<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655</id><updated>2011-07-28T16:35:21.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ding-In-Itself</title><subtitle type='html'>A ding in itself is not that big a deal... it's the water that's the problem.  Of course, you could always just get an epoxy board.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>216</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1347578433116794358</id><published>2010-08-06T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T01:00:17.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hit the brakes!!! Hit the brakes!!!</title><content type='html'>Oh.  How things change.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So... I have definitively disentangled.  No more ULTE.  And this time, I'm not just saying it, or tossing it over in mind, letting it clank around in my skull and settle back down.  I had the goodbye conversation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I were not so completely and unprecedentedly in love, perhaps I would wonder how ULTE is feeling, whether our protestations of the entanglement being a non-relationship were really true... but I am... so I pretty much just can't dig up the caring for that in particular.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And how fortuitous that he with whom I'm madly in love is madly in love with me! I shall not continue further... I know how intolerably happy I have become :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's funny how my or anyone else's hurtling towards death is no longer of any interest to me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1347578433116794358?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1347578433116794358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/08/hit-brakes-hit-brakes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1347578433116794358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1347578433116794358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/08/hit-brakes-hit-brakes.html' title='Hit the brakes!!! Hit the brakes!!!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7670821244061316630</id><published>2010-07-12T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T00:19:33.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As I hurtle headlong towards my own death... part 2</title><content type='html'>One doesn't so much *take* the path of least resistence as one *rolls* down that path, strapped to a gurney, immobilized, possibly by ether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's just easier.  I've declared many times that I'm done with ULTE... but today, he let himself in with a key I (quite casually) gave him on Friday.  After all, it's easier to have him let himself in than for me to have to worry about getting home on time.  So I give up on giving up.  It would be too much work otherwise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7670821244061316630?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7670821244061316630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/07/as-i-hurtle-headlong-towards-my-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7670821244061316630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7670821244061316630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/07/as-i-hurtle-headlong-towards-my-own.html' title='As I hurtle headlong towards my own death... part 2'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6619729683107989469</id><published>2010-06-27T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T22:53:23.497-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neither this nor that.... and that's a good thing.</title><content type='html'>So no, I haven't managed to disentangle.  And yes, no matter how disturbed I become about the subject of the minute, after a few days, or at most a week, I generally get over it.  It's his consistency that fuels my amnesia.  It is always as if nothing had changed.  And, in a world where there is nothing dependable aside from a mother's love, one cannot help but find comfort in this incredible consistency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither young and stupid nor old and sleazy, ULTE1 is LT for a reason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6619729683107989469?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6619729683107989469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/neither-this-nor-that-and-thats-good.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6619729683107989469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6619729683107989469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/neither-this-nor-that-and-thats-good.html' title='Neither this nor that.... and that&apos;s a good thing.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6501190702839598217</id><published>2010-06-27T16:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T16:49:07.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Hawaii? Make Spam Musubi!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjc6BWjHI/AAAAAAAAARM/iByCmRvh5bA/s1600/IMG00227-20100627-1548-747024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjc6BWjHI/AAAAAAAAARM/iByCmRvh5bA/s320/IMG00227-20100627-1548-747024.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604756725009522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjeAkzABI/AAAAAAAAARU/Cq_2nx0sPH4/s1600/IMG00228-20100627-1558-752411.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjeAkzABI/AAAAAAAAARU/Cq_2nx0sPH4/s320/IMG00228-20100627-1558-752411.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604775664156690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjexSjXjI/AAAAAAAAARc/So2V354k9ZQ/s1600/IMG00229-20100627-1558-755690.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjexSjXjI/AAAAAAAAARc/So2V354k9ZQ/s320/IMG00229-20100627-1558-755690.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604788740972082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjf3-x9lI/AAAAAAAAARk/Prry_FCE0CI/s1600/IMG00230-20100627-1558-759069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjf3-x9lI/AAAAAAAAARk/Prry_FCE0CI/s320/IMG00230-20100627-1558-759069.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604807716959826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjgqMZzdI/AAAAAAAAARs/I6uJix-lUo0/s1600/IMG00231-20100627-1608-762636.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjgqMZzdI/AAAAAAAAARs/I6uJix-lUo0/s320/IMG00231-20100627-1608-762636.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604821195869650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjhcsh4iI/AAAAAAAAAR0/a5zFGi9ermM/s1600/IMG00232-20100627-1609-765619.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjhcsh4iI/AAAAAAAAAR0/a5zFGi9ermM/s320/IMG00232-20100627-1609-765619.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604834752389666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjic_2nhI/AAAAAAAAAR8/tR3nNy7lHUY/s1600/IMG00233-20100627-1614-769073.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjic_2nhI/AAAAAAAAAR8/tR3nNy7lHUY/s320/IMG00233-20100627-1614-769073.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604852013309458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjjKE_phI/AAAAAAAAASE/MRftOTjlkdc/s1600/IMG00234-20100627-1620-772039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjjKE_phI/AAAAAAAAASE/MRftOTjlkdc/s320/IMG00234-20100627-1620-772039.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487604864114468370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I even wrapped them in plastic. &amp;#160;All I need is a cabinet with a heat lamp in it.&lt;p&gt;d.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6501190702839598217?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6501190702839598217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/missing-hawaii-make-spam-musubi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6501190702839598217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6501190702839598217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/missing-hawaii-make-spam-musubi.html' title='Missing Hawaii? Make Spam Musubi!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/TCfjc6BWjHI/AAAAAAAAARM/iByCmRvh5bA/s72-c/IMG00227-20100627-1548-747024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1448998301852422250</id><published>2010-06-09T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T00:45:37.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disentanglement</title><content type='html'>ULTE1 is entirely too LT.  I know I've said it (numerous times) before, but this time, I really mean it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1448998301852422250?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1448998301852422250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/disentanglement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1448998301852422250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1448998301852422250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/disentanglement.html' title='Disentanglement'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6044173358960139704</id><published>2010-06-06T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T09:24:45.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As I hurtle headlong towards my own death...</title><content type='html'>I can actually very honestly say that I have been too busy to write... and besides which, there's also the fact that my struggling to meet deadlines does not make for very interesting reading.  You probably already know that I have at least five distinct jobs for which I get paid a single salary, and that I am running a business, and that I am a third of my way through a tedious master's degree... the other details are all as they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, help is here.  The business side of things will require less of my time, as, for the first time, I have actually secured excellent help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the situation with my five jobs will likely get worse before it gets better.  If you keep up with my local news (beyond checking my weather), you will see hints of the systemic problems that are now coming to a head.  And by local news I do not mean the CBC, which, thanks for all the little notes, but I'm with Kerouac on the thin vs famous thing.  I was tricked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was the Tofino Food and Wine Festival... it was sunnier and more lovely than it was last year... and a million times more productive.  Sylvia came out for this one, and got tipsy drunk as she went with me from one conversation to the next.  I was only a bad friend once, when I left her with a surfer dude of ill repute (with warning, if I may add).  It was a lovely event, filled with friends and familiar people.  Aside from the very productive conversations, I discovered a BC wine that I would be entirely happy to drink (when one is presented with that many BC wineries and that many bottles, it would be wrong to say "Oh, I don't know... I don't drink BC wines"). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2006 Syrah from Nichol Valley in Naramata was delicious.  Of course, at $30 a bottle, it really ought to be delicious... since a bottle of good Gigondas costs about that much only after import taxes and shipping from France... of course, price is rarely a sufficient indicator of worth.  I will continue to insist that I know nothing about wine and stick mostly to what I know, but will now include this syrah in my list of possible buys.  How is it, however, that I like this syrah but can't stand so many shirazs?  This seems almost like it might be a slippery slope to being made super aggro by an attack from an Australian Shiraz or GSM.  Perhaps it's time I learnt to understand and describe my southern Rhône standards?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is also the Rip Curl Stew surf competition... Sylvia and I walked down to take a look yesteday... SAIS was in the water, and BNs and DCMS were on the beach.  Everyone, it seemed, was on the list of competitors.  I have yet to reflect on my feelings on the matter.  One thing is for sure though:  as I hurtle headlong towards my own death, I am far more aware of the velocity of others hurtling towards theirs... and fountains of youth become more attractive than crowns of wisdom, which, more often than not, are no indicator of wisdom anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6044173358960139704?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6044173358960139704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/as-i-hurtle-headlong-towards-my-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6044173358960139704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6044173358960139704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/06/as-i-hurtle-headlong-towards-my-own.html' title='As I hurtle headlong towards my own death...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7064777153582222248</id><published>2010-05-12T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T09:51:00.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all about we...</title><content type='html'>Or, I could call this &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/02/not-me-we.html"&gt;Not me.  We.&lt;/a&gt;  Part II.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently, a Tofino teacher is one of three finalists for the "Me to We" award, which is a Craig and Marc Kielburger initiative.  Here is the website blurb:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;Based on Craig and Marc Kielburger's bestselling book, &lt;i&gt;Me to We: Finding Meaning in a Material World&lt;/i&gt;, Me to We is not only a philosophy, but a worldwide movement of people finding purpose by living with compassion, strengthening community and making a commitment to our shared humanity. Me to We creates a path to happiness that is less about the acquirement of material items and much more about making positive contributions in our world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not only a philosophy, but a worldwide movement!  It's half Schopenhauerian, even.  My personal path to happiness begins with embracing the loss of distinction between the nominative and accusative cases.  Me so happy!  I can haz lol speek!  Me luv deeze langwidge!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blargh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been busy.  I haven't had time to think or surf much... but!  I've made some time to read Wittgenstein's &lt;i&gt;Philosophical Investigations&lt;/i&gt;, and am quite in love with it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Meaning something is like going towards someone."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well... that pretty much explains why I've always enjoyed dadaism.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, I ended up unknowingly going on a date with one of ULTE1's closest friends... Ooops.  Perhaps that is also one of my reasons for staying somewhat quieter... and laying low.  Going to work on staying out of trouble.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And... yay!  Our guys won last night... sure, they play for the other team... but they're still our guys, and all y'all Canadian hockey freaks oughta be proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7064777153582222248?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7064777153582222248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-all-about-we.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7064777153582222248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7064777153582222248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-all-about-we.html' title='It&apos;s all about we...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7115000382066318060</id><published>2010-04-18T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T22:22:02.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An all right day...</title><content type='html'>Friday was Bluepath's first surf in 2010.  After repairing it for the third time last October, I decided not to take it out until summer, when the days are long enough for me to surf every day.  Well... the days are now long enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surf wasn't great on Friday, but I got the longest ride of my life!  Or so it seemed anyway.  Bluepath is amazing... and I'm completely in love with it, again.  It's the best board ever!  On Saturday, I got one super long ride after another, until I was just too exhausted to keep surfing.  It didn't even matter if it was a right or a left... every ride is an awesome ride on the Bluepath.  AND!  I made it to the end, past the sticker.  I've been surfing without gloves for weeks, but still having surfed without booties yet.  I saw someone surf without booties today... so I guess it's about time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, I've switched back to the Aerostar... because there is no way I'm strapping Bluepath to a rack... he deserves to ride inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7115000382066318060?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7115000382066318060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-right-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7115000382066318060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7115000382066318060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-right-day.html' title='An all right day...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5536537716154343809</id><published>2010-03-31T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T23:52:14.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>13 Minutes</title><content type='html'>Crap!  I only have 13 minutes left to write my last entry for March... and I'm so not ready (Argh!  It just turned to 12 minutes)... what is going with time?  It's going by entirely too fast... so fast, in fact, I don't even have time to put my very profound thoughts on the smorkin' labbit into a post.  Oh no!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April is supposed to be far away!  It can't be April already.  April is the month immediate preceding May... and well, if May comes, then summer is going to be RIGHT THERE!  And then before I know it, it'll be November!  And I haven't yet made it to Fassil's this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I'm not even sure I made it t Fassil's in all of 2009.  Where did it go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAAARGH!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5536537716154343809?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5536537716154343809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/13-minutes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5536537716154343809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5536537716154343809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/13-minutes.html' title='13 Minutes'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2659943035223174505</id><published>2010-03-20T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T16:46:09.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two bad surfs...</title><content type='html'>I had been hearing all day Thursday about how wonderful the surf was... so I went out as soon as I got off work.  It SUCKED.  I went straight out from the trail and was going to get some lefts on the middle peak at Cox... but as soon as I got out, I realized there was actually nothing out there... so I went further in and further left, and then after not catching one wave, I came up almost right next to the rocks in the corner.  Blargh!  The rip was so strong it took all of two seconds for me to get from the middle to the corner.  It sucked... and sucked me right into the rocks, even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The report said it was going to suck all weekend (super short period)... but this morning, when I went out to walk the dog, it looked okay.  I wasn't going to go, because I have a pile and a half of school work and several piles of work work and so many piles of business work that I wasn't going to go out unless I knew it was going to be good.  Two bad surfs would just be demoralizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I talked to RR and he said I should definitely go out... being one to always take RR's advice (perhaps too consistently and too seriously), I went.  The parking lots were full... both of them!  Even the crappy scary one.  There were a lot of kooks everywhere, so I wondered whether or not it actually was good or whether it was just weekend traffic.  I ran into people whose opinion I trust, and was told that it really was good... and that I didn't need any gloves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, never a fan of gloves, I had my first gloveless surf this year.  It was howling offshore winds... which is probably good for some people... but not good for someone who has to keep her 11' board from getting blown out from under her.  The beach was frighteningly crowded.  There has been this odd photoshopped photo of a super crowded Long Beach tossed about on the internet... ULTE2 thought it an excellent photo... but it seemed to me to be some sort of Hieronymus Bosch horror show... right at one of my favourite beaches.  That's what Cox Bay looked like today... a Hieronymus Bosch horror show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2659943035223174505?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2659943035223174505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-bad-surfs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2659943035223174505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2659943035223174505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-bad-surfs.html' title='Two bad surfs...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7733174333217309423</id><published>2010-03-09T22:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T22:58:28.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wasting Time</title><content type='html'>I had always suspected that one has to do barely any work to get through school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend who worked in the battery industry once told me that it costs &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt; dollars in R&amp;amp;D to make an amazingly complicated battery... and that it costs &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt; times 500 to improve that battery by another 2%.  I think the same thing applies to school work.  It takes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt; effort to get a B+... and it takes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt; times 500 to get an A-.  Maybe the difference is even greater than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been aiming to pass... and I've been overshooting the target.  The worst paper I ever wrote (which is considerably worse than the second worst paper I ever wrote) turned out to be a B+ paper.  I could have spent another 2 weeks on it... and I probably would have ended up with an A paper... but that would not have been rewarded in any meaningful way.  I am no longer striving for excellence.  Mediocrity takes a lot less work, and in the end, no one is going to ask to see my transcript.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any forays into the academic world of Slavic philology will be preceded by extensive, fresh undergraduate work, which will cancel out any doubt that my current academic standing casts upon me.  And MFAs are all about portfolios anyway.  This particular masters really is just passing time.  By the end of this month, I'll be a quarter of the way through.  And by August, I'll be a third of the way through.  It'll be far too late to quit.  It is far too late to quit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7733174333217309423?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7733174333217309423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/wasting-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7733174333217309423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7733174333217309423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/wasting-time.html' title='Wasting Time'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2613357012344901184</id><published>2010-03-01T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T22:21:21.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YAY!!!  It's OVER!!! (for a few weeks, anyway)...</title><content type='html'>I just threw up my second midterm paper in the instructor's lap.  It wasn't pretty... but I'm now only looking to pass.  For both of the past two weekends, I had be trying to write two midterm papers.  I was mostly unsuccessful... in that I did everything but write those papers, until hours before they were due (luckily they were not due on the same day)... some of the fun activities I engaged in instead included:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;reading T.S. Eliot out loud... very loudly&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;parsing Hail Mary in Latin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watching Catherine Breillat movies I've already seen and not liked&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;changing my Facebook interface to Russian and seeing it all like it was the first time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;looking for David Foster Wallace articles in scholarly publications&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;joining an online dating site called "brainiac dating" or some such thing, and then writing inflammatory comments at the pretentious losers found there&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;reading the OED (did you know that to procrastinate means to put off until tomorrow?  this means that if you intend to do something later on today, you are, strictly speaking, NOT procrastinating)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;signing up for twitter (which is so lame that despite the fact that I really was looking for ways to waste my time, could not actually bring myself to wasting time there)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tuning my lute&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watching an episode of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Marriage Ref&lt;/span&gt;... which is probably contemporary US television at its best?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;But now it's all over... and I'm back to putting as much surf in my life as possible... until the finals are here, that is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2613357012344901184?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2613357012344901184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/yay-its-over-for-few-weeks-anyway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2613357012344901184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2613357012344901184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/03/yay-its-over-for-few-weeks-anyway.html' title='YAY!!!  It&apos;s OVER!!! (for a few weeks, anyway)...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1274556221501853247</id><published>2010-02-21T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T20:03:22.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Demographics and Paranoia</title><content type='html'>Five million things to do... the top two of which are papers to write.  One is due 30 hours from now.  I should get started on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back into surfing again, now that the days are longer.  