What I’m Blogging

It’s the first of May. A time for Labour marches, Communist nostalgia, and dancing around phallic germanic poles festooned with flowers and ribbons. Those of us with a religious bent will be dusting off our Virgin Mary holy cards, while the rest of us may just listen to the Beatles Let it Be. In the United States, it’s Loyalty Day, but so far as I know, this isn’t obligatory… yet.

Whatever your pleasure, we in the northern hemisphere can all rejoice that the freaking snow is gone, and that, above all, is something to give thanks for.

I spent a year at work this March. Sure it wasn’t a linear temporal year, but somewhere in the vast universe of reality and the rest, I aged at twelve times the rate of normal. The “Bug Hunt” from the 4^Th was the catalyst for this cycle of aging, how the company and I reacted was the cause of my disappearance from the face of the earth. Objects moving faster than time do not appear in the visual spectrum, nor can they be heard. In a time warp, no one can hear you scream.

PCs were scanned; networks secured; nasty bugs terminated with extreme prejudice. It’s nice and pristine now, at least until the clever north wind blows in the next disgruntled hacker bent on mayhem.

Presently, it appears that time and I are back in sync, but technology and work stand ever ready to tear a rip in time again. The question this time is how will I react to it?

I‘ve been meme’d. Tammi wants me to take out a contract on myself. My first thought was to invite myself to dinner, and during the conversation I’d excuse myself and go to the bathroom. There I would retrieve a cleverly hidden a revolver, placed by me earlier… imagine the surprise on my face when I returned to the table with that! It would be a good clean hit, and I’d never be expecting it. It worked in The Godfather.

…a contract of a less terminal sort…

Then I thought, maybe it’s not that kind of contract….

On closer inspection, it seems to be a contract of a less terminal sort. It seems to be a contract of putting your life’s “ducks in a row” so to speak. Less exciting than a gangland hit for sure, but certainly less messy. OK here goes.

If you get this far… consider yourself tagged to do the same

Who Wakes You Up in the Morning?

The bond between humans and dogs goes back tens of thousands of years (assuming that your religion doesn’t tell you that 10,000 years of human existance is reight out too lunch, but humour me). Dogs are our companions, they are are helpers in the hunt and in the collection of stray farm animals such as sheep. They guard us. They Love us unconditionally.

In modern times, Humans have discovered a new use for the canine wonder. Dogs are extremely regimented in their day, and this can be harnassed to replace the need for an alarm clock. Clocks have to be set, the mechanical kind have to be wound up. A Dog on the other hand will be in your face each and every day at the same time, regardless of whether or not daylight savings is in effect with one thing on their brilliantly focused canine mind… “Get up. I have to pee and where’s my biscuit?”

Anyone notice that the rate of blog publishing is directly proportional to the amount of time not invested in indentured servitude?Well it’s been noticeable to me. Life at Gigantic Concrete continues its merry path of “chaos and consumption”; time is never under control and there is never enough of it.

I have my team spread thin to the far corners of the empire on various and sundry tasks. I’m trying to hold down the fort, answer service calls, plan several varied and complex projects, try and fit in interviews for additional contract help, and keep the stream of electrons flowing constantly so that the flow of rock never ceases… Can you say stressed?

The Christmas lull is over, the new year of projects and mayhem has washed ashore like a tsunami of tasks and expectations, and me without a life raft or a rubber ducky.

Today is New Year’s Eve. Tonight there will be parties all across the country in celebration of the coming new year, and at the stroke of midnight, millions of people will sing “Auld Lang Syne.” The lyrics to the song were first written down by the poet Robert Burns, but the song actually comes from Scottish oral tradition. The Scottish title can be translated to mean “old long ago” or “time long past” or simply “the good old days.”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote, “The year is going, let him go; ring out the false, ring in the true.”

Sunday morning. Presumably a morning of rest and relaxation. As usual, presumptions are wrong. This Sunday morning is the dreaded time of change, or more accurately, it is time to change time itself.

…what have the Romans ever done for us?…

In my house we are in the midst of an anomaly in time. I am trapped between time zones. In years gone past it was the job of the first to wake to change the clocks to the arbitrarily assigned time. Now with the advent of Network Time Protocol, computers, and clever algorithms, some clocks, change themselves. All my laptops changed. One old PC which I keep for sentimental reasons did not, but it sill thinks the date is 1985 so it’s not much of a bother. The TV, VCR, and DVD all made the transition. The microwave and the wall clocks were left behind. I’m on temporal clean up detail to gather the stray time pieces and return them to the flock.

