Every few weeks, I check to see what my favorite authors are up to. Terry Goodkind's novel is coming out on Nov. 13th, Neil Gaiman has made Beowulf, etc. And lastly, I almost always come to Robert Jordan. I've been following his blog. For those who don't know Robert Jordan has been writing one of the most epic fantasy fiction series in our time, The Wheel of Time. He has also been battling a blood disease since 2005. I learned today that he died on the 16th of this month.
I started to read Robert Jordan (aka, James "Jim" Rigney) when I was in grade 9. I would have been 15. I was so enraptured by his writing, it inspired me to write some of my own stuff. He has been a major muse to me; you can find on the right a link to a website where I started writing my own fan fiction with some of the people that have also come to know and love his work.
He was a Dragon in the truest sense, noble, larger than life and ferocious figure on the literary horizon. I wish my deepest condolences to his family. There is a space in my head and my heart that those books have filled, and now, it will never be complete.
Another blogger has written more eloquently how I feel about it:
"There was sadness, of course, and shock, because we had just received good news in the previous blog entry, but there was also … what? Disappointment? It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t heartsick at the thought that RJ wouldn’t be finishing the final volume in The Wheel of Time. Most of you I’m sure, felt it too. Just as he was honest with us until the end, so I will be honest here. I think we’re all sad, and at least a tiny bit frustrated, by not having A Memory of Light completed in the way we wanted and hoped for.
Before you think poorly of me, hear me out. Obviously, we can’t blame RJ for that. To do so is to show a lack of understanding of the way he worked and the way he fought this disease. Amyloidosis is a brutal disease and nobody could fight as hard as Jim Rigney. His blog is a testament to his fight and his dedication. He proved to us, right here, that he was Aiel to the core: “Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day.” I don’t think there could be a stronger statement that defined RJ’s fight with the disease. When I say I was frustrated, it lasted only a fraction a second. It is, in part, our ability to overcome our negative emotions that makes us human to begin with. I took that frustration and fed it to the flame, and let the void surround me."
Amen to that.
There is a Room Upstairs, where a man with a great bushy beard and wide brimmed hat, and a twinkle in his eye, tells a long, rip-roaring yarn. He tells it, pipe in hand, next to a crackling fire, to other bards, who nod and learn forward with the hearing of the tale. He tells it in the company of Lewis, and Tolkien, and Homer.
9/30/2007
9/28/2007
Faux Pho
perhaps the best midnight snack evAR. Fun to say to: fo-fo.
-One package of ramen, including beef stock and seasoning oils
-2 cap fulls of lemon juice
-1 cap full of soy sauce
-chili pepper flakes (3 dashes for me, adjust to personal preference accordingly)
-chili sauce (we're really going for the saté effect here)
-roast beef (I use sliced deli meats)
-veggies you prefer (I used bok choi that was in the fridge)
-hot water
Perfect for starving university students studying way past when they should go to bed. Organic Chem = the Evil. Anyone care for a 2-methyl-1,4-pentadiene? No? Neither do I. Learning me some nomenclature good though...
Look Out! I see a substantive post coming!!
-One package of ramen, including beef stock and seasoning oils
-2 cap fulls of lemon juice
-1 cap full of soy sauce
-chili pepper flakes (3 dashes for me, adjust to personal preference accordingly)
-chili sauce (we're really going for the saté effect here)
-roast beef (I use sliced deli meats)
-veggies you prefer (I used bok choi that was in the fridge)
-hot water
Perfect for starving university students studying way past when they should go to bed. Organic Chem = the Evil. Anyone care for a 2-methyl-1,4-pentadiene? No? Neither do I. Learning me some nomenclature good though...
Look Out! I see a substantive post coming!!
