Mark is at home in a crowd, Dave is at home playing life-sized Monopoly. They are both artistic, both smart, both funny, both more private that you might guess at first glance.

Dave & Janie's invites were orange and covered in Dave's own artwork, a collage of angels and faces. Mark and Rachel's are classic and traditional. Vellum over a photograph tied with a white ribbon. In some ways my brothers are a lot like their invitations, the same idea expressed two completely different ways. Reminds me of the opening to Romeo and Juliet --'two houses, both alike in dignity.'

And where do I fit between these two? Hard to say. I am more focussed than Dave but less brave, less up front than Mark but better able to relate. I always wished I had a sister to balance things out. Now I have Janie and Rachel. And for a while at least, we've got the guys outnumbered :)

choosing your family

Yesterday was the Sun Run. It's a bit of a misnomer if you ask me, but you have to appreciate the optimism (thanks Andrew). It rained, which I'm told is pretty common, but it was still great. There's something magical about fifty thousand people of varying athletic ability all showing up to go 10K. Pretty cool.

This year we got really organized and put a team together. (Well, maybe not THAT organized, we did register about 2 hours before the final deadline.) Still, there we were proudly wearing our Level Ground t-shirts. (Level Ground is Kendra's cousin's fair trade coffee company. If you ever get the chance to try it, I highly recommend their Cafe San Miguel espresso roast. Mmmmmmm.) It was certainly different walking with a team of 14 this year instead of the 3 we had last year. For starters we had kidlets with us so there were bathroom breaks. But having the kids there also meant it was a whole lot of fun. I'm not sure how many other people got to skip through the Sun Run, or do the Hokey-Pokey or sing Veggie Tales en route.

The team was mostly made up of Kendra's family. I have had the great privilege of being an honorary Froese the past few years and it's been wonderful. After the Sun Run we headed off to Monica's place for swimming and hot tubbing and lunch. It was great to have a 'family afternoon' when my own blood family is so far away. I was told once that the process of growing up involves choosing your family. There is some family you're born with, and some you choose; some you decide to hold in your heart. Just as we were leaving Kendra's Mom said the nicest thing. She turned to Ceone and Judy and I and said "I so love having you girls here. Everytime you're with us you feel more like family." What a beautiful thing to say. What an honour to be chosen to be held in her heart.

what I love about Vancouver

I grew up in a very, very white town. I've lived in England and Nigeria, but I don't remember much of it. Mostly I remember this place where everyone looked the same. I can remember people referring to "the black kid" in high school. There was only one, in a school of 1200. Scary. But it's not like that here.

I'm told that directory assistance in Vancouver is available in four languages -- English, French, Punjabi and Cantonese. One of my favourite games to play down by the beach is to count how many languages are being spoken. On a typical day you'll hear five or six. The record so far, is thirteen. I love that there are signs here in languages other than English. I love that my corner grocery store carries several vareties of gyoza.

For me the ulitmate Vancouver multiculural experience was last year's St. Patrick's Day parade. There was someone in one of the pipe and drum corps repleat in turban and tartan playing for St. Patrick's Day. There was a native amercian man on the Chinese dragon boat team. There were east indian women in Cuban carneval outfits, and highland dancers who's curly red wigs bobbed up and down on decidedly un-Irish looking faces. It was wonderful.

I come from an immigrant family. It's not something I think about a lot, but it is part of who I am. I'm not from here but it has become home. Just yesterday I was talking to a friend about the rain that has been predicted for the Sun Run tomorrow. I heard myself say "but we're west coasters, if we can't handle a little rain, we shouldn't be here" and I chuckled, because I am a west coast transplant as well. The white, white town I remember is back east.

I'm not from here but you could say that I did my growing up here. Maybe that's true of of a lot us. What I love about Vancouver is that is for all of us, in our myriad colours and language, we're from here now.

imago dei

I was thinking the other day about the image of God and I realized that I always thought of it in a singular sense, applied to one person. Humans made in the image of God. I've been thinking about community lately, and a thought struck me that hadn't before. What if all of humanity together, combined, THAT was the image of God.

