I drew this man/boy a few years ago. I don’t know who it’s supposed to be but it really expresses my artistic style.
I call it ’Unknown Man’.
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Feb » | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |
| 29 | 30 | 31 | ||||
Archive for January, 2007
What the…?
I was just watching the Canadian news and heard a story about the Canadian Navy. Apparently there is some sort of worldwide Navy get-together off the east coast of Canada. They’ll do maneuvers and cheer each other on and basically have a grand old time.
Unfortunately, one country won’t be there. Guess who? That’s right, Canada! We are the hosts of an event we cannot attend. And why can’t we attend? Because our Navy says they don’t have the money to buy the gas! How humiliating is that?
According to various ‘newsheads’ the Navy is just saying that to embarrass our government into giving them more money – money that they already have in abundance. Who knows?
Cost of participating in the Navy games = $3 million
Cost of saving face = priceless.
To Blush or Not to Blush
I’ve developed a terrible affliction. In the last 2 months I have begun blushing at the drop of a hat (and NO it’s not a menopausal hotflash thank you). I don’t feel embarrassed or nervous but all of sudden my cheeks will turn bright red. It’s like somebody else is in charge of the ship. I can’t control it. And as soon as I know I’m blushing (because my face feels hot) I DO get embarrassed and then I blush more.
It’s a mystery to me why this is happening but I don’t see it getting any better any time soon. The only saving grace is that someone at work saw it and said “aw you’re blushing, that’s so cute”. So while it may not be great for the career at least my co-workers think it’s cute.
Little White Feather
An Ode to a Little White Feather
It’s gone through the wash
So it’s pure
But shaken
Bedraggled and bent
From the journey
It’s taken.
Scrambled Ego
I’m having a tough time figuring out how to do stuff in this blog. I’m a blogging virgin as it were and while the instructions seem idiot-proof when I read them, they aren’t so much when I actually try to perform the action.
I blame the site administrators. Hahahahahaha. Actually I don’t. It’s just going to take some time to figure out how to insert a widget into my sidebar.
I’ve made progress in that I now actually know what a widget and a sidebar are.
Heaven forfend that I become one of those dreaded blog-neglectors or BN’s as I think of them. People who rarely, if ever, update their blogs. Sometimes I see blogs like that and I wonder what happened to that person. Did they lose interest? Join the French Foreign Legion? Perhaps they got hit by a truck and had no family to take down the blog, or at least to post an RIP.
It reminds me of the one or two times I’ve lost contact with an internet acquaintance. All of a sudden they were gone without an explanation and I was left wondering what was that all about?
But I guess it just goes to show that the internet mirrors life…
Deckerd
This is a drawing I made of my old cat, Deckerd. He died January 19th, 2005. I still think of him at times, especially in January. Apparently he was named after a character in Blade Runner by his previous owner. I had him for 10 years. He lived a good life.
A Canadian Living in an American’s Body
I had a funny thought as I drove home from work yesterday. I was thinking about my last blog entry (ice car) and I was looking at the snow blowing into my headlights and I started to laugh. My brother, you see, who lives in California but who was born in Canada says that Canadians always talk about the weather. So it struck me as funny that my very second blog entry ever (and my third) was the result of the weather.
Someone recently asked me if I feel like I am more of an American or more of a Canadian. Ultimately I’d have to say that I feel like more of a Canadian. For although I have lived fully one-third of my life in the US, I always felt like I was an outsider. Perhaps that was due to the fact that I made very few friends the second time I was there. But that’s another story. I do feel the ‘mark’ of my American birthright at all times but it doesn’t mitigate the years I spent growing up in Canada. Ultimately I’d have to say it’s nice being able to live and work in both great countries without hassle.
If I do move back to the US it will be to a state that has no snow, and I’ll try not to mention the weather, eh.
Ice Car
2 Days ago I went down to my car in the morning to drive to work. Much to my suprize I discovered that my car was encased in a block of ice. After 20 minutes of chipping, scraping, swearing, and generally carrying-on I was able to clear away enough of it to actually drive. Of course I was late for work (and in being late I tried to run across the parking lot to the front doors – across the ice – big mistake).
Yesterday I went down to the car in the morning and discovered the same thing. However, I had awakened early enough so as to attack the ice block at my leisure. Mother Nature wasn’t going down without a fight though. Apparently she thought it would be amusing to freeze my doors shut. I ended up crawling through the hatch to get to the driver’s seat so I could unlock the door (which is of course the precise moment my neighbour chose to sidle up to his own vehicle).
This morning was different. This morning a lovely blanket of snow greeted me as I approached my car. Snow is a much simpler proposition. Or so I thought until I scraped it away and discovered the ice underneath. It was at this point that I asked myself why I had moved back to Canada. A question I am still pondering…
In the Beginning….
Just a dreary Saturday with nothing to do but tell the world I’m here. Who I am remains to be discovered both from within and without.
A poem pops to mind:
There was a time we’d both agree,
That I was you, and you were me.
What has happened to us two,
Now I am me and you are you?
But am I me?
