have not been that productive. I haven’t been looking for a job.
I had bigger plans. I was going to do my own programming so that I can start to like it again. But I have no deadline and no one asking for it, so motivation has been lacking. I’ll make excuses: I do better later in the day; I’m feeling ill; Just one more episode of TV.
This is not the way things should be going.
I think I need to start logging what I’m doing in my program. Dare I even say, put the application up to be downloaded? If people know (even if they are theoretical people) and are watching me, I’ll feel much more accountable.
Let’s see if this takes.
I did do an interview last week with a major New York company. They found me, not the other way around. They weren’t exactly interviews, but tests to see how well I knew programming. The first test I passed, but it was mostly basic stuff I learned/forgot in University. The second test I did not do nearly as well on; they asked hypothetical programming problems and asked the best way to implement them. I gave answers, but I thought of better ones five minutes after it was over. They haven’t called back.
I fear that I am rusty in my programming. My last job was mostly about fixing bugs instead of implementing new code. And new code is where I want to be. I need to get back in practice.

That was a horrible trip home.
I got up at a reasonable time for someone with a day job. A completely unreasonable time for the unemployed. I packed up and got into the car. I had time, so I decided I would go to a grocery store and find some Vanilla Coke to take home (not available in Canada. I’m not even sure if it is available in the States either.)
And because I don’t know the area that well, it was not easy. It was also not successful. In the end, I got to a pharmacy and just grabbed a 12-pack of regular Coke. At least I’ll be able to do a controlled test of America Coke versus Canada Coke. I believe they use different sugars.
I then drove to the airport, although by this time it was two hours until my flight left. I promptly got lost in the airport streets. I had to pick up gas, and drop off the car. Both were harder as I kept having to make left turns. Did you know that gas stations demand a valid zip code when you try and pay at the pump? Did you ales know that there are two Fox Rental places? One for renting cars, and the other for dealers.
I got to the WestJet counter an hour and fifteen minutes before flight departure. Things went fairly well from this point. There were few lines and I got through them all quickly and efficiently. Stress was relieved and I enjoyed the flight.
Aside: While flying over Nevada, I noticed an interesting lake to the left. What got me was that I could see a river clearly going into it, but I could not see any way for the water to exit. No outlet? I drew a picture so I could look it up later (I like flying over land with topography so I can learn about what I saw during the flight. Heaven help me if I ever get internet access while flying.) I found out that it was Pyramid Lake and it IS an Endorheic basin, which means I was right. No outflow.
I got to Calgary, and passed customs with no trouble. The luggage carousel was reporting my luggage wouldn’t show up for 25 minutes, but it lied. Two minutes later and I was out of there.
I had a five and a half hour layover. (A drive to Edmonton would have taken two and a half hours.) Fortunately, my parents are in the area, so they picked me up and we spent the afternoon together. Then the spring storm happened. Snow was going sideways. They got me to the airport on time, but it wasn’t a good sign that all the lights were out. (Power was out over all of northeastern Calgary.) Security was continued, but with them going through every piece of luggage and doing a body search. Then I got to the terminal and proceeded to wait. Along with a lot of other people.
There was an older couple with a dog that needed to go outside. Eventually security let her outside with the dog so it could relieve itself. They still searched her and the dog when they came back in.
Facebook was nice as a way to keep people up to date. Eventually the power came back on, and I got information. My flight boarded at 9:20 in the evening. Two hours later than expected.
The 40 minute flight didn’t take off until an hour later. I think there was a line-up for de-icing.
Edmonton airport, shuttle bus, walk in the cold to my building. Enter the building and find the elevator is out-of-order. Stairways up to the top floor. (Remember, there is a 12-pack of Coke in my luggage.) And I’m home.