9/19/2007
Soapbox: The Child and the System
If there is one proof for me that the fundamental nature of humankind is broken, or at the very least bent in incredibly wrong directions, I only have to look as far as my workplace. I have the opportunity to work with our less fortunate children in our society, in our city of Calgary. I work at a grouphome with teens that is part of the child welfare system. The basic way I understand the child welfare system to work in Calgary is thus. The provincial government gives grants to a privatized not-for-profit groups to house children that need the care of the state. The way this is organized is that the health region (or an analogous equivalent), in the manifestation of the Rockyview Child and Family Services hands out contracts to these grouphomes based on demand (used in units of beds) for spaces for these kids. The grouphome system runs parallel to the foster care system, it's what houses kids when they are waiting for a family. Its where they go when that foster situation breaks down.
That's how the system's mechanics basically works. It's interesting though, I've worked in the system, more specifically with the company I'm employed by, for the past three years. In some ways the company feels much more like a family or, vaguely even of a church. Someone calls looking for relief, and you figure out whether your schedule can fit it in to help out the grouphome.
My beef isn't with the company directly, but more so with the government and primarily with the reason that these kids are in the system.
What's been incredibly frightening to learn over my limited years as a youth worker, and a young one at that, is the real depths of depravity that human nature sinks to. I have heard stories and witness things and read files of kids that would make Quentin Taratino sick to his stomach. The things that people are capable of is unimaginable. One might say, that the abuse of people say in slavery in the US before emancipation was a long time ago and a product of the culture of the time, of the attitude of colonialism, etc., and things like that don't happen today in our society. Or that CSI depicts things that happen down there in Las Vegas, and it's just tv. No. It's not. It's happening now. It's happening as we speak. Maybe not murder, but certainly neglect. Sexual abuse. Physical abuse. Sexual slavery. Starvation. These are things that don't just happen in Africa, but down the block! These are things that don't just happen in the bad part of town, but maybe around the corner! There are monsters in our world and they live down the street. Hell doesn't take dying to experience.
And you know what? It makes me bleeding angry. Boondock Saints angry. I am afraid of what I would be capable if I were put in the same room as the monsters that devastated the children I work with. A feeling of helpless overcomes many people who work in the field. Burnout is common. Over the last year and half of working relief shifts at the grouphome (and a summer's worth of overnights) I've worked with 4 supervisors. The turnover rate of staff doesn't help the kids of course. Of all the industries in the world, this is one of the few that works to negate itself.
So, as workers, we are left with the broken children that the world gives us. I think about the primetime dramas, and our cultures fascination with flawed characters, with fallen men and women, and I think, they have nothing on the kids I've worked with. My first shift at a grouphome, I was bitten. For keeping away a t.v. remote from a kid. I had to do a write up and witness statement for the police and everything. I've seen the breakdown of a family I worked with, seen a kid abuse his mother, had a couple of death threats leveled against me, had things thrown at me, been shoved around, and I've seen a cop forcibly take down a kid. I'm 22. And those are just a few of the stories I've got in my book.
When it doesn't make me angry it makes me sad, tired and lonely. I think of the kids I've worked with who have FAS, who've been made the way they are before they even had the semblance of a choice. I think of the kids who've collected multiple STDs. I think of teen mothers trying to be a teen and a mom at the same time. It's a grey tableau.
And yet there is hope. Not much, and it's hard to see sometimes. And it comes out in ways not always expected. A kid will say sorry to you for beaking off, getting angry and breaking something. Or you go out on a outing and for a brief moment you forget that these are kids with behavioral issues, with no parents worth speaking of, or have drug addictions, or neurological problems, but instead just kids having fun. And most precious of all, you'll hear back from kid who's grown up and out of the program and is trying to get into college, and trying to make life work, despite the shitty hand of cards life dealt them.
And sometimes there's just a little bit of the divine in it. Getting to tuck in a kid at night. You are their father in that place. Teaching a kid to throw a football. You are a older brother in that place. Giving them a hug when they hurt. You are a friend, a mentor in that place. You get to be Jesus with skin on.
THESE kids are what Jesus talks about . They are our "least of these."
Do something about it.
That's how the system's mechanics basically works. It's interesting though, I've worked in the system, more specifically with the company I'm employed by, for the past three years. In some ways the company feels much more like a family or, vaguely even of a church. Someone calls looking for relief, and you figure out whether your schedule can fit it in to help out the grouphome.