What if each of us has enough of Him to be recognizable, a family resemblance if you will, but it takes all of humanity together to get a full picture of who God is. If the world was as it should be without wanting or injustice imagine the collected beauty of all of those faces. Imagine the combined talent and genuis and empathy and generosity. A whole world of possiblity necessary just to approximate.

I read Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz back ion September. I pretty well had to, the book was stalking me. There's one line in the book that I'm still chewing on that says simply this "the biggest lie I've had to overcome is that life is a story about me". I'm reminded of that now. How quick I am to assume that this is my story.

a familiar face

I had coffee yesterday with an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Too long, really. I have to admit that I wondered a little about who was going to show up. Would it be the person I remembered? Would they still be familiar or would I have to look twice just to be sure? Sitting here now in the omniscient 'after' I can say this -- some things don't change.

There is a certain kind of friendship that always lets you come home. It lets you pick up right where you left off as if you'd only stepped out of the room. I think it would stretch right over a ten year abscence, but that's not a theory I want to test. It's strange writing this and knowing who will read it; almost seems like cheating. But let me say simply this: I looked across the table and saw a familiar face. And it felt good. I promise not to wait so long next time.

so close, so close

Ok, I give. Can anyone tell me how to keep the the blog title from displaying right across my nice, new header graphic? I tried taking the title out completely, but Blogger wouldn't let me save it that way. I tried taking out entire sections of code in the template that had the word title in them, but still no luck. I tried stealing the code out of Stef's header ('cause you have a really nice header Stef) and all it did was make the title display in a different font. I went into settings and clicked "show title -- no" and that took the title bar away from my posting window. Argh.

I was sooo close. I jumped through Shaw's five kerbillion hoops to set up hosting access, got cuteFTP running smoothly and now here, right at the end of things I'm stymied. I hope I don't have to hand in my subscription to Wired for this.

Any help greatly appreciated.

too cold for a picnic

It was too cold for a picnic today, but I had one anyway. After a week-end of mostly rain the sun came out so I grabbed some one-handed-food (the kind you can eat easily with a book in the other hand) and a book and headed down to the beach. In true west coast style by the time I got the beach the sun had moved on and the clouds were starting to look decidedly gray. No matter.

I made my way over to my favourite spot -- a piece of drift wood that's nearly 20' long and about 4' wide. I think it must have been part of a barge or floating deck at some point. I can't imagine how it made it's trek up the beach. It's flat enough to balance a drink on, wide enough to stretch out. For some reason I always want to take off my shoes when I get there. I keep a blanket in the trunk of my car for impromptu days like this so I had something to cut the chill a bit. The beach was worth it.

This time of year the beach is almost completely disserted, especially towards the unfashionable end. I like it best down there, away from the madding crowd. The tide was almost all the way out, carving watery crescents on the beach. There's one particular photograph of those crescents that I've seen for sale a few times. One day it will hang in my house. Today I had the real thing. I sat there for awhile, not as long as I would have liked, but there was no ignoring the fact that my hands were getting really, really cold. Nothing a good cup of tea won't fix. I folded up the blanket and put it back in my trunk. There will be other days and other picnics.

smells like beach music

There's a scene in Pat Conroy's Beach Music (one of my all time favourite books) where a father teaches his daughter to navigate around their neighbourhood piazza purely by what she can smell. I was thinking of that as I walked around my neighbourhood the other day. Most days my neighbourhood smells like cedar and salt water, especially if it has rained recently which it usually has. This time of year you can smell the daffodils by the library, fresh cut grass and turned soil. You can smell coffee from Starbucks, and then the coffee from the Candelight Grill and then a little farther down the block the coffee from the Salt Cellar (makers of most excellent deli sandwiches). Sometimes if you breathe at the wrong moment you get a lung full of exhaust, or wet dog but it doesn't happen very often. I swear some days you can actually smell the rain.