Tomorrow morning I head home. This trip has been quite the experience. I had expectations that turned out to be wrong. I had hopes that did actually happen. I’m tempted to say this has been my best trip here. Yes, there were things that went horribly wrong, but that is what makes great vacation stories. (Although I think I better keep some of these to myself.)
There are a number of things I never got to do, like the Getty museum. But I did get to be myself, which is more important. Let’s face it, I’m not that much of a museum person. Instead I went to Santa Monica beach and went for an 11.5 km run. I did go the wrong way, down the boring part, but I had never gone that way before. Lesson learned.
And really being myself, at one point I just lazed around and read comic books at my host’s place. That is what I would probably do in Edmonton.
I had a good time.
But I don’t think I could live here. The people here are cynical, and occasionally mean. Something here gets to people and makes them selfish. I think they realize they are changing into people they don’t want to be, but there is nothing they can do about it. They are actually put off by someone who is nice for the sake of being nice.
Which is why I never really looked for a job here. I did do a bit of networking with my friends, and there is a lead that may help another project. It would be nice to be here for longer, but I don’t fit in this town.

I’ve tried running here. My host is a bit into running, but we didn’t get very far the first time. I totally confused my Garmin Forerunner. It took several minutes before it gave up trying to figure out where it was and asked “Have you travelled hundreds of miles since your last use?”
Today running went much better.
I’ve been partying a little too hard, and for the longest time I wasn’t getting adequate sleep. Strange bed, strange hours. It finally caught up with me yesterday evening, and so we collapsed in bed instead of going out to a party. The party would have been at a semi-outdoor venue, and it is (relatively) chilly here. So last night I finally got a decent night’s sleep. Which meant that when we went for a run this morning, we felt good.
I have to keep slow because my host is not at my level of fitness. (who is?) But it is a beautiful run around here. We headed towards the Hollywood hills, AKA Hollywoodland. I’m glad I had a local guide, because otherwise I would have gotten lost. It’s a maze. Anyway, we encountered a garage sale and my host wanted to buy stuff. I’m glad we were able to come back with a car because I wasn’t looking forward to running back carrying a big pot. That would have looked like we had just stolen soup from someone’s home.
We got close to the big Hollywood sign, but I don’t think you can get right up to it. I’ll have to try and get a better view later.

I’ve been in L.A. for a bit over a day now. Plane arrived, I rented a car, then drove to my friend’s. By this time it was late and I was rather hungry. We walked to a nearby Thai restaurant and had a lovely meal. Then I just spent some time relaxing.
The hi-light was the late night party. We didn’t get there until around midnight, but there were a lot of people I knew. Great to see them all again. Some I hadn’t seen for years. Some I hadn’t seen since I was last in Jamaica. I don’t actually recall what time we got back home.
But I do know I didn’t get out of bed until 1:30.
We’re going to another party tonight, but my host tells me that parties don’t really start until midnight. I’m glad I’m in the hands of a professional. I feel like the small-town boy confused by the big city ways.

So I’m off to L.A. For a wild two weeks. Hoping for a wild two weeks. But part of me is thinking of spending some days doing nothing except maybe some programming.
I got up far too early (after staying up far too late) to catch my flight. Of course it is delayed an hour. So I get to wait here and pretend to sleep.
I did get to try the full-body scanner the Americans like to use to make themselves feel safe. It’s not as fun as advertised.

For the first time ever, I gave money to Microsoft. I feel dirty.
I also feel stupid because their stuff doesn’t work.
One of the things I’m going to miss about working is that I don’t have access to office supplies. I loved being able to use a 3-hole punch. Or a photocopier. These things are lost to me.
I also have to give back my laptop. When my company got acquired, the new company didn’t approve of our old laptops, giving us new ones instead. I took the old laptop home and used it there sporadically. Now that I’m being laid off, I have to return it. Which is unfortunate, because there was a program on it that I need to use occasionally.
So I should get my own Windows computer. I figured I would save money and instead put Windows onto my Macbook Pro. Since my Mac is three and a half years old, I figured XP would be the way to go. But XP is not available anymore. So, I guess I have to use Windows 7. I went out and purchased a copy, and then followed the instructions to install it. And promptly ran into problems that are leading me to believe my computer can’t support Windows 7, despite meeting the system requirements.
I am not a fan of Microsoft right now.