My beef isn't with the company directly, but more so with the government and primarily with the reason that these kids are in the system.
What's been incredibly frightening to learn over my limited years as a youth worker, and a young one at that, is the real depths of depravity that human nature sinks to. I have heard stories and witness things and read files of kids that would make Quentin Taratino sick to his stomach. The things that people are capable of is unimaginable. One might say, that the abuse of people say in slavery in the US before emancipation was a long time ago and a product of the culture of the time, of the attitude of colonialism, etc., and things like that don't happen today in our society. Or that CSI depicts things that happen down there in Las Vegas, and it's just tv. No. It's not. It's happening now. It's happening as we speak. Maybe not murder, but certainly neglect. Sexual abuse. Physical abuse. Sexual slavery. Starvation. These are things that don't just happen in Africa, but down the block! These are things that don't just happen in the bad part of town, but maybe around the corner! There are monsters in our world and they live down the street. Hell doesn't take dying to experience.
And you know what? It makes me bleeding angry. Boondock Saints angry. I am afraid of what I would be capable if I were put in the same room as the monsters that devastated the children I work with. A feeling of helpless overcomes many people who work in the field. Burnout is common. Over the last year and half of working relief shifts at the grouphome (and a summer's worth of overnights) I've worked with 4 supervisors. The turnover rate of staff doesn't help the kids of course. Of all the industries in the world, this is one of the few that works to negate itself.
So, as workers, we are left with the broken children that the world gives us. I think about the primetime dramas, and our cultures fascination with flawed characters, with fallen men and women, and I think, they have nothing on the kids I've worked with. My first shift at a grouphome, I was bitten. For keeping away a t.v. remote from a kid. I had to do a write up and witness statement for the police and everything. I've seen the breakdown of a family I worked with, seen a kid abuse his mother, had a couple of death threats leveled against me, had things thrown at me, been shoved around, and I've seen a cop forcibly take down a kid. I'm 22. And those are just a few of the stories I've got in my book.
When it doesn't make me angry it makes me sad, tired and lonely. I think of the kids I've worked with who have FAS, who've been made the way they are before they even had the semblance of a choice. I think of the kids who've collected multiple STDs. I think of teen mothers trying to be a teen and a mom at the same time. It's a grey tableau.
And yet there is hope. Not much, and it's hard to see sometimes. And it comes out in ways not always expected. A kid will say sorry to you for beaking off, getting angry and breaking something. Or you go out on a outing and for a brief moment you forget that these are kids with behavioral issues, with no parents worth speaking of, or have drug addictions, or neurological problems, but instead just kids having fun. And most precious of all, you'll hear back from kid who's grown up and out of the program and is trying to get into college, and trying to make life work, despite the shitty hand of cards life dealt them.
And sometimes there's just a little bit of the divine in it. Getting to tuck in a kid at night. You are their father in that place. Teaching a kid to throw a football. You are a older brother in that place. Giving them a hug when they hurt. You are a friend, a mentor in that place. You get to be Jesus with skin on.
THESE kids are what Jesus talks about . They are our "least of these."
Do something about it.
9/13/2007
Summer Doldrums
A long while ago, I posted back in June. And now I'm posting in September. Yup. Long time. I'm not entirely sure if I want to make apologies, but maybe an explanation would suffice. I started off my summer with high expectations of writing regularly, but as I've been finding over the last year and a half, my muse has escaped me.
My summer job was overnights at a grouphome for teens in the child welfare system. It was right up my alley in terms of the work I've done there before (as a relief staff), and in general. I have a passion for working with youth, and it's something that hasn't changed since I resolved to be a camp counselor when I was 12.
However, working a overnight job has some attributes worth mentioning: one in particular: It sucks the soul out of you. You want to distract yourself as much as you can to A) stay awake B) do something with the large amount of disposable time you have to yourself. I barely lifted a finger to write during the whole summer. Earlier this year, I got back into World of Warcraft which solved both A and B for me tidily. I brought my laptop to work and WoW'd it up. Playing that game the way I did took a lot of creative energy out of me. Rather, instead of drawing from that pool, it just replaced it.