I've been out three days in a row now... Friday was awesome... sunny, glassy, and all lefts... good, long, peeling lefts, every single one.  Saturday was not as good... but there were still good rides to be had.  After a gigantic clean up set (way, way overhead) which almost but didn't get me, I sat out waiting for the next set.  This dude paddles up to me and was being chatty.  He claims to have got the shoulder of one of the massive waves in the previous set... then it appeared to me that he was trying to pick up... then it became apparent that he was trying to pick up.  I like competent longboarders, I do.  But I looked at his board and thought it looked a hell of a lot like the board that BNs was riding when he was doing his pick up thing... a different colour... but same, somehow.  So I asked what he was riding.  And wouldn't you know... it's the same shaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a few too many similarities... and I just wasn't all that interested in learning that his girlfriend doesn't really like to join him on these surf trips &amp;amp;c &amp;amp;c and so I left.  Besides which, I've noticed that the rule is not one chance encounter but two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later, I run into him again in town, and he calls me by name while I am trying to remember which of the three generic 35-45 yr old names he said was his.  Out of the surf, he had that BNs look of expensive jeans and expensive sunglasses... with an expensive hoodie to complete the super cool forever young yet totally respected old school surfer look.  I got an invitation to join him for dinner... but it was a little too casually extended and I was still reacting to his brand of surfboard.  Another time, as we're sure to meet again, according to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the evening progressed, I became increasingly paranoid about the possibility that I'm getting a reputation among the surfers who come through the pass on the weekends.  All it takes is one story.  ULTE2 was in town for a visit, and so I ran the theory by him for his opinion.  At first he figures that BNs is probably keeping super quiet, thanks in no small part to my ability to act in ways that easily convince others of my insanity... but then ULTE2 brings up the point that buddies don't tell on eachother... so it is not impossible that he could have mentioned it to this dude on the same make of board... because really, don't all south island surfers know eachother?  Of course, ULTE2 was just trying to entertain me, so I was able to quickly forget all about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until this afternoon, that is.  ULTE2 and I went out for lunch... and where we chose to eat, there was this other forever young but respected old school surfer dude with really expensive jeans and really expensive sunglasses, who, if he hadn't been wearing a dickie, would have been wearing exactly the sort of expensive hoodie I had in mind earlier... I reacted at first against the over the top coolness... but then I realized that it was more than probable that this very dude is BNs's frater.  Blargh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still able to ignore all this... that is, until I got to the beach, parked my car, and got the Britannia out of the trunk.  A car pulls up on the opposite side, carrying a couple in wetsuits... and one of the two board on their roof rack was the very board that BNs was riding during the pick up... it might not be that very board, but if it wasn't, it was the exact same make and model, with maybe the serial number a few digits off.  Since BNs sold that board last year, it is not impossible that it was that very board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's quite a few reminders in such a short weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1274556221501853247?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1274556221501853247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/demographics-and-paranoia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1274556221501853247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1274556221501853247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/demographics-and-paranoia.html' title='Demographics and Paranoia'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-513301680765138600</id><published>2010-02-15T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T10:37:51.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgetting to Think</title><content type='html'>I recently found and read an old &lt;a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/23638511/the_lost_years__last_days_of_david_foster_wallace"&gt;Rolling Stone article on David Foster Wallace&lt;/a&gt;.  I had suspected that he really is (was) a person who really does (did) live in this world... but reading his work, I could never really be convinced that he lived among us.  His insight and generosity had always seemed otherworldly.  Read the article... &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't had a lot of time to think recently, being super busy with work and school and people.  For the first time in my life, I think I'd like to think more, and I don't mean about Kantian deontology or the politics of forgiveness, either.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-513301680765138600?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/513301680765138600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/forgetting-to-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/513301680765138600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/513301680765138600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/forgetting-to-think.html' title='Forgetting to Think'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7113152895224634609</id><published>2010-02-08T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T23:09:22.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How about a turtle?</title><content type='html'>Well... I haven't written in a while. And despite having said, "Yes, I'll write something TODAY!" on Friday... I still haven't. I'm hoping I can get through this posting and actually hit "publish" at the end of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why the silence? Well... I'd like to say that it was because of a request from someone to remove certain bits from here that made me less motivated to write (it involved reading through posts and finding bits and taking them off, which I was entirely willing to do... but reading through these posts is just... well... depressing. Here I am writing crap and leaving it out there... most of it is thoughtless omphaloskeptic junk. Of course, my indulgent friends (Thank you, indulgent friends.) not only do not mind reading crap, but enjoy reading crap so as to keep up with what's been going on with me. Anyway, I never did get around to editing the posts... all I did was find the posts and saved them as drafts so they're not published. So there is still this thing (of editing) that is left me to do... which I don't feel like doing... which has resulted in my not wanting to bother even logging in... but nevermind that. I'm here.)... but really... I have been insanely busy. I'm busy at work (doing my undefined job with its undefined tasks, which I can without any facetiousness say are worthwhile and fascinating)... and I'm busy with school (two courses this semester... one fun one... one totally not fun one, taught by an economist, even though it isn't an economy course... which, btw, I can't stand. At least in the English department, we *admitted* to making shit up... economy is supposedly based on "the rational person"... well... guess what... such person does not exist... we're all driven by guilt and spite and not logic. And we're never going to ever hold 18 things constant to give us an opportunity to tweak the 19th to result in a change in the 20th.)... and I also went away for 10 days over Christmas in Edmonton (mon dieu qu'il faisait froid!) and more recently 8 days in Hawaii (lovely and temperate, as a friend aptly stole from a hack.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/S3D5NpyVIII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/d_eNsXyXwJg/s1600-h/turtle+for+FB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/S3D5NpyVIII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/d_eNsXyXwJg/s400/turtle+for+FB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436118763186757762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I wanted to see  a sea turtle in Hawaii... my god did I ever!  The first dive was to YO-257 (95 feet deep shipwrecks) and the second was Turtle Canyon.  Definitely the best dives I've ever had (given that I've only ever gone diving in the frigid, zero-visibility waters of Tofino, that's not hard to do)... the locals made fun of my enthusiasm... "visibility sucks!" (it was awesome... could see forever)... "it's not sunny!" (it was like a bright summer day)... "it's too cold!"  (you have got to be kidding me!)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This you see here is a turtle that was hanging out at YO-257... which is a USS  Navy Ship that they sank off of Honolulu for the tourist submarines to look at... in the same shipwreck... there were two white tip reef sharks sleeping... which we woke up... oops!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving along... I am now still corresponding with t's parents.  This is getting a little bit weird... especially since I haven't exchanged a single word with t since New Years Eve... when he sent me a text message saying "Happy New Year!"... and I did the same.  But... because I have been so incredibly busy, I haven't had any time to ruminate on its weirdness... which suits me just fine.  Except now I'm THREE e-mails behind with his mom... and I'm feeling like I really should get on it.... this is really odd... because I'm one e-mail behind with ULTE2, one e-mail behind with Karen, several e-mails behind with many other friends... and somehow I'm not feeling the urgency of writing to my own long-time friends.  Someone please throw something hard and heavy at my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things here are the same as ever... except things do tend to progress despite the total lack of effort.  I recently found myself drinking beer and watching television with ULTE1 for two nights in a row.  This is excessively strange... given that I neither drink beer nor watch television on my own (so much so, in fact, that he had to explain television to me.  You see, when you don't know anything about anything in the world of popular culture... irony is completely lost... and contemporary television is all irony, all the time.).... I ran into him at the parking lot at Cox Bay today.  I do not know what is wrong with me... but I just can't be appropriately social with certain people in the parking lot... strangers are fine... I can be super chatty... but ULTE1?  I was bordering on rude.  I don't know what's wrong with me... but I just can't figure out how to behave in front of his people.... I didn't even really want to acknowledge that I knew him... but that's due entirely to the fact that I don't know his people.... the ones I know are fine... but the ones I don't... I'd sooner pretend I don't know ULTE1 at all... well... I guess it's time for more omphaloskepsis...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotta get to work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7113152895224634609?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7113152895224634609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-about-turtle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7113152895224634609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7113152895224634609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-about-turtle.html' title='How about a turtle?'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/S3D5NpyVIII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/d_eNsXyXwJg/s72-c/turtle+for+FB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2357808196258392764</id><published>2010-01-19T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T21:43:47.987-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 2005</title><content type='html'>Apparently January 19th, 2005, the temperature high was 15C in Vancouver.  This year, it's only 14C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember January 2005... mostly because that was the first winter I was back in Vancouver, and I was really looking forward to skiing.  So much so that I bought a full privilege season's pass at Cypress for many hundreds of dollars.  (surfing is free)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skied on mud and rocks... and ended up scratching the hell out of my newish tele skis... which I painstakingly repaired and waxed and tuned and untuned and then used for only one more season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year is one of those years.  Good luck with the games.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2357808196258392764?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2357808196258392764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-2005.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2357808196258392764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2357808196258392764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-2005.html' title='January 2005'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1684660387432131985</id><published>2010-01-16T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T21:24:32.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Entangled</title><content type='html'>I hadn't surfed since the 4th of January.  I had wanted to go for a surf this morning, but then discovered that my assignment, usually due at midnight, was actually due at noon.  I spent an hour making stuff up (I could have spent hours doing it properly, but that doesn't necessarily guarantee anything, aside from the spending (squandering?) of several hours).  I submitted my assignment, and then went to a funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half the town was there-- many hundreds of people, standing room only.  John was and is well loved.  If I added up all the minutes we were in the same room together, it would not amount to three hours.  It is therefore indisputable that I did not know him well.  What I know with utmost confidence is that in those minutes, he has inspired me to be good to people.  He is inspirationally good, inspirationally compassionate.  I shall remember him, and whenever I do, I shall be reminded to be more like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went for a surf afterwards.  I caught some excellent rides... and then became entangled in a long loose thread from my wetsuit.  I could not explain how it happened.  I do not understand how it happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1684660387432131985?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1684660387432131985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/entangled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1684660387432131985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1684660387432131985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/entangled.html' title='Entangled'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6646532706341123140</id><published>2010-01-08T00:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T00:28:16.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Satori!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So what's going on?  It makes no sense.  What does it all mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Whatever a moon has always meant.  Whatever a sun will always sing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6646532706341123140?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6646532706341123140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/satori.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6646532706341123140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6646532706341123140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/satori.html' title='Satori!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3958028350296850814</id><published>2010-01-03T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T23:05:07.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What?  2010?  Isn't that when the Olympics are on?</title><content type='html'>I got back into town yesterday (for the second time since mid December) and am, again, very happy to be back.  People have been saying "Happy New Year" to me... and I've mostly responded with "Oh!  Right!  I'd completely forgotten!"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This "Christmas Holiday" has been a wild-ish ride... with a lot of driving... and an unusual detour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spending 10 days in Edmonton in the middle of winter is ill-advised for anyone... and spending 10 days in a household with children is extremely ill-advised for someone who just isn't that into kids.  Among other ill-advised activities, going to the West Edmonton Mall on boxing day is a really, really bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my plane flew over the Georgia Straight, I became very thankful that I live on the island... where it's just not that cold... and where my nose isn't bleeding all the bloody time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I planned to maybe go skiing before heading back to Tofino... I had a couple of days free between arriving in Comox on Sunday and having lunch with Sharon at the Wick on Tuesday... I had even packed all my ski gear in my car...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, it was not to be... I ended up getting an invitation to dinner at T's parents' place (I had never met them)... and left their house two days later.  Those two days undid all the damage that Edmonton inflicted (which were by no means trivial... I was a bit of a basket case when I got to YQQ)... and it ended up being my real Christmas.  They didn't get around to having their turkey dinner until the 27th... and so it was that I was able to join them for what felt like Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  They were so incredibly and improbably wonderful that for a while after I left I wasn't sure if it actually happened... but I decided that I couldn't have made something like that up... or... more importantly, given my declaration on the Third of October, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; not have made something like that up.  Besides which, there is hard physical evidence in the form of two fluffy knitted dishcloths that I am now very glad I accepted, for the reason that they serve as evidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beside that they are exceptionally likeable people... I now suspect that a large part of my having enjoyed their company so very much had something to do with the fact that, finally, I met people who held T in higher esteem than I did!  All my friends who know him have, over the last 12 years, developed a bit of disdain for him... much in the same way as a crack addict's friends would develop a contempt for crack (and I do feel a little bit bad about comparing T to crack, but you have probably already observed enough to see its aptness, and for that, I apologize (I promise, though, that I really am fine now)).  Those friends who do not know him of course could not think very well of him, given that all they know is that he turns me into a fool, and not the good kind, either.  And so how refreshing it was to meet two people who think the world of him... love him more than I do, and understand him better... that was the real relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm back in Tofino... I'm surfing... and I'm okay.  And nothing is going to fall apart any time soon.  I hadn't surfed since the 14th of December... I was exhausted by the time I got past the break today.  I missed a whole lot of waves (too far out, as usual)... but when I caught my first one of the day, of the year, and of the decade, it was a super awesome ride... a peeling left that went on forever... I went by a bunch of people... all of whom were watching this awesome ride... and... ULTE1's friend was there to see the whole thing.  He also saw my second ride, which was almost as awesome as my first, but a right.  I don't need the gaze to validate my reality... but it's sure a good feeling to be seen catching a good ride.  There was a lot of waiting... but I got five waves and left.  I found out later on that ULTE1 was there when I was... but he said he got nothing.  I guess it was my welcome home gift.  Happy New Year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3958028350296850814?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3958028350296850814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-2010-isnt-that-when-olympics-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3958028350296850814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3958028350296850814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-2010-isnt-that-when-olympics-are.html' title='What?  2010?  Isn&apos;t that when the Olympics are on?'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2858787466996744106</id><published>2009-12-29T17:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T17:13:27.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OH NO!!!</title><content type='html'>I am hanging on to the tailgate of the wagon... my feet drag a little in the dust... my forearms are sore and my fingers weary... the tailgate is rattling its hinges as the wagon bounces over rocks and ruts... it's moving faster and faster and bouncing harder and harder... and I am barely hanging on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been doing a lot of climbing... so my grip should be stronger... I should be able to climb back on... everything should be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do NOT want to fall off the wagon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just say no to falling off the wagon!  Hold on!  Hold on!  Hold on, hold on with a grip so tight it dams my blood and makes my head feel light...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2858787466996744106?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2858787466996744106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-no.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2858787466996744106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2858787466996744106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-no.html' title='OH NO!!!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4942664899781755002</id><published>2009-12-25T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T11:43:55.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzUV-5oPNqI/AAAAAAAAAPI/vuxno6_IIh4/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NTIuanBn%3F%3D-735865"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzUV-5oPNqI/AAAAAAAAAPI/vuxno6_IIh4/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NTIuanBn%3F%3D-735865"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419261896975922850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Any ideas as to what was meant here?  This is on a washroom door in a restaurant in Edmonton.  There is another note just like it on the men&amp;#39;s washroom.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4942664899781755002?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4942664899781755002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4942664899781755002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4942664899781755002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzUV-5oPNqI/AAAAAAAAAPI/vuxno6_IIh4/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NTIuanBn%3F%3D-735865' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3926002540922542508</id><published>2009-12-23T22:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T22:46:58.595-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jean-Paul Sartre was here...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzMLkfJ5SLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xgfkk942_4Q/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDYuanBn%3F%3D-797658"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418687498123036850" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzMLkfJ5SLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xgfkk942_4Q/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDYuanBn%3F%3D-797658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;I'm at the end of this very cul-de-sac, and have been for nearly a week.  The passing of time is accompanied by dermal desertification.  Blood oozes from the cracks, magma-like.  My nose is always bloody.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3926002540922542508?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3926002540922542508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/img00646jpg.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3926002540922542508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3926002540922542508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/img00646jpg.html' title='Jean-Paul Sartre was here...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SzMLkfJ5SLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xgfkk942_4Q/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDYuanBn%3F%3D-797658' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-8925164819982298130</id><published>2009-12-19T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T23:29:58.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buying vs. Earning</title><content type='html'>Good news, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Time Traveler's Wife&lt;/span&gt; is turning out to be a good read... and my nieces are actually pretty fun to be around.  The age gap between the two of them makes for a bit of awkwardness... and perhaps my sensitivity to that awkwardness is because I'm acutely aware of what the little one won't remember 30 years from now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edmonton reminds me a lot of Montreal and Ottawa... cold, flat, and grey... but like Montreal and Ottawa, Edmonton happens to be the place where people who mean something to me live... so since it's not possible to get these people to move... I guess I'll just have to get used to paying tonnes of money to fly to cold, flat, grey places every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my grade back for my course.  I got an A.  I made a frighteningly minimal effort and got an A in a graduate level course on a subject that I knew next to nothing about.  I'm starting to worry that a master's degree is not so much an education as it is a purchase.  Either that, or I'm a genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing the surf already...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-8925164819982298130?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/8925164819982298130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/buying-vs-earning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8925164819982298130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8925164819982298130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/buying-vs-earning.html' title='Buying vs. Earning'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1933884534978518396</id><published>2009-12-18T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T13:34:59.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First thought</title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;m sitting in the Comox Airport waiting for my flight.  