Northern Sibling

For the record, I have one little brother and one little sister. The sister is chasing her calling in theatre in Halifax, while my brother headed north.

My little brother is hiding up in the great white north. He is living in Yellowknife, North West Territories and working in one of the remote mines. As I have never been to Yellowknife, I will post a couple pictures of the town for your enjoyment. The thriving downtown of yellowknife is first shown. Second, a large house that is an example of what Yellowknife's rich people live in. Lastly, part of the Giant Mine's infrastructure is shown overlooking Great Slave Lake.

Small Triumph

As I gaze over my virtual desk top, organizing things into something resembling order, I glance over at my list. I am done!! I have been drowning in paperwork due to my own laziness for the last three days. But I am now officially caught up. However, my ecological footprint has doubled in size due to my paper and electron output. Ah, the cost of business.

Northern Ontario

There are some differences between Northern Ontario and Southern Ontario (I use caps, as Northern Ontario will be its own province someday :)). Today, I will explain one or two of them.

There are the obvious linguistic differences. The obvious differences are sledding/sliding, cottage/camp and snowmobile/snow machine. And I tend to use the southern versions of these words, due to the fact that I spent a large part of my childhood in residual (north western Toronto). But quite apart from the vocabulary, northerners are less guarded in the speech. Where as city born southerners are generally hipper yet closed, while the rural southerners tend to consider their speech carefully. I have no idea why this is, but it is true. As someone who went to university in the south, I was told that I had a Northern Ontario accent. When I came home for Christmas, I had apparently developed a Southern Ontario accent.

Furthermore, there is a cultural wave washing up from the south. Of the shows are set in Ontario, how many of them are set in Northern Ontario? The same applies, though to a lesser extent, to print media and music. If one wants to find media from Northern Ontario, one really has to look. Though this may be largely due to the comparative populations of Northern and Southern Ontario, it still does piss people off.

However, these minor linguistic and cultural differences are not the major things that separate north from south. The major difference between Northern Ontario and Southern Ontario is the same as the difference between Canada and the United States. Now, I will not go off on a rant about the U.S. (but I could), but in general Canadians feel ignored and slighted by the Uncle Sam. There is a feeling of being looked down upon and an assumption that we will toe their line. The only time we seem to get noticed (either Canada, or Northern Ontario) is when we stand up and refuse to agree with what the larger community is saying. So we get ignored even more, and slapped with the whiner label.

And that is unfortunate. Because that means that neither community is listening.

Heat.

Man, today was hot. Like, up in the 25 degree range. Man, if it was not for the wind blowing over the wide open spaces on site, this would be truly unbearible. That, and my sweet air conditioned rented truck. And the air conditioned trailer. I pity the poor folks sweating it out in tropical Sudbury, or (god forbid) Toronto. Sometimes, spending time in the cool north is good.

Have fun...

More Stories?

Let me know if you would like me to post some more stories.

Thanks.

The Mountain With a Cave

Once upon a time, there was a Mountain. It was a lonely Mountain, jutting up out of a rolling plain. The peak was blue and marbled, with a brilliant white snowcap. No one had ever seen the top of the Mountain, as a gray cloud mat covered the peak for miles around. The Mountain could see all around herself, but all that was visible was the gleaming white tops of the clouds.

Then, the weather shifted. The rains came and tickled the feet of the Mountain. The snowcap receded and revealed a Cave, high above the clouds. This was a frightened Cave, and had made the weather cold so that the ice and snow would cover her. She was afraid of the world. But, still the Cave was curious. And so the weather warmed and the rains came. And all the Cave could see was the tops of the white fluffy clouds.

So, the Cave took a big breath and drew some of the clouds inside of her self. Suddenly, the world of white turned green as the fields and forests became visible. The flowers and animals were visible as bright spots of colour against the green background. As the Mountain looked around in horror, her entire world had shifted from one of endless white to a cacophony of colour pasted on a green background.

Fear shook the Mountain. The Cave got frightened. The weather got colder and the clouds rolled back. Once again, the snow and ice covered the Cave. Once the clouds had resumed their white hiding of the world below, the Mountain calmed herself. And the Mountain’s world became calm and serene again.