The summer was just something to get through to get to the here and now. It was a time to pass by, in eager expectation of the fall. I did my recovery work, showed up at the right places and the right times, but my heart was here, waiting for what I am doing now.
There's a cafe on the top floor of the MacEwan Student Centre at the UoC, it's called The Loft. It's packed cheek and jowl with chairs and tables, and correspondingly with students. It has sweet natural lighting. One can people watch. And of course, coffee... my ambrosia. I write this as I listen to Massive Attack on my headphones.
It's my third full year of university, my second year of science. My degree is complicated to explain, but suffice to say, I'm taking biology. Being second year means I face the great beast that is organic chemistry. In the position I am now, in terms of my grades and my goals, this year is my do or die year. I either finish this year with a GPA of 3.5 or greater, or I'm gonna have to do some serious reevaluating. Which means I need to do good on Organic Chem. Which means a A- or better. Which means that I gotta kick everyone else's ass in class and be in the top 5th percentile, because Organic Chem is that stupid Hard.
But I'm loving it. Most of it. I'm actually working on my life. I'm not placeholding, or playing to another person's tune. I'm not letting life pass me by. There's a thing in the pit of my stomach holding me together; a sense of agency.
My summer job was overnights at a grouphome for teens in the child welfare system. It was right up my alley in terms of the work I've done there before (as a relief staff), and in general. I have a passion for working with youth, and it's something that hasn't changed since I resolved to be a camp counselor when I was 12.
However, working a overnight job has some attributes worth mentioning: one in particular: It sucks the soul out of you. You want to distract yourself as much as you can to A) stay awake B) do something with the large amount of disposable time you have to yourself. I barely lifted a finger to write during the whole summer. Earlier this year, I got back into World of Warcraft which solved both A and B for me tidily. I brought my laptop to work and WoW'd it up. Playing that game the way I did took a lot of creative energy out of me. Rather, instead of drawing from that pool, it just replaced it.
The summer was just something to get through to get to the here and now. It was a time to pass by, in eager expectation of the fall. I did my recovery work, showed up at the right places and the right times, but my heart was here, waiting for what I am doing now.
There's a cafe on the top floor of the MacEwan Student Centre at the UoC, it's called The Loft. It's packed cheek and jowl with chairs and tables, and correspondingly with students. It has sweet natural lighting. One can people watch. And of course, coffee... my ambrosia. I write this as I listen to Massive Attack on my headphones.
It's my third full year of university, my second year of science. My degree is complicated to explain, but suffice to say, I'm taking biology. Being second year means I face the great beast that is organic chemistry. In the position I am now, in terms of my grades and my goals, this year is my do or die year. I either finish this year with a GPA of 3.5 or greater, or I'm gonna have to do some serious reevaluating. Which means I need to do good on Organic Chem. Which means a A- or better. Which means that I gotta kick everyone else's ass in class and be in the top 5th percentile, because Organic Chem is that stupid Hard.
But I'm loving it. Most of it. I'm actually working on my life. I'm not placeholding, or playing to another person's tune. I'm not letting life pass me by. There's a thing in the pit of my stomach holding me together; a sense of agency.
6/22/2007
A Weekend in Montreal
It was a bit hare-brained. I'd promised Jon, my friend, about five years ago that I'd come visit him sometime in Montreal. The years and summers passed, and I'd always find myself short of cash. Enter this year: a nice fat tax rebate check from the government as well as Jon's last year in the land of the Quebecois (sp?). My utter lack of French not cowing me, I decided it was do or die.
Thus, I blitzed through Montreal in a weekend. And to be honest, I wish we had at least two weeks. We walked. Walked. Walked some more. And ate all the Montreal specialties. That was the highlight of the trip, eating the 85% meat (montreal smoked, of course) sandwich, as seen below. Honest to goodness poutine, and of course, the bagel.