I begin to read a book recommended most recently by the playwright, less recently by Cleone. I decided to buy _The Time Traveler&amp;#39;s Wife_ for airport and plane reading.  So here I am, at the airport, without my copy of _Infinite Jest_, worried that I may have made a horrible mistake-- the first paragraph is not at all promising.  &lt;p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1933884534978518396?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1933884534978518396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/first-thought.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1933884534978518396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1933884534978518396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/first-thought.html' title='First thought'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5264788569238320706</id><published>2009-12-15T23:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T23:47:19.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good timing...</title><content type='html'>As it turns out, my flight doesn't leave until 2:15 from Comox... which means that if I get up really early on Friday... I can get another surf in on Friday before I leave!  This realization brightened my entire day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cleaned the bottom and rails on my NSP today.  There are a LOT of paint chips in that board... I should definitely be more careful... and but now, I really really want to refinish it in black... and name it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ortho Stice&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided today to stop challenging myself on difficult climbing routes... instead, I'm going to work on endurance on easy routes... which will build up strength... which will make difficult routes less difficult in the future.  I climbed the green route six times without rest, then climbed it may more times, but with breaks between every two or three.  I think I've got a plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a completely unrelated note... I am failing even to realize what a relief it has been to be completely done my first semester of the MPA.  On my way back in the new year, I'm going to take the ferry to Victoria to pick up my textbooks... and make another visit to Munro's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two more nights of climbing and one morning surf before I go and freeze my ass off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5264788569238320706?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5264788569238320706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/good-timing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5264788569238320706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5264788569238320706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/good-timing.html' title='Good timing...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1065430517747853510</id><published>2009-12-14T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:38:23.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An altogether-satifactory day...</title><content type='html'>Today was a day off... but... I had an appointment with a dental surgeon in Nanaimo... so most of the day would be squandered on driving.  Knowing that I'm not going to have another opportunity to surf until after I get back from Edmonton, I got up super early to go for a surf.  I was in my wetsuit and out the door before first light... by the time I got to Cox Bay, however, there was already someone in the water... a shortboarder in the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paddled out at LBL, and caught a closeout right off the bat.  Keeping in mind the advice to be more selective about which waves I go for, I let a lot of them go by... which was good... because more of them than not were closeouts.  For the first half hour or so, I made two big drops that quickly closed out... and decided that maybe today wasn't really the best day for a surf that has to last me two weeks.  Whenever there are big drops, there aren't chilled out peeling waves... which are what I'm all about.  I considered calling it quits and going home and getting organized to go to Nanaimo... maybe get there early and do some Christmas shopping... but this was going to be my last surf until at least the 28th... so I stayed.  Good thing I stayed!  I ended up catching three super awesome long rides that were totally overhead!  The buoy report said 6 feet... but it was definitely bigger than that... the reason why I know it was totally overhead was because all the waves I saw other people catch were also way overhead... and they did not look like extraordinarily short people.  When I was about to leave (had to get back by 9AM to shower so that I'd have plenty of time to get to Nanaimo), I decided that I would paddle out just one more time... and catch just one more good one.  I paddled back out, and as soon as I got to the outside, this perfect looking wave started coming my way... I went for it... and it *was* perfect... an overhead peeling right... and I was in the perfect spot for it... it was all very... perfect.  I really wanted another... but realizing that that one was a gift from the conductor, I left, grateful for that perfect ride on the perfect wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it was to Nanaimo... the dental surgeon's office, where I ran into someone with whom I surfed on Saturday, who had also driven all the way from Tofino!  We could have carpooled! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the appointment, I went and shopped (I hate shopping!)... and got a huge pile of groceries for $37 that would probably have cost me $80 in Tofino.  It took me almost three and a half hours to get back from Nanaimo.  The huge storm that's blowing right now was a blizzard all the way till Kerr Creek... it was probably the most demanding drive I've ever done.  Dark, stormy, white-out conditions... and that narrow highway shared with buses and semi trailers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what fun!  Where else can you surf big waves in the morning and then drive through a blizzard in the evening?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1065430517747853510?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1065430517747853510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/altogether-satifactory-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1065430517747853510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1065430517747853510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/altogether-satifactory-day.html' title='An altogether-satifactory day...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-8082350225351513509</id><published>2009-12-13T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T19:25:55.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Bit Counts-- Destroying the Earth, One Cup at a Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SyWwQxVSxFI/AAAAAAAAAO0/UWQq2QiwPgo/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDEuanBn%3F%3D-755450"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SyWwQxVSxFI/AAAAAAAAAO0/UWQq2QiwPgo/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDEuanBn%3F%3D-755450"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414927929149932626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-8082350225351513509?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/8082350225351513509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/every-bit-counts-destroying-earth-one.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8082350225351513509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8082350225351513509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/every-bit-counts-destroying-earth-one.html' title='Every Bit Counts-- Destroying the Earth, One Cup at a Time'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SyWwQxVSxFI/AAAAAAAAAO0/UWQq2QiwPgo/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2NDEuanBn%3F%3D-755450' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-367047817183920679</id><published>2009-12-12T17:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T12:36:11.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You can't just have one...</title><content type='html'>December has been an excellent surf month.  Today, I enjoyed clean surf for three hours without wearing a hood.  I was going to leave, and then I just wanted one more good one... and I'd stay and wait... and I'd get one more good one.  The problem with a good ride is that it makes you want another... so I would wait again... and again... and again.  "I thought you were going to leave three rides ago!"... yes, I was... but... well, you know how these things go... I've heard that some people have this problem with chocolate chip cookies.  I don't really understand that... but if it's anything like getting a good ride, I guess I do understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has been asking me where Bluepath is... and I have had to explain why it's standing in my living room rather than with me in the surf.  It is (I've learned, three repairs later) a very delicate board.  Sure, the glass is heavy and strong... but my skull is even stronger.  And while I haven't had any board injuries lately (or what would have resulted in board injuries if the NSP were injurable), the process of getting a board in and out of my car and in and out of my house exposes it to unnecessary risk of damage.  Once the summer comes and I am again surfing every day and the temperature can be relied upon to stay above zero, I will be on the Bluepath again.  In the meanwhile, I am having a really good time on the NSP... which I've considered painting black... and renaming &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ortho Stice&lt;/span&gt;, which I think is an awesome name for a surfboard, especially once painted black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also planning on getting some foam blocks made for the Bluepath... for when I'm in the parking lot and needing to put the board down, for waxing, for instance.  Seeing as I've got a 9.5" fin on the Bluepath... the foam, compressed (by weight of board and downward force from waxing), would have to be at least 10" high.  Or maybe blocks that are covered in foam... that might be easier... something strong... and light... maybe a hollow half cylinder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My final exam is due at midnight tomorrow... maybe I should work on that instead of thinking about support for my surfboards...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-367047817183920679?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/367047817183920679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-cant-just-have-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/367047817183920679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/367047817183920679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-cant-just-have-one.html' title='You can&apos;t just have one...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5000795263496772388</id><published>2009-12-11T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T16:18:17.217-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another surfing milestone...</title><content type='html'>I had the day off work today... and so went surfing.  I had no idea that Cox Bay could be that busy on a Friday in December.  I had some fun rides today... lefts and rights... shoulder high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been out for about an hour or so when ULTE1 said hi.  I have no idea how long he had been there... and wouldn't have known it was him if he hadn't said anything.  I can't tell shortboarders apart most of the time... not even if I know the shortboarder really well.  This was, I know it is hard to believe, the first time I have ever been in the water with ULTE1.  (Okay, except for the day we met)... it used to be that if I knew he was on the same beach (teaching, always), I would lose my ability to surf, and just give up and leave.  I was a little concerned that his sitting there would make it impossible for me to surf... and for about three minutes, I was all goofy and weird.  I didn't paddle for two waves that I really should have gone for... and when the third one came along, I went for it, and surfed beautifully (a peeling left) and paddled back out.  I was all good again.  We both surfed... watched each other surf... and seemed also to be aware of the watching.  Ridiculous that, after all these years, we would for the first time be concerned with our watchability, one for the other.  And this is no speculation... there were a few show-off rides out there today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now, I am truly comfortable in the surf.  Comfortable and confident.  I had suspected for a while that I actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can&lt;/span&gt; surf... probably at around the same time as the BNs validation... but now I really believe it.  And somehow... the ULTE1 validation seems like an even bigger deal... with more meaning.  If I can surf with ULTE1, I can surf with anyone.  (OOooo... it rhymes!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5000795263496772388?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5000795263496772388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/another-surfing-milestone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5000795263496772388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5000795263496772388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/another-surfing-milestone.html' title='Another surfing milestone...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2519115671832933806</id><published>2009-12-07T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T22:47:56.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's almost Hawaiian...</title><content type='html'>An entire week of sunshine and a weekend of northwest wind made it almost Hawaiian.  There was clean, chest-high surf for Saturday and Sunday.  Seeing as I can only surf on the weekends now (working from dark to dark), I'm leaving the Bluepath in my living room and taking the 11' NSP out.  It's turning out to be an excellent board, whose full potential I am only beginning to discover.  A few times now, I've made improbably beautiful bottom turns while going right.  When I go left, I'm generally able to move much more efficiently and adjust where I am on the wave much more subtly, without making the urgent and dramatic turns as when I go right.  I've been doing cheater cheater fives (cheater fives about a foot back from the nose)... and if these conditions hold... I'll be doing real cheater fives before the summer is here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had decided a while back to sell the 9'1" and buy a 9'6"... but the more time I spend on the 11' NSP, the more I'm realizing that I already have my winter board.  Of course, I'm saying this after a weekend of clean, small surf... and the story could be entirely different after a few weekends of real winter surf, when I can't even get the board to the beach...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2519115671832933806?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2519115671832933806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-almost-hawaiian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2519115671832933806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2519115671832933806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-almost-hawaiian.html' title='It&apos;s almost Hawaiian...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-8989973021861333</id><published>2009-11-30T21:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T22:08:25.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another November Over...</title><content type='html'>Awesome day... awesome day... totally awesome day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got up early and checked the surf... North didn't look good, but I went to Long Beach and had an amazing time.  The water looked cold but wasn't... it looked like it would be a tough paddle out but it wasn't... and I ended up catching a chest high peeler on my 11' board... with no hood on.  I got a bit of a sun tan, even.  It was as if it were summer all over again.  That ride was exactly what I needed (and having been needing for WEEKS now)... I stayed out for hours and caught a few more, though none as exhilarating as that first peeler that went on forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was filled with normal everyday things that were made much more tolerable by the much needed ride.  It's slightly frightening how much difference catching a wave makes.  I become much more productive... not, however, that I have done anything really all that productive today.  In fact, I haven't done anything productive in a long while.  Of course, not having someone else's business to run or dreams to make come true makes being productive a lot more challenging.  I have no vision... and living amongst others who have no vision really isn't conducive to getting serious things done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And but at least I've finally realised this... that I have been nothing more than a symbiotic parasite on those with a vision... and it took moving to a place with no suitable host to recognise this.  As I look around again, I'm realising that I had best come up with... something... and soon, too.  December isn't even around the corner... it's rushing straight down the corridor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-8989973021861333?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/8989973021861333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/another-november-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8989973021861333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8989973021861333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/another-november-over.html' title='Another November Over...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3292364277422797409</id><published>2009-11-29T21:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T21:47:24.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sage Advice from Gerard Manley Hopkins</title><content type='html'>&lt;table bg="" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" width="601" align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(156, 156, 99);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;26.  The Candle Indoors&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;!-- END CHAPTERTITLE --&gt;  &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;     &lt;!-- BEGIN CHAPTER --&gt; &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;S&lt;span style=""&gt;OME&lt;/span&gt; candle clear burns somewhere I come by.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;I muse at how its being puts blissful back&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="2"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;With yellowy moisture mild night’s blear-all black,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="3"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="4"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;By that window what task what fingers ply,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="top" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="5"&gt;&lt;i&gt;        5&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="6"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="7"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;There  &lt;!-- ed. note: stet space--&gt;God to aggrándise, God to glorify.—&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="8"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Come you indoors, come home; your fading fire&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="9"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Mend first and vital candle in close heart’s vault:&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="top" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="10"&gt;&lt;i&gt;        10&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;You there are master, do your own desire;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="11"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;What hinders? Are you beam-blind, yet to a fault&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="12"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;In a neighbour deft-handed? Are you that liar&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="13"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a name="14"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm home... I'm mending my fading fire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3292364277422797409?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3292364277422797409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/sage-advice-from-gerard-manley-hopkins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3292364277422797409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3292364277422797409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/sage-advice-from-gerard-manley-hopkins.html' title='Sage Advice from Gerard Manley Hopkins'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2875672766373847134</id><published>2009-11-28T22:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T22:48:39.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain and Snow...</title><content type='html'>I went for a surf today with the 11' NSP despite the fact that I probably shouldn't have.  I got up and went to check the surf.  It looked horrible on every beach all the way to Long Beach.  As I was driving to Florencia (determined to find a place to surf), I got a message from ULTE1 and a phone call from Michael.  ULTE1 convinced me to abandon my quest for surf and to instead join him for breakfast.  Michael was making a final effort to convince me to go to the Margaret Atwood book reading.  Having no interest in Margaret Atwood, I had no intention of going to her book reading... but for some reason everyone I saw didn't even ask&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;if I was going... they just assumed I would be there.  "Oh, I'll see you tomorrow"  "What's happening tomorrow?"  "The Atwood thing."  "Oh.  I'm not going."  "You're not going?!?!"  "Nope."  "How come??!?!" &amp;amp;c &amp;amp;c.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I'd have to explain that I'm just not that into Atwood, and that just because I like to read, it doesn't mean I'd go to every literary event that comes to town...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, after waffles and opera and minor car repair (which was inspirationally masculine), I went and scraped the wax off the Southpoint and then put on a wetsuit and went for a surf.... or, more accurately, a paddle.  After a paddling furiously for an extended period of time... I made it to the outside.  No one else made it to the outside... which made it special.  Once outside, however, I realized that there really was no point.. and I was more likely to suffer than to get a good ride... so then I went inside... and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been diligently procrastinating since I got home.  I put an ad up to sell my surfboard... and I wasted a number of hours on the internet.  I am now sleepy and ready for bed.  I have successfully postponed engaging with microeconomics for the evening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2875672766373847134?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2875672766373847134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/rain-and-snow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2875672766373847134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2875672766373847134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/rain-and-snow.html' title='Rain and Snow...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3962347959106984413</id><published>2009-11-27T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T00:25:43.204-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Add inches to your board!!!</title><content type='html'>Right after I'm finished writing this post, I'm going to strip the wax off my 9'1" Schopenhauer and put an ad on Coastal BC and sell this board.  It'll sell easily, apparently... because there are very few used longboards in these parts.  I am selling my first surfboard.  I... am selling... my first... surfboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After switching to 11' boards, I didn't want to ride the 9'1" anymore... I assumed that I wouldn't want to ride anything smaller than an 11'... but the more people I talk to, the more I keep hearing that a 9'1" just isn't long enough for a longboard.  A work friend said that he wouldn't ride any longboard under a 9'4"... and then not long after, ULTE1 said the same thing... that a longboard has to be at least 9'6"... this was not what I remember from my early readings about surfboards... the consensus among the literature seem to have suggested that anything above an 8' is a longboard... as it turns out... the caveat was that it has to be above a 9'4" to be a useful longboard...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to "jingle into Christmas" today... (it's a Tofino thing... all the stores stay open late and offer free food and alcoholic beverages... and people go from store to store eating and drinking and shopping... I thought it a little weird at first... but I'm definitely getting into it this year... I even went to the Legion (first time ever) for their turkey dinner)... and tonight, at the surf shop, they convinced me to sell my 9'1" and buy a 9'6".  Considering that, ever since the time Bluepath gave me a concussion, I've been super paranoid about taking out an 11' board in overhead surf, trying a 9'6" isn't a bad idea... especially since there's going to be another I don't know how many months of winter left... and winter will come again, year after year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And selling my first surfboard... that's sort of a big deal... but there's really no other way of going about it... I'm not going to surf this 9'1" ever again... so why would I keep it?  I remember buying this surfboard on Hallowmas 2006... and taking it out for its inaugural ride at South Chesterman... (incidentally, i think that's the last time I surfed South)... ULTE1 was there... he zipped up my zipperless wetsuit for me.  That's the board I'd drive back and forth from the city... getting it in and out of an elevator to the 21st floor... where it had its own room with a view of Mount Baker.  It's the board on which I got my first white water ride... it's the board on which I got my first ride on the green... the it's the board on which I made my first bottom turn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many memories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I'm not going to catch another ride on this board... and having a board that I won't be riding just isn't the thing to do.  So... it'll be a wax and a final polish with the citronella... and then soon it will be goodbye.  I just hope that I don't get overly sentimental and can't go through with it... that is how packrattism happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend though, I'll be going out with my 11' NSP.  I've decided to keep the 11' G&amp;amp;S as my summer board... winter just seems a little too hazardous for a super heavy 11' glass board.