It’s bad enough that there are different timezones and I have to calculate what time it is in London when I want to call the Queen. We could have just stopped with that nonsense, but no! Ben Franklin has to throw daylight savings time into the mix, and twice a year we have to go through this mess. My wife has a better solution - one time to rule them all. That’s it. It would be the same time everywhere. No zones. No daylight savings. It’s off the wall, people would have to get rid of their attachment to the old Roman division of the day into 2 halves of 12 hours. But honestly, what have the Romans ever done for us?

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee…

…pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness…

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full.

They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes”.

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things-your God, your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions — things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job,your house, and your car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff.”

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand”.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”

Please share this with someone you care about.

Received by e-mail. Author unknown

It is Thanksgiving. Well Thanksgiving with a twist of red maple leaves. Across the Dominion today families will be gathering, turkeys we’ll be savouring, and thanks and praise we will be offering for all we have been given this year. A day of thanks before we descend into the deep freeze of a Canadian winter. I’m not a religious man, but a little thanks and praise before that, might make for a milder time of it.

…a day of general Thanksgiving to Almighty God…

Things I’m thankful for:

• The love of my life
• My kids
• A home with dogs
• Family and Friends

Celebrating a Canadian Thanksgiving

The first Canadian Thanksgiving was celebrated on April 15, 1872 in thanks for the recovery of the future King Edward VII from a serious illness. The next Thanksgiving didn’t occur until 1879 when it was celebrated on a Thursday in November.

Much like the United States, Canada seemed to have a difficult time deciding when a day of Thanksgiving should occur. From 1879 to 1898 it was celebrated on a Thursday in November; from 1899 to 1907 on a Thursday in October (except in 1901 and 1904 when it was celebrated on a Thursday in November); from 1908 to 1921 on a Monday in October; and between 1922 and 1930 the Armistice Day Act declared that Thanksgiving would be celebrated on Armistice Day, the Monday of November 11. In 1931 the Act was amended and the old practice of Parliament declaring a day of Thanksgiving each year was resumed.

On January 31, 1957 Parliament issued a proclamation to fix permanently the second Monday in October as “a day of general Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed.”

Well here we are again. It has been a year and seven days (give or take) since I last took this test, and in that time a lot has changed. I’ve got a new job, I’ve got a….. err… OK, I’ve got a new job. I suppose more things have stayed the same.

Pre-Hyptnotized Peter

What Office Space character are you?
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The one problem with reading your old blog a year after the fact is that you have the empirical evidenvce before you. Some things have changed, but the rut remains the same. Take a look at the old blog and see.

Better yet, watch the movie;

and you will see what I mean

Saturdays are supposed to be for getting some things done around the house. Saturdays are supposed to be about cranking up that good old Protestant work ethic into full gear. There are lawns to cut, leaves to rake, cars to wash, and a host of other activities that are better suited to a TV ad for a huge corporate hardware chain store. In Canada it’s Canadian Tire…. your mileage may differ.

…I just don’t want to do anything…

My problem, apart from being a Protestant in protest and thus having no work ethic to cling to, is that I just don’t want to do anything. Nothing, nada, bupkiss. Like the gas tanks of North America after a gulf coast hurricane, I’m running on empty.

I should at least get dressed. Pajamas in the middle of the afternoon is not a very good way to inspire activity. The most complex thing I’ve done so far is brew coffee, and make lunch for the kids.

I don’t want to. I know in my heart that I should be all “once more into the breach”, but what I really want is a snooze button on life…. just 5 more minutes of not having to do anything. Really. Just 5 more minutes.

All too familiar. I’ve been through these kinds of things before. I know very well the ins and outs of fortunes and their reversals. I lived as a dot com contractor during the crash that coincided with 911. That was a reversal of fortune on a very personal level resulting in a thing we like to call receivership. But this one was not like that.

…one of the outside indentured servants…

Today’s reversal of fortune was, for me, a more fortunate event. Today I got to be one of the outside indentured servants. Today I got to drive my car through the back roads of Central Ontario. The trees, rushing to beat the first official day of fall two days hence, display their autumnal colours boldly. Fall comes early in the north. Still warm enough to to leave the jacket at home, but late enough in the solar year for nature to dawn her multicoloured pajamas before winter’s sleep.

Today by fluke of corporate requirements I got the gift of time to be. To be out. To be free. To be engaged, even for a small moment of time, with the changing world around me. It’s a definite change of fortune, and I’m more fortunate for it.