More meat than sandwich
The heartstopper poutine
The heart stopping.
Check out the outside staircases. Too cool.
The habitat built as part of the '67 World Fair
McGill Uni Buildings. I wish UoC actually had cool buildings like these.
That quote is by the toast guy. The one who poked around in brains and made people smell toast. That dude.
Better view of McGill buildings.
Wicked view of Montreal from Mont Royal.
St. Jo's Oratory
Thus, I blitzed through Montreal in a weekend. And to be honest, I wish we had at least two weeks. We walked. Walked. Walked some more. And ate all the Montreal specialties. That was the highlight of the trip, eating the 85% meat (montreal smoked, of course) sandwich, as seen below. Honest to goodness poutine, and of course, the bagel.
More meat than sandwich
The heartstopper poutine
The heart stopping.The city truly reminded me of Berlin, in its grey 18th century architecture. The house are radically different than in the west, in which subdivisions mar the landscape. And everybody drives like they think they're in the indy 500. Coincedentally, the indy 500 was in town for the week.
Check out the outside staircases. Too cool.
The habitat built as part of the '67 World Fair
McGill Uni Buildings. I wish UoC actually had cool buildings like these.
That quote is by the toast guy. The one who poked around in brains and made people smell toast. That dude.
Better view of McGill buildings.
Wicked view of Montreal from Mont Royal.
St. Jo's OratoryAll in all, it was too damn quick for me to take it all in without a sense of hazy unreality. That and my quad's still hurt from the walking. Jon's moving to Calgary, so I can get him back from the torture he put me through. Haha.
Peace
Peace
6/21/2007
Geek Meets Running
So, I found myself strangely excited when I walked into the Running Room. I'm a geek, and usually that means that any kind of exercise is usually exclaimed with a certain tone of incredulity and faint contempt. But. I've been trying to get into shape, so for a birthday gift to myself, I bought an iPod nano (black, 8gig). I delighted in the new ability to download podcasts, make my music mobile and so forth. But the main reason is that I stumbled across the Nike Experience website a while ago while at the online Apple store.
Now this is a bit of a shameless plug for both, but I was immediately entranced by the integration of two technologies: music + smart running shoes. I got the Nike + plugin, and suddenly I could track my runs, play muzak and actually train. I mean, the website has a wicked tracking system of how your run went, your pace, time, distance, caloric burn and so forth. On top of that, it has a googlemaps plugin that allows people to post their routes when they run. Wicked.
The goal for me is to get down to a 5min/km pace. I'm at 6'10"/km pace at the moment. That 5min/km is the minimum requirement (12 min to do 2.4km) to get into the reserves. Which means I have some work to do.
But, I started my season with a 6'33" pace. I'm down 20seconds already.
Aight. Later on in the week, when Telus finally decides to upload my pictures from my phone, I'll post pics and the downlow about my trip to Montreal.
laters.
Now this is a bit of a shameless plug for both, but I was immediately entranced by the integration of two technologies: music + smart running shoes. I got the Nike + plugin, and suddenly I could track my runs, play muzak and actually train. I mean, the website has a wicked tracking system of how your run went, your pace, time, distance, caloric burn and so forth. On top of that, it has a googlemaps plugin that allows people to post their routes when they run. Wicked.
The goal for me is to get down to a 5min/km pace. I'm at 6'10"/km pace at the moment. That 5min/km is the minimum requirement (12 min to do 2.4km) to get into the reserves. Which means I have some work to do.
But, I started my season with a 6'33" pace. I'm down 20seconds already.
Aight. Later on in the week, when Telus finally decides to upload my pictures from my phone, I'll post pics and the downlow about my trip to Montreal.
laters.
6/05/2007
Ahnold, move over!
If you look me up in the dictionary you would find:
Public Service Announcement: It is now time for phil to go to bed... hasta la vista, baby.
Philip Bird -- [noun]: A real life terminator 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Public Service Announcement: It is now time for phil to go to bed... hasta la vista, baby.
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