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3962347959106984413?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3962347959106984413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/add-inches-to-your-board.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3962347959106984413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3962347959106984413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/add-inches-to-your-board.html' title='Add inches to your board!!!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4332363333521437291</id><published>2009-11-26T18:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T19:12:01.144-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You totally googled me...</title><content type='html'>Uh... yeah... I did... but don't we all?  Isn't this sort of... the thing we do now?  Google each other... see what's out there... do up an open source profile?  Find out as much as you can about the interesting people you meet or read?  Sure, sometimes it gets to be a bit too much information (the make and model of one's major appliances, for instance)... but googling seems to have become a normal part of "getting to know" someone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4332363333521437291?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4332363333521437291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-totally-googled-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4332363333521437291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4332363333521437291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-totally-googled-me.html' title='You totally googled me...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5324405565707928380</id><published>2009-11-24T22:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T00:12:21.989-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Randians and Kantians</title><content type='html'>Despite having sworn off all community events two years ago, I went to this year's Oyster Gala on Saturday.  Earlier in the year, I found the Food and Wine Festival surprisingly enjoyable, which renewed my hopefulness insofar as Tofino community events are concerned.  Still, you won't catch me going to the Martini Migration anytime soon (that one is surely going to call for electro-convulsive therapy afterwards).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw quite a few people at the oyster gala whom I would not usually see... my neighbours across the street, for instance... I have never really seen them anywhere... not even across the street... but they were there... and basically told me they watch my livingroom through the window.  That was a little odd... because while I'd always known that people look into my window (large, floor-to-ceiling windows (not quite to the ceiling because the ceiling is just so incredibly high))... I had never expected anyone to TELL me about looking into my window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I met a cute boy with glasses at the Oyster Gala... well.. I didn't quite meet him, I see him almost everyday... but I had no idea how incredibly entertaining he is... he's sold his soul for art, in a manner of speaking...  and tells fascinating stories... the only curveball was that he out of nowhere announced that he's an Ayn Randist.  I've met plenty of Randians in my life... but they all tended to be engineers, scientists, mathematicians, etc... never an artist... and it makes sense... because what would constitute objectivist art?  Geometry?   I began considering whether or not it is possible for a Randian and a Kantian to get along (my Kant is heavily filtered by Schopenhauer... but when faced with a Randian, I will unreservedly declare myself a Kantian (with the caveat that I'm really more of a Schopenhauerian Kantian)).  Randians and Kantians... don't know... I just don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't surf in over two weeks.  Probably almost three, if not three.  My life is falling apart!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will surf this weekend.  I will surf.  I will surf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I must surf... because lately, I've been deleting as much as I write... (for a few weeks now)... and while I suspected that it has something to do with having had to remove a few entries as requested (because I was too lazy to edit out the bits)... I'm not entirely sure that it isn't a seasonal affective writer's block exacerbated by not surfing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait a minute... of course I'm Kantian... this is called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ding-in-itself&lt;/span&gt; for god's sake&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... &lt;/span&gt;I can't believe I didn't pick up on that earlier.  Brain must be atrophying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5324405565707928380?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5324405565707928380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/randians-and-kantians.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5324405565707928380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5324405565707928380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/randians-and-kantians.html' title='Randians and Kantians'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5804948497528831856</id><published>2009-11-21T14:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T14:12:10.967-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks, Anthony!  These are el awesome.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SwhluzwASBI/AAAAAAAAAOs/pny4QX9tGYk/s1600/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2MTcuanBn%3F%3D-730968"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SwhluzwASBI/AAAAAAAAAOs/pny4QX9tGYk/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2MTcuanBn%3F%3D-730968"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406683207498221586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5804948497528831856?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5804948497528831856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanks-anthony-these-are-el-awesome.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5804948497528831856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5804948497528831856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanks-anthony-these-are-el-awesome.html' title='Thanks, Anthony!  These are el awesome.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SwhluzwASBI/AAAAAAAAAOs/pny4QX9tGYk/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA2MTcuanBn%3F%3D-730968' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4593708385661237398</id><published>2009-11-01T09:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T09:12:51.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>La Toussaint</title><content type='html'>It's a Sunday... and a statutory holiday in France... which means they get a long weekend, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it's been THREE years.  On All Saints' 2006, I bought my first surfboard.  I also bought my first winter wetsuit... and since then, even in the summer, I haven't ever worn my summer wetsuit again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All Saints' 2006 was also the last time I surfed South Chesterman.  Yes, there is a surf beach five minutes from where I live that I haven't surfed at in three years.  Maybe today is the day?  The swell has gone back down to 3 metres... and as of right now, there's supposedly just a little bit of an east wind... which I also think means that there are better beaches to surf than South Chesterman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cleaning up breakfast... and then loading up the car...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4593708385661237398?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4593708385661237398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/la-toussaint.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4593708385661237398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4593708385661237398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/11/la-toussaint.html' title='La Toussaint'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4556058161189859147</id><published>2009-10-31T17:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T17:47:24.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween and please don't come up my stairs.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuzanKdJbNI/AAAAAAAAAOk/CpP_QceFo0U/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1OTAuanBn%3F%3D-744652"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuzanKdJbNI/AAAAAAAAAOk/CpP_QceFo0U/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1OTAuanBn%3F%3D-744652"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398930419666742482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4556058161189859147?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4556058161189859147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-halloween-and-please-dont-come-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4556058161189859147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4556058161189859147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-halloween-and-please-dont-come-up.html' title='Happy Halloween and please don&apos;t come up my stairs.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuzanKdJbNI/AAAAAAAAAOk/CpP_QceFo0U/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1OTAuanBn%3F%3D-744652' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7499076462106883321</id><published>2009-10-31T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T12:20:17.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Horror from the Church of England</title><content type='html'>The Church of England would like to see an end to the "celebration" of Halloween... it's apparently anti-social and perhaps just a little too close to devil worshipping.  To this end, they have, in partnership with The Children's Society, come up with&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;a program to promote alternatives to celebrating Halloween as we know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are saying that since Halloween is really the eve of All Saints Day, it shouldn't be about horror.  It is interesting to note, however, that the Halloween Choice website itself induces horror.  I had assumed that rampant solecism was a North American phenomenon (American, mostly)... as it turns out... it's quite the thing in England as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out the &lt;a href="http://www.halloweenchoice.org/index_files/Page387.htm"&gt;FAQ section&lt;/a&gt; for some Halloween Horror from the Church of England.  I wonder what the devil has to say about this horribly written FAQ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7499076462106883321?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7499076462106883321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-horror-from-church-of-england.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7499076462106883321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7499076462106883321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-horror-from-church-of-england.html' title='Halloween Horror from the Church of England'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6616457703623005700</id><published>2009-10-29T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T21:16:04.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Le cupcake n'est pas français</title><content type='html'>Haven't surfed in so long... I think I might be going slightly insane.  I'm looking forward to the weekend though... I'll have plenty of daylight for surfing then... I just hope that this surf competition thing is out of here by then... the surf-- which hasn't been looking at all inviting in the last little while anyway-- is full of professional surfers.... who make the uninviting surf even less inviting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But whatever.  The weekend will come... there will be daylight... and there's got to be a beach somewhere with a wave.  I hope the water temperature plunges to around 7 degrees... that might help keep a few people out of the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tofino has been a little déprimant as of late... (everything, I've noticed, sound better in french to a lot of people... I don't know why... it doesn't to me... but like that cupcake store that somehow managed to for a very long time market the most unfrench thing on earth as french and actually get away with it, I'm going to randomly substitute french words for english ones... mostly because I'm bored... or... let's say... experiencing ennui... (but does it still count as french if it's in the OED?  I'm guessing not)...)... anyway... I was at the grocery store, and ran into SAIS.  We had another one of those empty conversations... and while talking to him, I noticed that there's a yellow wire-like thing on his ear... I asked him what was going on with his ear... and he touched his ears and asked me what was wrong with them... I pointed out the yellow thing on his ear... he checks it again, pulls it off, and says "Oh!  that was an elastic band I was playing with!  Ha Ha Ha!".... oy.  He put a bright yellow elastic band around his ear (for god knows what reason) and then forgot about it.  That's some serious boy genius of the brain right there.  And then... while still at the co-op, I ran into the dude to whom I loaned my copy of DFW's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Infinite Jest&lt;/span&gt;... he was definitely at one point able to read and appreciate such a masterpiece as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Infinite Jest&lt;/span&gt;... but today when I saw him, he looked like something you would cross the street to avoid while strolling casually through the downtown eastside.  And if that isn't totalement déprimant, I do not know what is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't make these people up.  They exist out there, far beyond of the borders of my skull-sized kingdom.  These are the sort of people by whom I am surrounded.  Against this backdrop is ULTE1... who, I can insist, due to my obstinant refusal to dig further, knows more about Heidegger than I do... has abundant knowledge of modern (as in pre-post-modern) architecture and furniture design... and is conversant in subjects I have not heretofore even encountered.  All I need to do to remain steadfast in my belief is to leave things as they are.  Just don't scratch it.  I'm not saying I don't think all this is actually the case, I do... but why take unnecessary risks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end today's post... something by Chateaubriand...  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tout me lasse: je remorque avec peine mon ennui avec mes jours, et je vais partout baîllant ma vie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6616457703623005700?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6616457703623005700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/le-cupcake-nest-pas-francais.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6616457703623005700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6616457703623005700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/le-cupcake-nest-pas-francais.html' title='Le cupcake n&apos;est pas français'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1847578858056278463</id><published>2009-10-26T19:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T19:15:12.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explanation may be required...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuZXsOEzR0I/AAAAAAAAAOc/Ng8LQfOX-r0/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1ODguanBn%3F%3D-712760"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuZXsOEzR0I/AAAAAAAAAOc/Ng8LQfOX-r0/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1ODguanBn%3F%3D-712760"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397097620654212930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I am eating Chinese food in a grocery store... but mon dieu is it ever brilliant!!&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1847578858056278463?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1847578858056278463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/explanation-may-be-required.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1847578858056278463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1847578858056278463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/explanation-may-be-required.html' title='Explanation may be required...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuZXsOEzR0I/AAAAAAAAAOc/Ng8LQfOX-r0/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1ODguanBn%3F%3D-712760' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6229717921284704823</id><published>2009-10-25T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:03:02.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Possibly the last post on T.</title><content type='html'>The last Sunday of October 2008 was the 25th, not the 26th as it is this year.  Halloween was on a Friday night, not a Saturday night as it is this year.  I remember the last Sunday of October 2008 more clearly than I remember yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After five years (and a few days) of not having seen each other, T and I met up for breakfast.  A few wise and prescient souls tried to prevent this from happening... but it happened anyway.  Before the clock struck midnight, I was yet again completely undone... or,  at the very least, completely unhinged.  I spent the rest of the week oscillating between the belief that the decade-long ordeal is satisfactorily concluded and the belief that I was at the precipice of something at once frightening and wonderful.  As it turns out, neither belief was sound... and I would spend nearly another year at becoming bored with the idea of T.  In the end, it was the dinner table exercise that helped me figure the whole thing out... but it took almost another year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've got it.  I hope I've got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell did I do with this weekend?  Or this past year... or three or five, for that matter...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6229717921284704823?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6229717921284704823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/possibly-last-post-on-t.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6229717921284704823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6229717921284704823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/possibly-last-post-on-t.html' title='Possibly the last post on T.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3157284121413794935</id><published>2009-10-22T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T11:03:37.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tofino Film Festival 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuCTjt5W1eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/JwFiPFgqYbI/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuCTjt5W1eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/JwFiPFgqYbI/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395474595414726114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I started wondering what &lt;i&gt;Canopes&lt;/i&gt; were... are they a cross between a snacky bite and a tent-like structure?... and then I realized that it doesn't matter... because they're serving goat!  I love goat.  Do you suppose it will be curried goat?  Who cares what they're serving with the goat, as long as they're serving goat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3157284121413794935?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3157284121413794935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/tofino-film-festival-2009.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3157284121413794935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3157284121413794935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/tofino-film-festival-2009.html' title='Tofino Film Festival 2009'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SuCTjt5W1eI/AAAAAAAAAOU/JwFiPFgqYbI/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3112064070921017015</id><published>2009-10-21T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T08:26:00.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take this quiz to find out!</title><content type='html'>Are you an RR (Regular Reader) or a PR (Pretentious Reader)?  Take this 5-second quiz to find out!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do you pronounce the title &lt;i&gt;Fearful Symmetry&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fearful Symme-&lt;i&gt;tree&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fearful &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;Symme-&lt;/span&gt;try&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, if you are concerned that book buyers will confuse the Niffenegger novel with the Frye study, you are a UPR (Uber-Pretentious-Reader).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3112064070921017015?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3112064070921017015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/take-this-quiz-to-find-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3112064070921017015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3112064070921017015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/take-this-quiz-to-find-out.html' title='Take this quiz to find out!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2653403891685554263</id><published>2009-10-20T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T13:47:58.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We need more feet...</title><content type='html'>The globe and mail... the GLOBE AND MAIL for crying out loud!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 18px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Several high-profile human rights organizations have criticized the Sri Lanka government for failing to release the Tamil civilians from the camps, noting that conditions are deplorable, with foot and water shortages."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/british-columbia/in-vancouver-dozens-of-boat-migrants-await-their-fate/article1328619/"&gt;http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/british-columbia/in-vancouver-dozens-of-boat-migrants-await-their-fate/article1328619/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2653403891685554263?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2653403891685554263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/foot-shortages.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2653403891685554263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2653403891685554263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/foot-shortages.html' title='We need more feet...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3066956220860408095</id><published>2009-10-19T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T00:32:17.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>News from afar</title><content type='html'>The honour of interesting and informative conversations are now rarely bestowed upon me.  Old friends visit infrequently, and my trips to the city are always rushed and therefore often empty.  What a treat it was, then, to spend a weekend with a dear friend on the sleepy east coast of Vancouver Island... where the dearth of obligations and convenient distractions gave us leave to sit and talk a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a conversation about forgetfulness, in which I lamented my inability to recall the name of that poem about golden grove unleaving, she asked whether I had read the recently released biography of my favourite poet.  I, being in self-imposed exile from the world of arts and letters, was wholly unaware of its publication (I have been behind in reading my Harper's... not having much of David Foster Wallace to look forward to, I just haven't been as motivated).  A quick restaurant table google led me to the New York Times book review, and another quick google gave me the phone number to Munro's Books, who, I trusted, would be the best bet for finding literary biographies of a poet whose once household name has dwindled to relative obscurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also asked whether I had heard that Angela Gheorghiu had pulled out of all her Met performances in which Roberto Alagna would also be performing.  I was slightly confused, as, since their separation years ago (during my pre-Tofino life), they had performed together on multiple occasions.  Well... as it turns out... things went from bad to worse... and they can't even be on stage together anymore.  That sort of news has got to have shaken up the opera world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... another piece of news that made a ripple (a much smaller one, I would imagine) in the opera world, is that Dmitiri Hvorostovsky has been ordered by the courts to up his alimony for his ex-wife, Svetlana, and their two children.  Huh.  I didn't even know he had an ex-wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there was an opera version of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Entertainment Tonight&lt;/span&gt;, we would be much better informed of the going-ons with our opera stars.  It is no coincidence, I think, that those who are totally into opera don't really care much about what their favourite baritones had for breakfast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3066956220860408095?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3066956220860408095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/news-from-afar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3066956220860408095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3066956220860408095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/news-from-afar.html' title='News from afar'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3248055929569396602</id><published>2009-10-18T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T20:24:59.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing track of time...</title><content type='html'>Spent the weekend with Cathy bungee jumping and book buying.  Completely lost track of time in Munro's and got a parking ticket... the payment for which is insignificant when compared to the amount spent on books.  Cathy alerted me to a new (2008) biography on GM Hopkins... so we had to drive down to Victoria to get the only copy they had... quite possibly the only copy on the island.  Of course, one does not walk into Munro's with the intention of picking up a book and leave with only one book...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally, after all these years, going to get started on Kant as per Schopenhauer's instructions.  Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3248055929569396602?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3248055929569396602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/losing-track-of-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3248055929569396602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3248055929569396602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/losing-track-of-time.html' title='Losing track of time...