There is something incredibly peaceful about this place. Every time I'm out in it I can hear a whisper saying "slow down, breathe deep". Somewhat tragically it reminds me of what used to be on the wall at the Starbucks on the way to work: "Speak softly, people will listen, take your time the world will wait." Most of the time people won't wait, but when I walk around my neighbourhood I very often choose to walk alone. And I will wait. And I never make myself rush when I'm out there. I know that it won't always be like this. There won't always be the big tree out back hung with lanterns, or the myrtle climbing over the rocks or the branches from the holly tree trying to grab hold of my hammock. But they are here now, and I am here and I have no intention of wasting it.

tumblers in a lock

The world felt undeniable portentious this morning. I wish I knew why. I felt poised on the edge of something wonderful, as if I had just had a conversation with someone I knew was going to change my life. But that wasn't it. I was sitting at work smiling and realized that I was really happy, almost in the way you're happy when you have a good secret and haven't told anyone yet. (But that's not it either.)

It's strange that it would happen today. All week my heart has been breaking for my brother and his wife who lost three friends to an icy road on Sunday. They are too far away for me to be able to put my arms around them and there aren't words in the world that would make it better. But there's no denying it, something was good today. Something, somewhere in the universe was waiting in the wings. It was as if a key was fitted into a lock and the tumbers have started to drop. I wish I knew which door is opening.

It would be fairly easy to say that this is just a shadow of what is going around me. Several friends have added children to their families this week, their lives are changing, maybe there's something in the air. But it doesn't feel like that. In a way that I cannot really describe (although it seems I feel compelled to try) whatever this was was so very personal. It was undeniably mine. Perhaps it is a great poem waiting to be written, maybe it is a friend I have almost met. Or maybe it is a new truth hovering almost, but not quite realized; waiting for just a little more acceptance, a touch more willingness to encourage it into consciousness.

I found myself in an art store the other day buying a new sketchbook, a good pencil and some watercolor brushes. Usually I ache for words, it's been a long time since colour and line have called to me. Maybe this thing that's waiting will find me in those rough, thick pages. But I don't think that's it either.

randomness, Dilbert and cyber stalking

I have one of my favourite Dilbert cartoons pinned up at my desk at work (doesn't everyone?). In this one Dilbert is on his tour of accouting and one of the trolls introduces him to the random number generator. The generator is a troll sitting there saying "nine, nine, nine, nine, nine" (everytime I read this cartoon, I read the part of the troll in the same voice). Dibert looks at the troll and asks "are you sure that's random?" and the troll replies, "that's the trouble with randomness, you never know for sure." And so on to today's tale of randomness. . . .

I went to check out Help me bubby because I had heard about it somewhere and it sounded interesting. Up at the top was that little "next blog" button and I couldn't help it, I clicked. Down the rabbit hole with both feet. I came to a blog written by a pyschiatrist in Maine. The title is May Shrink or Fade which I found hilarious, so I started reading. It's a great blog, I highly recommend it. I've read several of the posts and I keep thinking, "me too" and I have to stop myself from commenting all over it, because really, who wants 15 me too's from someone they've never met? (Although the part about addressing rules to the cat as if they applied to several cats in the house and not just one, and you'd make an excpetion for him if you could. . . .might have to put a little me too on that one.)

As I was reading it today, I started to wonder, am I cyber stalking this guy? I have read quite a bit of his blog lately, I'm forming opinions, I've heard myself utter the phrase "No update. bummer." And then I have to wonder, it is possible to stalk someone who willingly puts their life out there? It's funny. Here is a totally random connection (and admittedly, I use the word connection loosely) and here I am thinking both "I think I'd enjoy this person in real life" and "there is no way I'd ever have MET this person in real life" and just now . . .if sitting in front of the computer isn't real life, where is it? But that's probably because I'm reading Brian Greene at the moment.