After some time had passed, the Mountain wanted to see the green and the flowers again. She tried to coax the Cave into action, but the Cave was scared. The Mountain’s reaction to the last time she saw the clouds had frightened the Cave very badly. The Cave did not want to inspire such fear. Gently, the Mountain coaxed the Cave to show the fields again. And the weather got warmer.

Soon, the Mountain gazed at the fields and forests in wonder. The vivid reds, yellows and blues of the flowers sharply contrasted with the lush greens of the grass and trees. The Cave was happy to bring such joy, though the clouds were not completely gone. And the Mountain reveled in the new details and colours.

And the Cave’s only regret was that she could not remove all the clouds.

Hey, Dawg.

I have not mentioned that I have acquired a new dawg. He is a red boarder collie and matches the current black boarder collie. Sadly, as I have been isolated up in the far north, I missed Loki coming home. And I also missed Merlin's (the first dawg of mine) reaction to Loki, which has, apparently, been very cute. The picture with this post has my lady, and both dawgs. Enjoy.

Two Evils

I am feeling a lot of anger today. Work is being super stressful, in spite of the beautiful weather that I am experiencing. I am currently thinking homicidal thoughts about two very specific people. One person deserves it and the other does not.

To begin, I will discuss the lesser of my two evils. The clients representative and site manager is a low tech, stamp collecting, long-winded story telling, lonely old man. Ordinarily, I could handle a person such as this. My patience with people is generally not too bad (while my patience with things… I will leave for another blog), but after dealing with this man for two months, my patience is nearing its limit. The computer the client gave him is slow and unwieldy. However, his lack of understanding of some basic computer functions makes it very difficult for me to work with him. If I send him an email with more than one attachment, he gets upset. This is because he cannot then forward the one important attachment from my email to his boss. The only way that he can forward attachments to other people is by forwarding the entire email. I did somewhat lose my temper with him today regarding that. I suggested that perhaps he should take a basic computer course. It might make his life easier. His response was “That’s not my job.” Yet, nowhere in my job description does it say Information Technologist. Still, I have difficulty condemning a person whose only crime is ignorance. Even if the ignorance is somewhat willful.

The greater evil is someone who did something very bad to my lady, when my lady was only a little girl. My lady has begun to remember these bad things slowly over the last three years or so. When she first told me she knew who it was who had done this to her, my reaction was immediate and visceral. My lady’s sister was there when the angry side of me envisioned, with crystal clarity, a wooden baseball bat with a railway spike driven through it. This was to be my weapon of vengeance. I have since gone through many other implements of destruction whenever the stress becomes too much for me to deal with. From axes, to picks, to an imitation katana of my brother’s, all have been tools in my mind to bring home the message that children should not be touched that way. I do not think I could ever plan to do anything to this man. However, if I ever meet him again, I do not know what I would do. I would hope I could keep my temper, but I do not know if I could. My current, slightly more rational, revenge fantasy, is to go into his workplace and ask, loudly, how he could do this to her. And then refuse to leave until the authorities were called. Again, I will not do this, but it is a thought that rolls into my head from time to time.

Unfortunately, stress causes anger in me. A t-shirt at a truck stop explained stress to be very well one time:

“Stress is the body’s confusion when the mind will not beat the shit out of someone who really deserves it.”

So, now I practice just letting everything go. It does not always work, but is works sometimes. I will find my peace, with my lady, in the lakes and the stars.

Executive Recruiting

I received a call from an executive recruiter. Apparently, engineers in northern Ontario are becoming sparse. (cue dramatic music) "Soon, I will receive more money. Mwahahaha." I just seems strange that anyone would be chasing me.

Separation Anxiety

I left my love behind yesterday. Do not get me wrong. I am not leaving her. I am again living in the rustic splendor of a small mining town. And I again left my woman behind. She is a good woman, strong (though she feels week), beautiful (though she feels large and ugly) and sensual (though she hides from her senses).

For you, my lady;

Though the greasy black pavement may separate us,
The blue sky and twinkling stars that you see
Are the same ones I gaze at.

I miss you...

Questing for the Good Life

In my eternal quest for optimism, I find myself often floating away in the wrong direction. That direction that lets one know that without a doubt, you yourself are the stupidest person in the known world. This state of mind follows me. It lingers in the background like a faint but persistant odour, like aftershave someone's mom bought. It waits for me to get sleepy or stressed out. Then, the current of my life yanks me towards the darker places. The the bits that remain shaded from the public eye. The slivers of yourself that will not listen to reason. Where do I go for balence?