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7626628750318763716</id><published>2009-10-15T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T21:43:12.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When you don't pay attention...</title><content type='html'>ULTE1 was telling me that he is going to see John Prine in Victoria... and that this would be one of the very few concerts he's been to that is not general admission.  I told him that it has been the reverse for me, having only been to handful of concerts that were general admission... one of those was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Les Trois Accords&lt;/span&gt; at the Metropolis in Montreal... and since he hadn't heard of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Les Trois Accords&lt;/span&gt;, I reached for a laptop that was close by to introduce him to them.  Windows starts up... and voilà!  the wall paper was a picture of the surf taken at North Chesterman on September 30th, 2006... ULTE1 was in it!  I always knew that he was in my wallpaper picture on that laptop... but it had been there for so long that I had forgotten all about it.  I don't know whether he recognised himself in it... my guess is he didn't... he's maybe only 30 pixels wide and facing away from the camera... still, that hair is pretty easy to recognise.  He didn't say anything about it though... which doesn't tell me anything about whether he saw it or not.  We don't exactly have the sort of relationship where I would have his image as wallpaper... so it might have been a little bit weird...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's pretty cool though... three years later, I'm showing him youtube videos of dmitri hvorostovsky on a thursday evening.  Tempus fugit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh... and five minutes after my saying that I don't know John Prine (except for from a few weeks ago when a friend mentioned him and I said I'd never heard of him)... he sees an entire directory of John Prine music in my media player library... it's Timothy's music library... and it's been on my computer for a year.  How does one explain that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Digital pack-ratting.  Never updating stuff on old computers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I experienced a little brain squish when I realized how long these things have been on there...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7626628750318763716?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7626628750318763716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-you-dont-pay-attention.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7626628750318763716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7626628750318763716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-you-dont-pay-attention.html' title='When you don&apos;t pay attention...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-263789007784127074</id><published>2009-10-15T08:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T21:13:13.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>someone somewhere probably has an abacus Canadian Tire can borrow...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Stc-L6hfe9I/AAAAAAAAAOM/px-DdYemZBE/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzguanBn%3F%3D-743267"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Stc-L6hfe9I/AAAAAAAAAOM/px-DdYemZBE/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzguanBn%3F%3D-743267" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392847453208673234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;$59.99 is apparently half of $139.99.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-263789007784127074?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/263789007784127074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/someone-somewhere-probably-has-abacus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/263789007784127074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/263789007784127074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/someone-somewhere-probably-has-abacus.html' title='someone somewhere probably has an abacus Canadian Tire can borrow...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Stc-L6hfe9I/AAAAAAAAAOM/px-DdYemZBE/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzguanBn%3F%3D-743267' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5884340985854938118</id><published>2009-10-13T22:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T22:43:03.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waxed and ready! (wish there were daylight)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVk5w2VQlI/AAAAAAAAAOE/t1fZIWVekeU/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzcuanBn%3F%3D-783658"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVk5w2VQlI/AAAAAAAAAOE/t1fZIWVekeU/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzcuanBn%3F%3D-783658"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392327072374145618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5884340985854938118?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5884340985854938118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/waxed-and-ready-wish-there-were.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5884340985854938118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5884340985854938118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/waxed-and-ready-wish-there-were.html' title='Waxed and ready! (wish there were daylight)'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVk5w2VQlI/AAAAAAAAAOE/t1fZIWVekeU/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NzcuanBn%3F%3D-783658' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-679820497560277624</id><published>2009-10-13T20:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T20:46:14.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bluepath after a citronella bath</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVJhsDVwsI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YMbiQI2iJs0/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjYuanBn%3F%3D-774341"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVJhsDVwsI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YMbiQI2iJs0/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjYuanBn%3F%3D-774341"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392296971955716802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;There are a million little dings... but look how shiny and beautiful he is!  So shiny that you could see the Britannia&amp;#39;s fake stringer reflected on him...&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-679820497560277624?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/679820497560277624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/bluepath-after-citronella-bath.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/679820497560277624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/679820497560277624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/bluepath-after-citronella-bath.html' title='Bluepath after a citronella bath'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVJhsDVwsI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YMbiQI2iJs0/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NjYuanBn%3F%3D-774341' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-606603631065534649</id><published>2009-10-13T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T20:13:55.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A million little dings...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVB8yP_CnI/AAAAAAAAAN0/VFNGllXy9Do/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NTMuanBn%3F%3D-735453"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVB8yP_CnI/AAAAAAAAAN0/VFNGllXy9Do/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NTMuanBn%3F%3D-735453"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392288641382812274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-606603631065534649?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/606603631065534649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/million-little-dings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/606603631065534649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/606603631065534649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/million-little-dings.html' title='A million little dings...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StVB8yP_CnI/AAAAAAAAAN0/VFNGllXy9Do/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NTMuanBn%3F%3D-735453' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5612516071046292794</id><published>2009-10-13T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T18:33:28.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post-Surgical Bald-spot</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StUqaJv_zbI/AAAAAAAAANs/_bNPDn9Pue8/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDUuanBn%3F%3D-708503"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StUqaJv_zbI/AAAAAAAAANs/_bNPDn9Pue8/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDUuanBn%3F%3D-708503"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392262757628235186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5612516071046292794?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5612516071046292794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/post-surgical-bald-spot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5612516071046292794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5612516071046292794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/post-surgical-bald-spot.html' title='Post-Surgical Bald-spot'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StUqaJv_zbI/AAAAAAAAANs/_bNPDn9Pue8/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDUuanBn%3F%3D-708503' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2165022825241875928</id><published>2009-10-12T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T14:33:16.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Please help...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StOgnSf6mtI/AAAAAAAAANk/CRojDnkqdQg/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDQuanBn%3F%3D-796833"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StOgnSf6mtI/AAAAAAAAANk/CRojDnkqdQg/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDQuanBn%3F%3D-796833"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391829775733660370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I need your help in interpreting this sign.  It&amp;#39;s at the Wickaninnish Inn... so it probably is supposed to say what it says... but what does it mean to &amp;quot;wonder&amp;quot; in one&amp;#39;s footsteps?  I wonder...&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2165022825241875928?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2165022825241875928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/please-help.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2165022825241875928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2165022825241875928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/please-help.html' title='Please help...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/StOgnSf6mtI/AAAAAAAAANk/CRojDnkqdQg/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDQuanBn%3F%3D-796833' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1845525302384926421</id><published>2009-10-10T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T13:08:15.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When surfing isn't good enough...</title><content type='html'>Going for a surf makes everything better... this is almost true even for bad surf sessions, but not entirely.  I picked up Bluepath on Thursday, and went out at Cox Bay with the Britannia.  Bluepath needs to be stripped of wax and re-waxed-- the big post-surgical wax bald spot cannot be covered up.  I still haven't gotten around to doing that.  The surf wasn't great that night... I got a few rides, but otherwise just froze in my holey wetsuit... there was even a big hole in my right mitt, which made for a frozen right hand.  And despite its not having been a crowded beach, no matter where I went, there were these two people just on the inside of where I was.  It was as if they were following me... perhaps they were... and really wanted to get hit by an 11' board.  It sort of sucked, if that's possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't seem to be taking bad surfs very well.  Yesterday, for the first time in forever, I sat on the couch and watched TV.  I watched some sort of a sci-fi horror movie in which shoppers get trapped in a grocery store by mist and gigantic bugs from another dimension.  It was like nothing I would ever watch... and I couldn't stop watching it.  Its similarity to Jose Saramago's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blindness&lt;/span&gt; made me want to see exactly how this was going to end... but while Saramago's novel was obviously an exercise in illustrating just how horrible people are (and, according to T., the all-redemptive power of women, with which he disagrees (both the power and, likely, women in general), and with which I also disagree, but for entirely different reasons), this movie had far too many improbable heroes in it for that to have been the point.  There also seemed to be a discriminatory treatment of suicide over murder, which almost seems to say that it's okay to kill people if they don't want to die, but not okay if they do.  It all made very little sense.  And the deus ex machina was the US military...which was an appropriately comic end to a very strange movie.  Overall, I would have to say that it was worthwhile... because despite the fact that you know all along that there's going to be a really stupid ending, it's intriguing enough that you want to know just what this stupid ending is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you were wondering why I'm not going climbing on the days when I'm not surfing, it's because I seem to have rather severely sprained both of my middle fingertips.  I suspect it's overuse from climbing and hanging on to tiny little holds far longer than I ought to have had... but who knows... it could be anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1845525302384926421?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1845525302384926421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-surfing-isnt-good-enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1845525302384926421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1845525302384926421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-surfing-isnt-good-enough.html' title='When surfing isn&apos;t good enough...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7032003349203876470</id><published>2009-10-09T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T11:39:43.737-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vancouver Island Engrish - Post #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9hZdTa48I/AAAAAAAAANc/GoNM33Tlha0/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDQuanBn%3F%3D-769600"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9hZdTa48I/AAAAAAAAANc/GoNM33Tlha0/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDQuanBn%3F%3D-769600" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390634368976479170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;when you see signs like this... you really, really want to believe that it was intentional... that somebody, somewhere, is having a really good laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7032003349203876470?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7032003349203876470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/vancouver-island-engrish-post-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7032003349203876470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7032003349203876470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/vancouver-island-engrish-post-2.html' title='Vancouver Island Engrish - Post #2'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9hZdTa48I/AAAAAAAAANc/GoNM33Tlha0/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDQuanBn%3F%3D-769600' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1700668035612959612</id><published>2009-10-09T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T11:37:34.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vancouver Island Engrish - Post #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9gCYQFR-I/AAAAAAAAANU/-FVqyUMMp5o/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDMuanBn%3F%3D-721934"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9gCYQFR-I/AAAAAAAAANU/-FVqyUMMp5o/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDMuanBn%3F%3D-721934" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390632872971683810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;and you'd want to do this because not having a strong start will make you illiterate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1700668035612959612?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1700668035612959612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/vancouver-island-engrish-post-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1700668035612959612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1700668035612959612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/vancouver-island-engrish-post-1.html' title='Vancouver Island Engrish - Post #1'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Ss9gCYQFR-I/AAAAAAAAANU/-FVqyUMMp5o/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDMuanBn%3F%3D-721934' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-8439798867221482177</id><published>2009-10-07T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T22:20:25.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It doesn't make sense... but I get it.</title><content type='html'>Oooo.  Went out for a surf today.... glassy knee high peelers... perfect for an 11 foot board... and perfect for my return to Tofino.  The Bluepath is still at the shop (needs a polish)... so my sunset session was with the Britannia.  The light was beautiful... it was la vie en rose... even my board was pink in the evening light.  I got more good rides than I could count (it is, however, possible that my counting abilities were lost when I got whacked in the head).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally brought myself to logging in to my microeconomics course again... I got my first assignment back... 87%... which says to me that it's not that I didn't understand what they are saying... but simply that I have no appreciation for it.  I guess I had better suck it up and do my work... finish the course and move on... to what I'm not entirely sure... but at the very least, as far away from microeconomics as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening, I skimmed through the National Speleological Society's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On Rope&lt;/span&gt;... I don't know what I did wrong the last time I tried ascending a single rope... but it seems to me that I did exactly what the book describes.  I guess I'd better go figure it out... first by finding a place to hang a rope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-8439798867221482177?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/8439798867221482177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/it-doesnt-make-sense-but-i-get-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8439798867221482177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8439798867221482177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/it-doesnt-make-sense-but-i-get-it.html' title='It doesn&apos;t make sense... but I get it.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4858516342816360642</id><published>2009-10-06T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T22:51:44.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Symbols and Metaphors</title><content type='html'>Home.&lt;p&gt;It occurs to me that I am a symbol addict.  I had thought I was devoted to metaphors and language... but it really isn&amp;#39;t about tropes... it is and has always been about symbols-- things standing for other things.&lt;p&gt;This is why this time, it&amp;#39;s permanent-- useless attachments severed.  There is, for the first time, the opportunity to consider the question &amp;quot;what&amp;#39;s next?&amp;quot;&lt;p&gt;I am tempted to say Iceland.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4858516342816360642?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4858516342816360642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/symbols-and-metaphors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4858516342816360642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4858516342816360642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/symbols-and-metaphors.html' title='Symbols and Metaphors'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7269651070489797888</id><published>2009-10-06T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T14:59:34.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Severing Attachments</title><content type='html'>Not much to be done in the city... I went and renewed my driver&amp;#39;s license, which expires next month... and then picked up a few pieces of caving gear at MEC.  I realise that I have almost no use for the city now.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I met up with Cathy at a climbing gym (the biggest in western Canada, apparently)... and then Sylvia joined us.  They climbed to exhaustion, and I climbed till they were exhausted.  There were so many easy routes with friendly holds that it was a climbing vacation.  We were there till past 10PM, and we&amp;#39;d been there since 5:30.  Afterwards, we went across the highway to a Cactus Club, where we were able to get the same food as at the Shelter.  We could pretty much have had the same evening in Tofino... except the climbing routes would have been more difficult and the dinner more expensive-- I suppose Tofino has everything I need, if the right people were there.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The dragonfly pendant I&amp;#39;ve been wearing was also a lapel pin.  On the back, this bulky and unnecessary pin has always been in my way-- getting caught on things, coming undone and stabbing me in the neck, &amp;amp;c.  The other day, Timothy cut it off for me.  He used something like a pair of tin snips to take the pin off, and then filed it down with a diamond file.  It&amp;#39;s slightly scratched up... but the attachment has been severed-- which makes an excellent landmark for the severing of attachment.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I am now back on the ferry... leaving behind a whole list of missed appointments.  I don&amp;#39;t feel good about it... but my time is not my own in the city.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7269651070489797888?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7269651070489797888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/severing-attachments.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7269651070489797888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7269651070489797888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/severing-attachments.html' title='Severing Attachments'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5466357062489579847</id><published>2009-10-05T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T09:58:04.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Kitchen That Works As Good As It Looks</title><content type='html'>Ikea offers a kitchen that works _good_.  Would you would like a kitchen that works _good_?  Perhaps you could check out Ikea&amp;#39;s kitchens.  They not only look good, they work good, too!&lt;p&gt;I think maybe it&amp;#39;s time I move to a country where I don&amp;#39;t speak the language.  That way, when I read advertising posters in elevators, I&amp;#39;ll be struggling to understand the message rather than the gross incompetence that led to their publication.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5466357062489579847?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5466357062489579847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/kitchen-that-works-as-good-as-it-looks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5466357062489579847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5466357062489579847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/kitchen-that-works-as-good-as-it-looks.html' title='A Kitchen That Works As Good As It Looks'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5994742998663474822</id><published>2009-10-03T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T22:35:57.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Declaration of Independence</title><content type='html'>I write this note from the epicentre.  I&amp;#39;m done.  Seriously.  Done.  And all this before I hit the 12 year mark.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5994742998663474822?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5994742998663474822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/declaration-of-independence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5994742998663474822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5994742998663474822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/declaration-of-independence.html' title='A Declaration of Independence'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5866789045638871816</id><published>2009-10-03T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T13:09:28.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shocked</title><content type='html'>There were many women in the washroom of the ferry; many were doing their hair.  By &amp;quot;doing their hair,&amp;quot; I do not mean a cursory glance in the mirror and then repositioning a wayward lock, but rather *doing*... with combs, brushes, flat irons, curling irons, &amp;amp;c.  One woman&amp;#39;s curls were so set that what would probably be described as the action of &amp;quot;tousling&amp;quot; actually emitted a coppery, scratching noise.  I am not in Tofino anymore... and I haven&amp;#39;t even made it all the way across the water yet.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5866789045638871816?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5866789045638871816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/shocked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5866789045638871816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5866789045638871816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/shocked.html' title='Shocked'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2851740241618946272</id><published>2009-10-02T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T09:02:47.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Place on Earth</title><content type='html'>Life really is like this in Tofino... watch this &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HsHrsWZgNU"&gt;video&lt;/a&gt;.  Seriously.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2851740241618946272?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2851740241618946272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-place-on-earth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2851740241618946272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2851740241618946272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-place-on-earth.html' title='The Best Place on Earth'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3866139393507124033</id><published>2009-10-01T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T00:50:16.