Who knows. Practical randomness and faceless familiar faces aside, it's time to go to Pilates.

the clock on the beach

The other day I was walking down by the beach with a good friend of mine. It's Sun Run training time again, and if you're going to train, you might as well train with a view. We had gotten into one of those existential discussions about life and love and one of us asked the question, "how is it that sometimes the right person just walks into your life?" I guess I've been thinking about my brother who is getting married this summer to a woman he met at a worship conference. It's not so strange a meeting until you consider that he is a Canadian studying in England and she is an American who was on her way to South Africa and stopped off in England for the conference. They have never lived in the same country in the entire time they've been together, but love has found them all the same.

As we were mulling all this over (in the way that friends do while walking on the beach) I happened to look up and see an old clock up at the top of the stairs by the pier. I have walked this beach maybe a hundred times since I moved here, and I swear I have never seen that clock before. And it struck me that maybe that's how love sometimes find us -- walking along a familiar route and looking up at the right time in the right place and there is it. That clock has been there for years, much longer than I have been in town. It didn't move, it didn't call out. I just looked up and there it was and I don't know how I missed it before.

For me the next obvious question has to be, "so why did I look up? Why that day?" Or possibly the more important question "how do I know when it's time to look up?" I have no idea what the answers to those questions are. But it's three more months until the Sun Run. Plenty of time for many more walks on the beach.

white Jesus

It has always bothered me that Jesus in the Sunday school pictures is white. Did they miss the part where it says he was born a Hebrew? Somehow I doubt he had blue eyes. There is a 10 000 Villages store not far from here that sells all manner of nativiy sceens -- African Jesus, Indian Jesus, Latin Jesus, even a curiously moving faceless Jesus. They're fantastic. Today I came across a site presenting "The Life of Jesus Christ: An African Interpretation by the Mafa People in Cameroun" and once again I'm taken by the beauty of a completely different view of a very old story. Who's to say that a black Jesus tending the sheep on the serengeti is any less valid than a white, blue eyed Jesus with little white children gathered at his feet?

They're amazing paintings. See for yourself:
http://www.socialtheology.com/art.asp

I wonder if Jesus sees us in colour when He looks at us? Maybe all He sees is what we were supposed to be, what we are promised we will become again -- a reflection of Himself, made in His own image.

not the moon we walked on

A while ago I was reading an interview with Buzz Aldrin and the reporter asked him, when you look at the moon, do you see it differently now because you've been up there? Aldrin's response was "it's the moon we went to, but not the moon we walked on." That's exactly how I feel sitting here in my parents' house, a place I haven't set foot in in four years. I get along great with my parents, and we've seen each other a lot in the past years, I just haven't been this far east.

I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about being in this house. As you can imagine, a lot has happened in four years, and I wondered if I was going to find the ghost of the person I used to be walking around this house. Fortunately, like Buzz Aldrin I find that you can revisit a place, but you cannot go back to it in the time you knew before. My four years ago self is not here. There are parts of her that I carry around in my heart -- both scars and treasured memories. There are parts of her that have grown up with me, there are parts of her that I've out grown. But she is not here, I am here.

The house is familiar enough to "feel like coming home" but different enough that I don't feel like I've just done the Time Warp (it's just a jump to the left :) The very best parts are still here -- my parents laughing, music from the piano wafting through the rooms like the best kind of baking smells. The kettle is in almost perpetual motion. There are cats. They say that things get smaller with age, but the cats have definitely gotten larger. I think they may be mutant dogs, or small elephants. They have just assumed that I'm part of the furniture. As I type one of them is sprawled across my lap, chin lazily resting on arm.

What hasn't changed at all it that I still belong here. And that is the very best part of coming home.

Merry Christmas. My the ones you love best be close to your heart tonight, even if you don't have them in your arms.