Home Again, Home Again Jiggity-Jog…

I have arrived home on Thursday amid a flurry of pre-moving activity. If there is anything more stressful than moving yourself out, I have not found it. The stress is increased when you are living with someone else. It further increases when one has not been home for some time. It increases yet again when you realize you are live in a third story walk up apartment.

In short, I am not looking forward to this move. It will be a heavy, slow, frustrating affair. But, for any of you are wondering what friends are for, here is the simple reason. Next Saturday, my extended clan of friends and associates are gathering together. This gathering will move all our stuff from point A to point B. And all it will cost us is a case of beer and some pizza. The knowledge that my friends are so willing to assist my move for so little in return is very gratifying. So, remember to play nice with people. Some day, you may have to move too.

Programming.

I had not noticed the little "Edit Me" links on the right hand side of my blog. Thanks to the blogspot guys for making it so easy to change those links and for giving me my first chance to use html code. I am so very glad that the programming language I learned in university was FORTRAN. Stupid FORTRAN.

Later,

Goonius Maximus

ps, Does is seem strange to you that on a blog site, the spell check does not accept BLOG as a legitimate word?

Caught Between

In the madhouse that is life, how often do you get caught between? Between boss and client, between here and there, between friend and lover, between truth and that thing that is like truth, but is easier to speak. Yesterday, I was caught in that first crossfire. The client was calling for information and the bosses (yes, plural, but that will be a different rant) were in a meeting in Vancouver. Thus, I needed answers, but there was no one available to return my calls and emails. Being between is a helpless feeling, like being lost but without the same sense of purpose.

I have some experience with being caught between. My lady (a tall, beautiful, dark haired beauty), and I were together for a good many years prior to our marriage. Yet, while we were dating, we did not live in the same city for any considerable length of time. Both of us looked forward to the time when we could be together, in the same city. When we would not be anxiously awaiting the Thanksgiving weekend in November when we could be together. We were waiting for a time when we would not be between.

Why must so much of our lives be lived between? Like the last year of school, all you can think about is the end of the term. I try to take it as a lesson. When you are between is when you have a chance to think. There is an opportunity to look at your life’s direction and decide that you are on the right path. There is a sense of change in the air. Perhaps, my current state of between-ness could come to a close.
Until then, I remain between.

Its gray today.

I gaze out my window, looking at the clouds. The occasional light sprinkle of rain is visible in the puddles surrounding the site trailer. Time drifts slowly by without care or desire. As the clouds float higher, a sense of hope fills me. Perhaps, tomorrow, the sun will show its face. Perhaps, tomorrow, the aura of gray that surrounds this town will lift. Perhaps, tomorrow, I will be to busy to blog…

Or perhaps not.

Ottawa, what happened?

I watched my poor hockey team, the mighty Ottawa Senators, choke and fail today. Their defense was sloppy, their goal tending was hit and miss and they could not catch a positive puck bounce in the offensive zone. Curse whatever hockey god mocks me and my Senators. To quote a random prisoner in Pirates of the Caribbean, "I'm sorry friend, you've no manner of luck at all..."

First Time

Greetings and salutations, hail and good morrow.

On this, the historic first blog by Goonius Maximus, I have something to say. The weather in Northern Ontario is terrible. Although this is hardly a news flash, I feel the need to say something specific about the weather where I am hiding out. I am currently working on a former mine site up in the hinterlands of Ontario and yesterday we had snow. Well, perhaps freezing rain is a better description, but snow was the net effect. Here we are, seven days from the May two four weekend and we get an inch and a half of snow. My lady, who is waiting patiently for me in Sudbury, offered a gentle “Poor guy…” Can you hear the laughter too?

The job has been essentially rained out for the last several days, and the freezing rain was the last straw. The poor contractor shut down and has not been seen this morning. So, today will be another slack day of memo writing and surfing the internet.

I realize that I have not answered the one question that you all want to know. “Goonius,” you ask, ”What in god’s name are you doing in this cold but beautiful portion of Canada?” I am a site engineer. That means that I am responsible for ensuring that this project gets built and will not fall down.

Later,
Goonius Maximus