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Britons Never, Never,  Never Shall Be Slaves</title><content type='html'>Woke up super early, made breakfast, and drove to Port to get my chipped tooth fixed.  Then I came back and saw that it was 7.9ft on 12 seconds with SE winds... so I went for a surf with the Britannia.  ULTE2 named it "The Britannia" on the weekend in June when K was out here... I was catching so many waves with the 11' NSP that he felt it "ruled the waves"... the name didn't really stick... but after today... I think I'm going to give it another try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Britannia doesn't carve half as well as the Bluepath... but it is super easy to catch waves on... and as long as one is happy riding straight down the line, it's a super awesome board.  It's very floaty... so you have to be way up to paddle it... and way back to turn it.... waaaay back.  This afternoon, I had forgotten my contacts and arrived at the parking lot with glasses on... I decided to go out blind, because I really didn't have the time or patience to go back home and go back to the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light was flat and I couldn't see anything... but my god... what a series of awesome rides!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had an excellent surprise visit from Margo today... I love that her work will bring her here regularly.  This might be a bit ambitious... but I hope that by the time she next comes out to Tofino, the t. situation will have been figured out and dissolved.  Actually, I'm hoping for it to be vaporized before noon on Sunday.... yes, I'll be in the city this weekend... anyone up for Fassil's?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3866139393507124033?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3866139393507124033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/britons-never-never-never-shall-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3866139393507124033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3866139393507124033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/10/britons-never-never-never-shall-be.html' title='Britons Never, Never,  Never Shall Be Slaves'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1626876908233607442</id><published>2009-09-30T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T09:06:52.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finjuries</title><content type='html'>As it turns out, finjuries aren&amp;#39;t just for people.  I got a call from the Board Medic last night telling me that my fin box is loose.  I guess when Bluepath&amp;#39;s fin hurt me, I hurt it, too.  Sounds like a dysfunctional relationship.  So they&amp;#39;re going to replace the fin box.  Poor Bluepath... one operation after another!  &lt;p&gt;I&amp;#39;m sitting in the dentist&amp;#39;s waiting room right now waiting to get my chipped tooth fixed.&lt;p&gt;Yesterday, under Johnny&amp;#39;s instructions, I climbed the orange route without using the side wall at all... twice.  It was not easy... but what it was was definite progress.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1626876908233607442?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1626876908233607442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/finjuries.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1626876908233607442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1626876908233607442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/finjuries.html' title='Finjuries'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4581845771095971170</id><published>2009-09-29T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T15:02:27.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Douche vs. Colostomy</title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;ve never understood why &amp;quot;douche bag&amp;quot; is an insult... why not call someone a colostomy bag?  It makes much more sense.  One holds cleaning solution, the other shit.  Seems to me to be a no-brainer.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4581845771095971170?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4581845771095971170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/douche-vs-colostomy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4581845771095971170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4581845771095971170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/douche-vs-colostomy.html' title='Douche vs. Colostomy'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1699988867522839721</id><published>2009-09-29T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T12:44:38.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still sleep deprived, apparently.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Note:  I fell asleep while composing this yesterday, so I'm back dating it for midnight +1 minute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried to come up with a list of surf injuries for this season, but I had trouble compiling the list... possibly because I suffered a level 1 concussion on Wednesday when I dinged my board with my skull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that there's a chip on my right central incisor (getting it fixed Wednesday morning)... there's a hard, longish bump on the front of my right tibialis anterior (a "finjury")... there's still a sore spot on the left side of my jaw... there is a collection of big bruises on the insides of both arms... there's a big bruise on the inside of my left thigh... my left ear has taken to ringing and my right ear just plain hurts...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that I've noticed though... is that all the pain is coming from getting whacked and not from over-exertion... this can be interpreted as progress... I've been surfing so much that my arms and back don't get sore now unless they get whacked... progress!  If I could figure out which waves to go for and when so as to avoid getting whacked... that would be even more progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loaded my 11' NSP into the car today... and went and got a thermal rash guard thing to keep warm... both my winter wetsuits are super holey... and the shop hasn't received their shipment of winter suits yet.  I don't shop around... so I have to stay warm and wait.  I didn't go out for a surf tonight though... I checked a few beaches, but the onshore wind was pretty strong... besides which, I didn't have Bluepath... so I went for a climb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It had been over a week since I've climbed... I was the only one there... so the climbing gym dude belayed me... and gave me step by step instructions on two very familiar routes.  His instructions made those routes so difficult that I couldn't do them... in fact, it made them so difficult (and me so tired) that even when he told me to do my own thing, I kept getting lost and stuck, like I would on difficult routes that I had never been able to do.  I had no more strength in my hand grip by the end of the session.  So I guess I have to keep going... and often... until like Beowulf, my hand grip has the strength of 30 men.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During my short trip to Victoria earlier this month, I noticed that hoodies are not that common an article of clothing-- very few people, in fact, wear hoodies.  I used to know this... but having sartorially acclimatized myself to Tofino, I had forgotten that hoodies are, in North America, commonly considered the outerwear of choice for skaters, surfers, and criminals, rather than something owned and worn by a majority of the population, such as, let us say, a sweater.  Ever since I remembered this detail about the hoodie-free world in which I used to live, I have been mentally transposing hoodie wearers into various other environments, with great comic effect.  Picture a big mechanical arm coming out of the sky, picking up five people in hoodies from downtown Tofino, and dropping them at the intersection of Pender and Thurlow... the mechanical arm notwithstanding, this would turn heads-- half the hoodies would be on age and income inappropriate people.  I am performing these and other mental exercises in order to not get too lost in the far, far away planet of Tofino.  Always ask... "how would this look at the corner of Pender and Thurlow?"... normal here isn't normal elsewhere... it's good to try and remember.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1699988867522839721?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1699988867522839721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/still-sleep-deprived-apparently.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1699988867522839721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1699988867522839721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/still-sleep-deprived-apparently.html' title='Still sleep deprived, apparently.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4604274158820508390</id><published>2009-09-28T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T00:36:21.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back at the medic's</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBjl4Jv1MI/AAAAAAAAANM/icqM6J7eKIY/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzkuanBn%3F%3D-790867"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386414656714691778" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBjl4Jv1MI/AAAAAAAAANM/icqM6J7eKIY/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzkuanBn%3F%3D-790867" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bluepath is at the Board Medic getting looked after.  Remember how I said I got whacked in the head on Wednesday, and that it really hurt?  Well, as it turns out, I totally dinged Bluepath with my skull.  I'd forgotten all about checking for dings (just never had to, for all of these years)... and today, while I was being slow, DCMS was checking out the Bluepath.  He wanted to see the repairs that Stefan did last time, when I dropped my board on gravel... and then he found this huge ding!  At first, I wondered where the ding came from... but upon closer examination (and you can see this if you click on the photo)... there was a hair caught in the broken glass in that ding!  So DCMS helped me tape it up and we went for a surf... I caught one super awesome ride that was so fast, I couldn't walk to adjust where I was on the board, I hopped.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When Stefan saw the ding, he pressed on it, and found the whole ding to be mushy.  He's apparently going to have to backfill it, and put on new cloth.  I don't know exactly what that means... but he tells me that my head actually went into the board when it hit... the foam bounced back, but the glass is all broken and delaminated.  He was really surprised that I wasn't knocked out.  Apparently I have a hard head... I guess that's not news, is it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4604274158820508390?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4604274158820508390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-at-medics.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4604274158820508390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4604274158820508390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-at-medics.html' title='Back at the medic&apos;s'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBjl4Jv1MI/AAAAAAAAANM/icqM6J7eKIY/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzkuanBn%3F%3D-790867' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4533932674202958579</id><published>2009-09-27T22:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T00:19:34.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBHLFb0FyI/AAAAAAAAANE/HbHeDc8U9lg/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDEuanBn%3F%3D-716931"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386383410098083618" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBHLFb0FyI/AAAAAAAAANE/HbHeDc8U9lg/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDEuanBn%3F%3D-716931" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Remember how I said I had to check for dings? I didn't! I forgot all about it... and today, DCMS was looking at Bluepath and pointed out this huge ding, which he helped me tape up.&lt;br /&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4533932674202958579?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4533932674202958579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/bad-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4533932674202958579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4533932674202958579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/bad-wife.html' title='Bad Wife'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SsBHLFb0FyI/AAAAAAAAANE/HbHeDc8U9lg/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1NDEuanBn%3F%3D-716931' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-124650550956551991</id><published>2009-09-26T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T08:49:32.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Car le monde et les temps changent</title><content type='html'>ULTE1 parked on my driveway today.  In the two years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days since I met him... he had never once parked on my driveway.  I was a little surprised, and asked him whether there weren't other parking spots... he seemed amuse by my comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it means absolutely nothing, and he gave it no thought... but somehow, this goes against my understanding about where we park our cars.  Sure, I park in his driveway all the time... but I don't have five million of my friends living on his street and driving by his well-treed house twenty times a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sufficiently neurotic about this turn of events that DCMS is now crediting himself with having upset the delicate balance of my ULTE with ULTE1, which appears to me to be a skull-sized kingdom's ruler's assumption-- I doubt that ULTE1 pays enough attention to notice... and am attributing this to the cyclical oscillations that are inherent in LTEs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-124650550956551991?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/124650550956551991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/car-le-monde-et-le-temp-changent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/124650550956551991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/124650550956551991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/car-le-monde-et-le-temp-changent.html' title='Car le monde et les temps changent'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6489894201936792951</id><published>2009-09-25T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T17:32:34.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Perfect Excuse...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;We are one another's soul mates, but due to circumstances beyond our control, we could never be together; we will therefore remain alone for the rest of our days, subsisting on the knowledge that we are profoundly and steadfastly connected by the most intense and perfect love.  It's very Héloïse and Abélard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blargh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's an old story and a bad one.  Why do so many insist upon it?  To become more comfortably ensconced in our tiny, skull-sized kingdoms?  To justify being uniquely, completely, imperially alone, day after day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By definition, if it doesn't work, it isn't perfect.  So let's just all move on already.  I shall repeat this to myself during my surf session tonight-- the only thing that's perfect in this type of set up is the excuse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6489894201936792951?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6489894201936792951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/perfect-excuse.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6489894201936792951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6489894201936792951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/perfect-excuse.html' title='The Perfect Excuse...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4815671381367365259</id><published>2009-09-24T22:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T22:36:00.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Conditions Are Poor</title><content type='html'>WNW winds today... the Cox Bay parking lot was empty, so I didn't even bother checking.  I went straight to Long Beach... and, when I pulled into a parking spot at Incinerator, Ralph et al were standing and staring at the surf.  I walked up, said hi, glanced and the surf, said "whatever," and went back to my car.  "Are you going out in this?" Simon asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, what else am I going to do, stand here and watch?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that standing with people like that kills my stoke... so I had to go... that, and it gets dark early enough that I had o hurry.  I've recently realized that I've given up a whole lot to be out here... which means I had better make the best of it... every day.  I got suited up... waxed the Bluepath, and went straight in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have fun.  We'll take pictures."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was having an okay time... and then all three of them came out, one by one.  Ralph kept saying "The conditions are poor!" over and over again.  I was getting a little annoyed... what was he doing out if the conditions were so poor?  Later on, I understood that this was meant to take the pressure off his beginner friend... to let her know that she can't catch a wave because the conditions we poor, not because she just can't catch a wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except the conditions really weren't poor.  I got a few good rides, and would have had a few more good rides if I had been more focused.  I didn't get any new injuries today... didn't get hit in the head, didn't chip any teeth.  And Sam was out... so now I know that he is not always the harbinger of surf injuries.  My neck is still recovering from yesterday's whack in the head... which reminds me... I should check the Bluepath for skull dings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4815671381367365259?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4815671381367365259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/conditions-are-poor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4815671381367365259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4815671381367365259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/conditions-are-poor.html' title='The Conditions Are Poor'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1283082285638474885</id><published>2009-09-23T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T21:33:41.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitely Not Ping-Pong</title><content type='html'>I got out without even getting my hair wet today.  4 ft on 10 seconds.  Got some fun rides... enjoyed some good company... good conversation... and then Bluepath totally whacked me in the head.  This time, it was a sidelong assault... I got hit so hard I couldn't even figure out which side I got hit on.  Sam tells me that the wave pretty much broke right on my back as I was going for it.  Incidentally, I was also talking with Sam shortly before I chipped my tooth... maybe he is the harbinger of surf injuries?  For now... I am insanely paranoid about detached retinas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTE1 insists that my chipped tooth is barely noticeable (which means very little, since one of the first things I noticed about ULTE1 almost three years ago was that he had a chipped tooth-- the same one as mine, incidentally... but much more severe.... apparently from a car accident).  He said if I were really worried about it, I could wear a mouth guard... but of course, he said, I would never do that because it would be absolutely ridiculous.  Indeed, it would be.  Another friend wondered why we don't wear helmets... she says some people do wear helmets at Twin Rivers for the rocks... but not here.  We concluded, however, that surfing is what it is, and even with a helmet and a mouth guard, one could still get hit in the face... which means one would have to wear a helmet with a face shield... and then... you might as well surf with hockey gear on.  This isn't ping-pong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, buddy with the skull cap seems to have changed into his hooded winter suit.  I thought I heard him yell something at me in the surf, but I turned and looked and saw no skull caps.  This dude who looked like him said something to me... but since his hood was attached, I couldn't be sure if it was him.  It turns out it was, because I matched the board to the car later on in the parking lot (it's a Trevor, same colour as Trevor I, but a 94).  I think I am seriously suffering from visual agnosia... or, more particularly, prosopagnosia... I didn't recognise DCMS when he first turfed the mustache, either.  Maybe I should see a neurologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New word for the day:  unhingèdness-- the quality or state of being unhinged.  &lt;em&gt;His unhingèdness is a detriment to his business.  Her unhingèdness deters suitors.  Too bad, were it not for his unhingèdness, we would be fast friends.&lt;/em&gt; &amp;c.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1283082285638474885?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1283082285638474885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/definitely-not-ping-pong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1283082285638474885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1283082285638474885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/definitely-not-ping-pong.html' title='Definitely Not Ping-Pong'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1345285581779632520</id><published>2009-09-22T20:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T22:41:15.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cox Bay Death Paddle</title><content type='html'>Him: You're going out again?  The chipped tooth wasn't enough?&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Enough for what?  This isn't ping pong.  2m on 12 sec and ESE winds?  Of course I'm going out again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got out again today.  Paddled forever, but got out... and in one piece and with no new injuries (though I have a pretty healthy collection of old ones).  I didn't catch any good rides... but I was out there!  As it turns out, you don't even have to catch a wave to be on top of the world... just get past the break at Cox Bay and it's close enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of the day freaking out about my chipped tooth.  I've made a dentist appointment for next wednesday morning in port alberni to get it fixed.  I suspect they're just going to file it down... I can't see them filling in such a small piece of missing tooth... they'd probably have to scratch it up some more to get anything to stick to it... and I'm not sure I want my teeth scratched up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two guests from Brittany staying here.  The dude is a surfer... and his girlfriend doesn't speak English at all... so it's been interesting to note that despite the fact that I don't know any French surf terms, I'm able to have a pretty good conversation about surfing in French... but I guess the fact that the surfboard m'a cassé une dent would make good conversation in any language.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1345285581779632520?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1345285581779632520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/cox-bay-death-paddle.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1345285581779632520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1345285581779632520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/cox-bay-death-paddle.html' title='Cox Bay Death Paddle'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6453340598707583415</id><published>2009-09-22T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T11:45:44.254-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FREAKING  OUT!!</title><content type='html'>HOLY CRAP!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt this rough spot on my right maxillary central incisor... and went and looked in the mirror... and saw that I chipped a tooth!!! ACK!!!!  I chipped a tooth!!! BLARGH!!!!!  I CHIPPED A TOOTH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!!!!! A CHIPPED TOOTH!!!  I CHIPPED A TOOTH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD I CHIPPED A TOOTH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how it happened... with my overbite... how did I manage to chip the front of that tooth???  Did I chip the tooth on my board?  Does my board have a ding in it from my tooth?  WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?!?! AAAARRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6453340598707583415?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6453340598707583415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/freaking-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6453340598707583415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6453340598707583415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/freaking-out.html' title='FREAKING &lt;b&gt; OUT&lt;/b&gt;!!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3371466599810669667</id><published>2009-09-21T23:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T00:41:46.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slightly mis-aligned</title><content type='html'>Today was supposedly a day for doing school work... but I was so tired that I ended up dropping one of my courses instead.  I could probably get it all done... but I gave it some thought and I just don't feel like stretching that much... and for what... to finish a degree in two years?  I've done the must-get-done-as-quickly-as-humanly-possible thing before... and I could probably do it again... but why, if it's going to take out what little joy there is in life to get it done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the last day for dropping  a course for a 100% refund... so I dropped the public sector governance course and kept the microeconomics course.  Yay me for recognising that a full time job, a business, and two courses is too much to get done... or at least too much to get done and still surf and live a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't going to go for a surf today though... I was simply too tired.  Hiking the wild side on two hours of sleep was ill advised.  Actually, doing anything on two hours of sleep is ill advised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But DCMS called me just before 6 and asked if I wanted to go for a surf... well, I always &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to go for a surf, but I wasn't feeling like I should, being completely exhausted and barely able to move about.  He convinced me to go (mainly, I suspect, because he wanted to go for a surf and wanted me to give him a ride... but that's all good, because I need all the push I can get to get out there everyday)... and we went to Cox.  We didn't check... Cox was supposed to be good according to the reports and the rumours... so we got suited up and went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I saw the surf, I felt that I had made a terrible mistake.  It looked exactly like that impossible paddle out on Friday.  We were told to go left in the parking lot... so we walked left... and as I was walking, I was thinking that this might be another one of those days when I have to give up on getting out... especially since I was so incredibly tired.  DCMS said "I'm going in"... and I replied "I can't see this ending well!"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paddled... and paddled... and caught up to DCMS... and paddled... and paddled... and got half a wave ahead of him... and paddled, and paddled... and got a wave or two ahead of him... lost sight of him... kept paddling... and as I paddled, saw ralph catch this perfect ride on his 12' board... encouraged, I kept going.. and going... and soon enough, I was out.  It wasn't easy... but it didn't feel impossible, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught a super fast right-- it was so fast I couldn't do much of anything... just adjusted my stance and shifted enough that I could stay on it and be in the right place on the wave... until it closed out.  Then I caught a super fast left-- I was too far forward on the board, so turning was difficult... but I was going so fast that I didn't feel that I could get to the back of the board... I turned up and down the wave impressively many times (impressive to me, anyway)... and then there were two surfers coming up that I wasn't absolutely confident I could get around, so I turned up the wave and pulled off the back, and sat down on my board with what seemed like perfect control... the dude that I could have run over (or maybe got around), said "Nice...." to which I responded with a short "Woohoo" and paddled back out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were definitely good rides to be had... and I ended up chatting with someone I know but hadn't seen in a while... he has a very similar looking board... blue, two stringers... but much smaller... I think he said it was a 9'6".  While we were chatting, I saw this gigantic wave crashing waaay outside, there were still two waves in between us and it.  We paddled out past the two waves, each of which amost crashed right on us... in front of the big crasher, I turned around and held on to my board with a Beowulf grip.  I survived the first crasher... and the second... and the third... it was a gigantic clean up set... the biggest I'd seen in recent memory... quite possibly simply the biggest I've ever seen.  The fourth and last one got my board and flipped it... the tail hitting me in the chin and slamming my jaw shut.  That was the last wave of the clean up set though... and I paddled back out and we confirmed that no one died in that one... contrary to expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chin wasn't bleeding... but my teeth all felt funny.  As it was getting dark, I decided to go in.  I caught one in and started walking to the trail.  DCMS was already on the beach.  He ran into the water to rinse his board off, then caught up to me.  Apparently, he didn't get out... paddled hard but drifted down the beach before making it out and gave up... and sat on the beach and watched the sunset instead.... I was a little surprised.  He gave up... and I got out.  He's far better a surfer than I am... but couldn't make it out and gave up... there's something unbelievable about that.  I can't believe that I got out when I didn't think I would... and had a great session despite being exhausted before I even started.  I've never been the surfer who had a great session while someone else couldn't make it out and stayed inside or on the beach... I'd always been the one who couldn't make it out... mainly because I've always been the weaker surfer.  I still am the weaker surfer in this pair (not that we're a pair)... so this is something entirely new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also new is my slightly mis-aligned jaw and aching ear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3371466599810669667?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3371466599810669667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/slightly-mis-aligned.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3371466599810669667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3371466599810669667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/slightly-mis-aligned.html' title='Slightly mis-aligned'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-9217032459547763370</id><published>2009-09-21T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T00:43:43.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping the stars apart</title><content type='html'>The day after giving up paddling out at Cox Bay, I went and checked the surf at North as ULTE1 suggested... there was nothing going on... so I went and checked Cox... it looked exactly as it did the day before... and knowing that it was a southwest swell, I went to check Long Beach.  I parked at incinerator, and didn't even bother to get out of my car.  I had the car door open, and stared at the surf, which didn't look as if it was offering any rides, never mind good, chill-out, long ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buddy with the skullcap (the one Karen mistook for BNs) walks over to my car and asks why I'm sitting in my car and not surfing when there are the excellent lefts out there for my big blue board.  I tell him that I don't see any rides.  He tells me I'm jaded.  I explain that I am somewhat used up from the evening before at Cox Bay, when I got swept all the way to the land of the lefts without being able to get out.  He tells me that he was there with me (in an oddly ominous voice) and that it really was rough out there.  The back and forth continues for a bit... and he convinces me to go out, despite that I wasn't really feeling it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out at incinerator, and paddled and paddled and in no time at all, I was right by Lovekin Rock and still five million waves from getting out.  Dammit.  Two nights in a row.  I couldn't give up though... not two nights in a row... not at two different beaches.  I kept trying to get out, growing increasingly resentful at buddy with the skullcap who convinced me to go for a surf, thereby putting me in the situation of having to give up two nights in a row.  As I got closer and closer to Lovekin and nowhere near being able to get out, I caught a broken wave in and walked into the beach.  I was tired... used up... and by then, jaded, in just about every sense of the word.  I couldn't give up though... if I gave up two nights in a row suffering such demoralizing defeat, who knew what it would take to get me back out in the surf the next time... so I walked the 50lb Bluepath all the way down past incinerator and tried again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I did though, I was almost too tired to paddle for a wave... which was too bad, because there actually were good rides to be had... I watched a while, went for a few, and when I got a ride that ended on the inside, left-- utterly used up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening, I went home, showered, and made macaroons and cookies to bring to Alec and Darlene in Ahousaht.  Laura and I caught a really early water taxi and went for a walk on the Wild Side.  I dropped off the cookies and macaroons, along with a thank you card from DCMS (which was odd and a little difficult to wrap my head around... because for reasons that I'm not yet able to understand, it seemed really important to me to somehow convey the fact that DCMS and I are not together... it's a moot point, really... but still... it seems important to me to let these people who do no know me know that I'm not with him.  They have no reason to believe that we're not together, and so I have no way of introducing the idea that we aren't, especially since it's a detail of no importance to anyone.  And it isn't so much about me not wanting to be associated with DCMS as it is about me not wanting to be associated with anyone.  I can't even conjure up an image of someone with whom I would want to be associated...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to the first open beach past the creek after Kutcous Point.  This beach is probably my favourite on the trail.  It's the first beach after a long stretch in the woods... it's beautiful when one arrives there... but when one climbs the rock and looks down upon it, it becomes something entirely different again.  I don't know what the name of that beach is... but that's where I took the photo from yesterday, and where I took the shoe photo last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hiking with Laura is pretty chilled out... she decided that we should take a nap on that ledge and turn back.  Having only had two hours of sleep that night, I quickly fell asleep on that rocky ledge.  We got back to the dock before 3PM, leaving plenty of time to catch a water taxi.  On our way back through the village, a big black dog fell in love with Laura, and followed her all the way to the dock, and stayed, and looked longingly at her as our water taxi pulled away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am still too tired today for anything.  I shall spend the rest of my day reading my economics textbook... which is a good thing... because I am terribly, terribly behind on my school work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-9217032459547763370?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/9217032459547763370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/keeping-stars-apart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9217032459547763370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9217032459547763370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/keeping-stars-apart.html' title='Keeping the stars apart'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2350100175035430412</id><published>2009-09-20T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T12:28:46.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So. Tired.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SrbQEJydd2I/AAAAAAAAAM8/6wKGwQADcm0/s1600-h/DSC00427.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 105px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SrbQEJydd2I/AAAAAAAAAM8/6wKGwQADcm0/s400/DSC00427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383719174333626210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture I took with my sony ericsson phone on the Wild Side Trail today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2350100175035430412?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2350100175035430412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-tired.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2350100175035430412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2350100175035430412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-tired.html' title='So. Tired.'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SrbQEJydd2I/AAAAAAAAAM8/6wKGwQADcm0/s72-c/DSC00427.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6888507996389719997</id><published>2009-09-19T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T08:59:43.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The beginning of the end?!?!?!!!</title><content type='html'>OH NO!  I gave up trying to get outside at Cox Bay yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was rainy hard enough to feel like a wintery day.  The surf was around 2m high, which is big... but not that big.  DCMS checked North, and we decided to surf at Cox.  I went out with Bluepath straight into the surf from the access at 1431... and I kept paddling out... and paddling out... and, at first, it didn't seem to be that difficult a paddle... I was having no trouble keeping up with DCMS, which is unusual for me, because usually, when I paddle out with some guy, I'm so many waves behind that I can't even see him... and by the time I get out, it looks like they've been sitting there forever-- this isn't necessarily true, but it feels true.  Yesterday, for the most part, he was only about half a wave ahead of me.  I kept paddling out... and... eventually, he got a wave or two ahead of me... then I see him take a broken wave right into the beach.  I re-evaluate... look around... and find that I've drifted so far down the beach that I am almost at the land of the lefts... nay, that I &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; at the land of the lefts!  I wanted to keep going... because it didn't look impossible... and I didn't want to give up... but as I got even further into the land of the lefts and making no progress to the outside, I got a broken wave in and walked over to DCMS, "what are you doing?"  I asked.  "Going to get some rides at North."  I looked at the surf again... I could stay and keep fighting... but I wanted to get rides... so I went to North.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up.  It was the first time I gave up this season.  It was the first time I gave up on the Bluepath.  I gave up.  And it wasn't giving up &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; I got out... it was giving up before I even got out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to North... I got crappy close out rides.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6888507996389719997?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6888507996389719997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/beginning-of-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6888507996389719997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6888507996389719997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/beginning-of-end.html' title='The beginning of the end?!?!?!!!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2090176773912500592</id><published>2009-09-18T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T13:20:48.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote</title><content type='html'>&amp;quot;World Peace Day?  I&amp;#39;m off on Monday, I can spend all day in the pot tent!&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2090176773912500592?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2090176773912500592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/quote_18.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2090176773912500592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2090176773912500592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/quote_18.html' title='Quote'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5092627609173567822</id><published>2009-09-17T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:48:31.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote</title><content type='html'>&amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m not even willing to give up brown rice for you... and I don&amp;#39;t even like brown rice!&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5092627609173567822?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5092627609173567822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/quote.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5092627609173567822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5092627609173567822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/quote.html' title='Quote'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5720620645154856338</id><published>2009-09-17T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:20:34.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Focus</title><content type='html'>Uh oh.  I'm not surfing enough.  I need to surf more.  I must go surfing tomorrow.  I must go surfing tomorrow.  I must go surfing tomorrow.  If I took a 30K pay cut to be here, I'd better be surfing every day... maybe even twice a day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been distracted and not surfing everyday.  I was on Flores all day on Sunday (yes, I stayed overnight in a small village that has confirmed cases of swine flu; no, I am not concerned) and was hanging out with DCMS on Monday night debating the finer points of semantics.  Tuesday was a disappointing surf day with microwaves and lots of shortboarders.  Wedenesday was... yesterday... I had a Care Bear play date with a friend's 4 year old.  I still feel the same as I always have about children, but this kid is pretty cool.  She's 4, speaks in grammatically correct full sentences, and loves Care Bears.  I brought my 8 Care Bears over and we had a Care Bear night... watched the Care Bear Big Wish Movie and coloured Care Bear colouring pages with wax crayons... I went home with 7 Care Bears-- this is progress in putting aside childish things... which seems somehow important seeing as I'm turning 30 in a few months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was dinner with a bunch of work friends and then climbing.  I haven't climbed in I don't know how long... and I was really feeling it.  But it was probably also sleep deprivation.  I didn't end up going to bed yesterday until 2AM... busily learning the difference between fuckiness and non-fuckiness... and being grateful for that which is comfortable, familiar, and drama-free.  Anything more complicated than absolutely straightforward is going to detract from my focus... and that's what I need right now... focus on surfing every day.  Every day.  EVERY day... starting tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5720620645154856338?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5720620645154856338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/focus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5720620645154856338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5720620645154856338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/focus.html' title='Focus'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4525135531783444052</id><published>2009-09-16T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T16:59:03.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cheque is in the Mail</title><content type='html'>I got an e-mail from my old compensation advisor today telling me that my annual leave has been cashed out and that I'll be receiving a cheque in the mail soon.  I asked her how much I should be expecting... it was a surprisingly large amount, especially since I used up as much of my leave as I could prior to leaving that job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I looked up the rate of pay for my old job... and then had to spend the rest of the afternoon repeating the phrase "I am perfectly happy here"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I took a pay cut to come here... but I didn't know that it's a $30,000 pay cut.  Holy crap... intel analysts get paid way too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly happy here...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4525135531783444052?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4525135531783444052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/cheque-is-in-mail.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4525135531783444052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4525135531783444052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/cheque-is-in-mail.html' title='The Cheque is in the Mail'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-9018091056121232725</id><published>2009-09-15T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T14:21:09.179-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It is in my nature...</title><content type='html'>I can't stop procrastinating!  I should be doing work on public governance and microeconomics, but instead, all I want to do is talk on the phone and write on here.  I don't know what the rest of the week is going to look like... but one thing is for sure, that power outage taught me nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been giving my perfect day a lot of thought... and I want to retell the story from the beginning.  But to jump ahead for a second... I went out for a surf tonight in the microwaves.  It was probably the most disappointing surf since June.  It was small and crowded... and I ran into SAIS in the parking lot.  I wasn't very friendly... I'm afraid I might be harbouring a bit of resentment about his role in the thwarted sticker bombing... that, and I find his conversation dull and uninteresting-- there is nothing about either his nor my B&amp;amp;B that interests me enough to be a topic of conversation.  In fact, at this time of the year, I'm sufficiently done with it that I find myself almost pretending that I don't have a B&amp;amp;B to run.  But never mind all that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did I end up having to rely on the kindess of strangers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have, as evidenced by an earlier entry on here, considered the possibility of getting stuck in Ahousaht and not being able to get back to Tofino before even committing to going on this hike.  I knew that it was a possibility... but chose to do nothing about it.  This was due mostly to the fact that I've been trying something different lately.  I decided to train myself to count on other people... and DCMS, being a far superior outdoorsman, seems to me to be the perfect person with whom to complete this training exercise.  To this end, I did a few things differently.  First, I left the transportation details to him entirely.  Second, I did not research the route we are taking, except for to find out how long it is.  Third, I decided to under-pack for the hike, despite that I always over-pack with emergency supplies and extras for others.  Previously, people counted on me to be prepared... now, it was my turn to count on someone else.  Without consultation or coordination, I assumed that he would be packing the emergency supplies.  I brought only what was personally required for myself, with nothing for contingency.  My assumptions proved to be correct very early on.  DCMS had packed everything, up to and including a neck brace-- seriously.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is more control than I have ever relinquished.  Surprisingly, it wasn't all that difficult.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On one of the many beaches we walked on, there  were many moonsnail shells strewn about.  I have not been one to take things away from beaches... but while on this beach, I thought it would be an excellent idea to take a moonsnail shell back to Tofino to send it to Tina, who would then be obligated to bring it back to Flores Island.  I haven't heard from her in far too long... so I decided to poach this shell and make her come out.  Of course, I've got to get it to the post office first... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to go back to that trail again, and-- I can hardly believe I'm saying this-- would probably camp for a night in order to spend more time on the beaches.  On our way there, I was looking forward to seeing every beach again on the way back... but because DCMS was seriously limping by the time we got to the end-- he was really not in a good way... walking with two sticks and took up my offer to carry his pack for him (this was actually a little impressive, almost every guy I know would have been too macho and stupid to hand it over)-- we didn't come back the same way we went out... so now I feel like I'm not quite done and want to go back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As much as this was an exercise for me in relinquishing control, I believe it was an exercise for DCMS is figuring out what to do with me... I was stuck in his "to sort" pile and didn't quite fit in any of the categories with which he organizes the people in his life.  It felt at times like he was testing the properties of an unknown substance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I had to back-date this post... I fell asleep while composing it... and I'm not likely to finish it any time soon... this is bad... I'm bordering on narcoleptic...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-9018091056121232725?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/9018091056121232725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-is-in-my-nature.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9018091056121232725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9018091056121232725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-is-in-my-nature.html' title='It is in my nature...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3846452765934328386</id><published>2009-09-14T14:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T14:33:24.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Photo from Somewhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq62pOOgG5I/AAAAAAAAAM0/zKYkF5CCQ2o/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzIuanBn%3F%3D-704438"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq62pOOgG5I/AAAAAAAAAM0/zKYkF5CCQ2o/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzIuanBn%3F%3D-704438"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381439424064134034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I don&amp;#39;t know the name of this beach, but it was one of many on the Wild Side Trail on Flores.  A perfect spot to stop for lunch, and take a shoe picture-- first one in years.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3846452765934328386?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3846452765934328386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/photo-from-somewhere.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3846452765934328386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3846452765934328386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/photo-from-somewhere.html' title='A Photo from Somewhere'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq62pOOgG5I/AAAAAAAAAM0/zKYkF5CCQ2o/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzIuanBn%3F%3D-704438' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7444010189115272312</id><published>2009-09-13T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T13:13:19.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Perfect Day</title><content type='html'>So... DCMS and I decided to do the Wild Side Trail on Flores Island.  This trail starts in the village of Ahousaht, a first nations reserve, links together a series of remote sandy beaches, and ends 11kms later in Cow Bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had originally agreed to meet at the 1st Street Dock at 8:45... but he hit the snooze button a few times too many and we were delayed by about a half hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trail was beautifully designed and maintained, and led to many inspiring places.  The hike presented me with beauty beyond what I knew to hope for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we got to the end, DCMS's right knee began protesting.  He decided to drag it along despite its protests, and, while we managed to get to the end, the return trip was less pleasant due to increasing pain and decreasing mobility.  I was enjoying the leisurely pace, but would have enjoyed it more had it not stemmed from the suffering of another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got back to the village and near the dock, we ran into a man walking a pack of dogs (this is quite accurate and there's no exaggeration).  DCMS asked him how to go about getting a water taxi back to Tofino, and was informed that all the water taxis have already left.  The man with the dogs, Alec, invited us to his home and tried to radio a water taxi for us.  None, however, was to be had.  Alec and his wife, Darlene, gave us tea and bread (with everything that one could conceivably put on bread and in tea) and invited us to spend the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am composing this note in their guest bed.  Their generousness moves me profoundly.  I am filled with gratitude for the kindness of strangers.  I am stuck in Ahousaht, and I am grateful for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the rest, I guess I'll have to figure it out tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7444010189115272312?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7444010189115272312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/perfect-day.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7444010189115272312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7444010189115272312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/perfect-day.html' title='A Perfect Day'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-8075087980854308238</id><published>2009-09-13T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T09:05:35.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to Flores with Godot</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq0YT8-NjFI/AAAAAAAAAMs/PpEzWp15Q1Q/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzEuanBn%3F%3D-735284"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq0YT8-NjFI/AAAAAAAAAMs/PpEzWp15Q1Q/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzEuanBn%3F%3D-735284"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380983860841253970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-8075087980854308238?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/8075087980854308238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/going-to-flores-with-godot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8075087980854308238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/8075087980854308238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/going-to-flores-with-godot.html' title='Going to Flores with Godot'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/Sq0YT8-NjFI/AAAAAAAAAMs/PpEzWp15Q1Q/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzEuanBn%3F%3D-735284' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-489490277606708016</id><published>2009-09-13T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T01:22:50.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New leash...</title><content type='html'>I'm happy to report that I have managed to log in to those courses and actually get some work done today.  I am a little horrified at how seriously everyone takes themselves on the forums... but I guess I had suspected all along that this would be the case... which is why I procrastinated so long on logging in (okay, this, and because it is in my nature).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a day of getting work done and being productive, I went for a surf with DCMS, whom I'm seeing quite often because his car is still being repaired out of town.  When he grabbed his shortboard, he said "So when are you going to start shortboarding?"  My god!  That is the most offensive question I've heard in a long time... "Never.  Does never work for you?"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got to Long Beach... and once in the water, we went our separate ways.  I have an 11' board that can easily kill people... so when it's big and therefore likely that I wont' be able to hang on to my board, I forgo the sweet spot and go where I have plenty of room.  The surf was big... and there were plenty of closeouts.  There were quite a few times when I couldn't hang on to my board... which bounced in the foam while attached to my ankle by a 10' leash... one time, I could see it dance around on the end of the leash... and, when the wave finally let go of my board, it didn't bounce back to me... because the leash had no more elasticity to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught two excellent rides... both were rights, which I'm not as good at as lefts... but I managed to make some bottom turns and generally be in control of my ride... it was super cool.  It started getting dark, and I wasn't going to be able to make it back out past the break that one last time and catch another wave before it went pitch black (oh, and by the way, Orion is back in the sky)... so I went in.  DCMS was waiting at my car...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- How was your surf?&lt;br /&gt;Him- It was more of a paddle.&lt;br /&gt;Me- But did you get any good rides?&lt;br /&gt;Him- No rides.&lt;br /&gt;Me- No rides??&lt;br /&gt;Him- No rides.&lt;br /&gt;Me- Longboard 1, Shortboard 0!!&lt;br /&gt;Him- You got a ride?&lt;br /&gt;Me- No... actually, Longboard 2, Shortboard 0!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mwahahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A better surfer than I caught nothing on a shortboard... while I had two awesome rides... ha!  The only thing that I need to really figure out is how to hang on to this board... DCMS figures I won't be able to do it no matter how hard I try... I don't agree.  there's got to be a way.  I just need to ask the right person for that one missing detail and then figure it out for myself.  In the meanwhile, i think I should look into buying a new leash... this one is a foot longer than it used to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-489490277606708016?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/489490277606708016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-leash.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/489490277606708016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/489490277606708016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-leash.html' title='New leash...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-6650356495221534273</id><published>2009-09-12T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T09:45:52.608-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Breakfast Note</title><content type='html'>Three separate breakfast seatings today... and just close enough to the end of the season that I am coming up short on enthusiasm... especially since the last seating is for a couple of grinders-- grouse grinders!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, for the first time in a long time, well rested.  The early-setting sun forced me out of the surf before 8:30... Bill and his wife were on the beach with their dog... they stood by the rock and waited for me to walk by to ask me how the surf was... it was so dark I couldn't even see who they were until I got within 15 feet of them.  The surf was okay.  It was supposedly really big. I saw ULTE1 in the afternoon... he told me that he was out twice at North, and the waves were board-breakingly punchy... I expressed my reservations, and he told me I will be perfectly happy at Esowista, that I'm not going to die, that I'm not going to kill anyone else, and that I should go out.  I don't think ULTE1 has ever told me I should surf before.  So I went... it was really big at Long Beach... but Esowista was manageable... in fact, I got out super easily.  There were good peeling waves every now and then... but most were closeouts.  I didn't get killed, but got pretty close.  It would have been a worthwhile session had I gone out earlier... there was a lot of waiting involved... and it got dark too quickly.  It was also the coldest it has been all year.  The water was very clear... and very very cold.  It was definitely a glove day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I really must log in and start those MPA courses... and soon, too.  Karen is coming out this weekend... and I am considering doing the Wild Side Trail from Ahousaht to Cow Bay tomorrow... it's 10kms... which I can't even conceptualize anymore after all the time I've spent in Tofino.  I remember that panorama ridge was a 32km round trip day hike... but what's 20 km?  How long is Mount Seymour? or Strachan? or Matier?  I can't remember... can't can't can't... not even Elfin, which I'd done so many times... and what if I miss the boat?  From what I've heard, I really don't want to get stuck in Ahousaht.  This isn't a situation in which I know enough to be fully in control... and I'm not sure I really want to get into a situation like that... my resistance to count on anyone else is pathological.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-6650356495221534273?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/6650356495221534273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/broken-breakfast-note.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6650356495221534273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/6650356495221534273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/broken-breakfast-note.html' title='Broken Breakfast Note'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-4107977038082259523</id><published>2009-09-11T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T17:59:33.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling Behind</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Day before yesterday... (my constantly referring to events of days past instead of events of the day is a good indicator that I am running behind)... the assignment was due at midnight.  I was 75% done when the power went out at 4:30.  Since this is not an unusual occurrence (careless drivers and power poles), I decided to go for a surf...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As there was good surf and no power, everyone and all their dogs were out.  Cox was super crowded with locals.  No one likes to surf in a crowd... but for me, there is the added discomfort of being surrounded by people whom I cannot recognise but who know me by name.  It makes me wonder if I'm suffering from visual agnosia... which, as I've mentioned earlier, is a symptom of Klüver-Bucy Syndrome... frightening!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got out of the surf, there was still no power.  I made a few calls, and found out that there was no power from Tofino to Campbell River-- apparently an entire substation failed somewhere near Comox-- and that the estimated time of resolution was 10:30PM.  It was too close... so I got ready to drive to Nanaimo to finish and send off the assignment... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On my way out of town on the 2.5hr drive in search of electricity, I noticed that one of the hotels has full generator power... so I went there and plugged in... and Iwas going to mess around with downloading a file onto the blackberry via USB cable so that I could send it off... as it turns out they even had a working unsecured wireless connection!  I hung out at the lobby and did my work while trying to ignore this 20 year old kid who kept trying to engage me in conversation, and-- this is actually a little amusing-- offered to help me with my writing assignment.  After hours of this torture, I went to go get dinner.  DCMS had invited me to join him at &lt;i&gt;Way Worse&lt;/i&gt; earlier, so I called him-- it was 10:55, the kitchen closes at 11, and I was 7 minutes away... so I got him to order me a tuna burger and went and ate and watched DCMS play pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've had some time to think about it, I realized that small town life has managed to wear me down: two years ago, I responded with an appropriate measure of horror to an invitation from a dude to "watch [him] play floor hockey"... and now, the lameness of watching DCMS play pool didn't even cause the slightest of alarm... but perhaps I was just there for the tuna burger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As part of his psychological warfare is sleep deprivation, I didn't get to bed till after 4AM.  After two hours of sleep, I got up and made breakfast, went to work, and then immediately went for a surf.  I was tired, but one is never too tired for glassy chest high peeling waves at Cox.  I had a pretty good session... and as I was packing up my board to go home, DCMS walked into the parking lot... he must have gotten in and out after I did.  He said hi, I said hi, and then I got the hell out of there... quickly.  And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; is how attachment disordered I am... for a few days, I thought it might be different... I thought &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; might be different.  But people don't change, do they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went for dinner with a friend, and then later fell asleep over ten times while composing an e-mail... it wasn't even a long one... I was just that tired.  I didn't even manage to get started on the second e-mail... or make that phone call.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, I just fell asleep while writing this... I'm going to get some dinner and go for a surf... that's the one place where one does not fall asleep.... and especially not tonight... 2.5m on 14 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-4107977038082259523?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/4107977038082259523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/falling-behind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4107977038082259523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/4107977038082259523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/falling-behind.html' title='Falling Behind'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-3903513100906807446</id><published>2009-09-09T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T17:00:35.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New reason not to procrastinate</title><content type='html'>Stupid tourists who don&amp;#39;t know how to drive and take down power poles.&lt;p&gt;BLARGH!!!!&lt;p&gt;I hope to not have to drive to Port Alberni to send off this assignment by midnight.  Anyone know how to get a word doc downloaded onto a blackberry?  E-mail me if you do.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-3903513100906807446?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/3903513100906807446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-reason-not-to-procrastinate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3903513100906807446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/3903513100906807446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-reason-not-to-procrastinate.html' title='New reason not to procrastinate'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-9206198972831753025</id><published>2009-09-08T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T22:33:22.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't speak English...</title><content type='html'>E-mail and phone messages are piling up.  Piling.  I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall get to them soon... but now is a time wherein I either sleep or die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-9206198972831753025?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/9206198972831753025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-dont-speak-english.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9206198972831753025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/9206198972831753025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-dont-speak-english.html' title='I don&apos;t speak English...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-2381658696109259189</id><published>2009-09-04T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T13:28:28.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality Check</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SqF4bAkamjI/AAAAAAAAAMM/THdyv-ZS0r8/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzAuanBn%3F%3D-708522"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SqF4bAkamjI/AAAAAAAAAMM/THdyv-ZS0r8/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzAuanBn%3F%3D-708522"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377711835461622322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;UVic has a rabbit infestation: true.&lt;br&gt;Everyone wears hoodies: false.&lt;br&gt;Tall guys who casually use the word &amp;quot;Foucaultian&amp;quot; are hot: cannot be verified at this time.&lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-2381658696109259189?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/2381658696109259189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/reality-check.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2381658696109259189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/2381658696109259189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/reality-check.html' title='Reality Check'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/SqF4bAkamjI/AAAAAAAAAMM/THdyv-ZS0r8/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDA1MzAuanBn%3F%3D-708522' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1292909082578884536</id><published>2009-09-01T00:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T00:18:07.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good Stuff...</title><content type='html'>I've been surfing and climbing to exhaustion.  Surfing hard... and climbing hard.  It's all good... but what's been missing is the sort of beauty that can only be found at the Met, Covent Garden, or La Scala... thank god there's youtube.  Check out Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Renee Fleming singing &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CACsWYcShrk"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lippen Schweigen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iZHwbxLBO0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La ci darem la mano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  These two act amazingly even at a recital.  This version of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lippen Schweigen&lt;/span&gt; kills me.  I can't imagine watching these two act the whole thing out... it'd be so beautiful that I think my mind would explode from sensory overload.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1292909082578884536?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1292909082578884536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-stuff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1292909082578884536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1292909082578884536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-stuff.html' title='The Good Stuff...'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5207889687398784804</id><published>2009-08-28T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T22:35:29.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing Stoke</title><content type='html'>I wanted to go for a surf tonight... but then I also didn't want to go for a surf.  What I wanted was long, clean lines of glassy, peeling waves that go on and on.  I wasn't quite committed to going out in dumpy bad surf, getting beaten up, and not catching any good rides.  There are days when I do commit to going out in any condition, and then end up having a great time despite my expectation to the contrary... I've been pleasantly surprised in messy surf, big surf, and tiny surf.  Tonight, though, I wasn't so committed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped at the north end of North.  It didn't look great, but I ended up talking to a totally stoked American, who convinced me to at least check out the south end of North.  His stoke helped.  But there wasn't a parking spot at Mid, so I drove to South instead of the south end of North.  South didn't look good... but I made a u-turn and drove back to the south end of North, and walked out and looked.  It didn't look all that great.  I stood there for quite a while, unable to make up my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After watching for a bit and realizing that I wasn't going to be doing anything else if I didn't go out, I decided to go out even if it wasn't going to be great.  It looked cold... so I put on my booties for the first time since June.  I paddled out... got out surprisingly easily (I must be getting better at this)... and waited and waited and waited.  It wasn't all that great for what seemed like forever... I caught a few close outs... and successfully made a huge drop which I for some reason barely felt (maybe I was in the air for a bit, I didn't feel the wave under me)... it wasn't a bad session... but it wasn't a super fun one for the first half... but because I was wearing booties, I was very warm and was able to stay out comfortably... then the surf got better, and I started getting much better rides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, I caught a peeling wave, and as I popped up, cameras on the beach started flashing at me... and there must have been over ten flashes aimed at me for the first few seconds of my ride.  Tofino is, for the moment, filled with tourists.... and I am as watchable as a seal.  Somewhere out there are pictures of me surfing that I shall never see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter is coming... and I had better figure out how I'm going to keep the stoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5207889687398784804?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5207889687398784804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/losing-stoke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5207889687398784804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5207889687398784804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/losing-stoke.html' title='Losing Stoke'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-5537654871584843705</id><published>2009-08-27T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T23:41:50.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving up</title><content type='html'>Here's another first:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I gave up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to North Chesterman after work today... the swell was 11.9ft according to the surf report.  I went out, worked really hard to get out, got out, sat for a while, and after watching one gigantic wave after another come in and not break in any rideable way, I gave up, and paddled back to the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that I wasn't going to get any good rides in gigantic, big, dumpy surf... so I left to go check out other beaches.  I went and checked South.  At the end of the trail, I saw Ralph, who said there will be no surfing for him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to not go out and get killed and not get any rides.  So for the first time since I've been with Bluepath, I gave up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home, got out of my wetsuit, put on a pair of jeans, and went to check out this climbing gym that a friend has been trying to get me to go to (who has the time, with all the good surf we've been having?)... so I went there and climbed.  I'm climbing way better than I have ever climbed before... not that I've done a lot of climbing before... but I surprised myself.  All the paddling must have improved my upper body strength... I was pretty impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good time climbing was making the evening pretty good... but the thing that topped it off was that the climbing gym dude's girlfriend came in... and said that the surf at North was nasty and big and NO ONE got any rides... one person got barrelled, chewed up, and spat out on the sand... not the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... looks like I made the right choice!  Sometimes, giving up is the exactly right thing to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-5537654871584843705?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/5537654871584843705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/giving-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5537654871584843705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/5537654871584843705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/giving-up.html' title='Giving up'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-7413213809705933569</id><published>2009-08-25T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T22:48:34.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WohhhhhhhH!</title><content type='html'>Big surf today... went to North Chesterman and successfully made the biggest drop of my life... totally overhead... went all the way down... and then all the way back up.  Who knew that the big 1966-inspired wood fin on the Bluepath would carve so beautifully!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from that, it was an unremarkable session.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But holy crap... what a drop!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-7413213809705933569?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/7413213809705933569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/wohhhhhhhh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7413213809705933569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/7413213809705933569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/wohhhhhhhh.html' title='WohhhhhhhH!'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1042215383478367655.post-1732008250363091069</id><published>2009-08-24T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T10:29:45.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Well Spent</title><content type='html'>Got the day off work today... and had no check-outs... which meant I had the whole day to do whatever I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I made an appointment to get my haircut.  This morning, I went and had my hair cut for three hours.  Three hours of cutting... not colouring, not treating, but cutting.  The best haircut-- par excellence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to the bookstore to see if I could purchase a copy of David Foster Wallace's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Infinite Jest&lt;/span&gt; to give to someone... they didn't have it... so I ended up lending out my only copy (4th printing of the 1st paperback edition... which means absolutely nothing in collector terms... but... it is my first and only copy of the book).  I can hardly believe I've done this... but I've put my e-mail address on the inside cover, in the hopes that he will write me and tell me that DFW is awesome and ask me out.  I've already pictured the Austenian moment of revelation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Microwaves at Cox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I, with my awesome new haircut, am going to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1042215383478367655-1732008250363091069?l=ding-in-itself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/feeds/1732008250363091069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/time-well-spent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1732008250363091069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1042215383478367655/posts/default/1732008250363091069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ding-in-itself.blogspot.com/2009/08/time-well-spent.html' title='Time Well Spent'/><author><name>d.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02666069821619194355</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vBoHgvQf7io/STLj6BY8YPI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IclrNrhSOoY/S220/100_3117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