I really should be doing more work looking for a new job. I think part of it is that I don’t really believe I am unemployed. After so many years it feels unnatural. The last time I looked for a job was while I was still in university. There was another time I was looking, but a headhunter got me what would become my present job, so I didn’t feel as active in looking.
My friend describing an opportunity for iPhone development may have taken the edge off as well. The idea that I have this opportunity just waiting for me feels like a safety net I don’t really have. I should buckle down and get serious. But I am sort of looking forward to not having to work for awhile; an enforced vacation.
Not helping is that I’m trying to spring clean my home. Which means that I’m going through old piles of papers, sorting them and trying to figure out what to do with them. I just ran across all my documents from my European vacation two years ago. Hmmm. I have time now, and a nice severance…
Stop! That is the madness place!

What is the policy on keeping brochures from past vacations? Keep ’em as memories, or toss them as clutter?

I’ve done more marathons than I’ve done half-marathons. I’ve done more ultramarthons than I’ve done marathons. (All of the above ignores the Walt Disney Goofy which I am not sure whether it should be classified as a half, a full or an ultra.) I appear to like longer distances to shorter.
My theory for that is that there is less pressure with an ultra. With the shorter (using the word liberally) races, I know I am going to finish. I am competing to have a fast time. I have to figure out what speed I can do and how long I can keep it up for. I have to straddle the line between aerobic and anaerobic.
With an ultra, I’m just worried about finishing. That is the accomplishment. I’m solidly in aerobic exercise the entire time. Walking hills is not frowned upon, and is even encouraged. I can stop and rest without guilt or worrying about who is passing me. As long as I finish, I have plenty of time to catch up with them. And if I don’t, no biggie. My only goal is the getting across the finish line.
I could also say that I am much more susceptible to peer-pressure when I’m running. I usually don’t want to do these stupid-distance races, but my running friends can easily convince me to do one while I’m flush with endorphins. My non-running friends cannot convince me to not do them, because I usually see them in a laid-back environment with very little endorphins.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Something rather worrying has come up.
I like action movies, and science-fiction movies. I also like comedies occasionaly. Those are the movies I would most likely see if left completely to my own devices. (And that includes being free of those neurotic tics I’m full of.)
I do find it difficult to watch a movie on my own though. With other people around I have better peer pressure to keep watching. But if there is something happening in the movies that is upsetting, I start watching the clock for it to end. This usually comes up as characters being unbelievably stupid. Or the suspension of disbelief getting too hard to maintain.
Today I started watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It is a long movie, so I only planned to watch half of it. But the darn thing was interesting and I wasn’t having any problem continuing to watch it. It’s a drama! I’m not supposed to like that. I’m supposed to like things with helicopters (or giant eagles) and explosions.
Getting old sucks.

It is hardly surprising that I am not watching the Olympics. I like to see the results, but I can’t be bothered to actually watch the events. I’m wondering which I want more, Canada to win everything, or just be better than the US. Petty, I know.
But what I am really thinking about is curling. For me, curling is the ultimate winter Olympic sport. To be good in this sport, to even have a hope of contending, you must be a winter nation. Every other sport looks cool and exciting; non-winter nations want to be part of it and will field a hockey team or pretend they know how to bobsled (I’m looking at you Jamaica!) But curling isn’t cool. You have to really understand winter to play it. You can’t fake it. It is a “sport” that need special facilities to play, and you have to be really focussed to want to build one of those.
All the other countries are just winter posers.

If you are going to throw your drink at me, at least have the decency to do it to my face.
I went to the Empire Ballroom this night. It was actually one of the least stressful trips to a bar I’ve had in a long time. This was because I really did go with zero expectations. I was only going to go see a performer I enjoy. That was all. I didn’t plan on talking or making eye contact with anyone else. No anxiety attacks for me!
The show was an hour late, and it was enjoyable. The bar was filled with women that were much younger than me. Young enough that I didn’t find them interesting. Less stress!
However, after the show, I decided there was no reason to stay. I started making my way to the exit, having to fight through the crowds. There was a gorgeous girl behind me, and in the throng we got pushed around. I believe the pack made me bump into her, causing her to spill some of her drink on herself. I asked if she was okay, then continued on my way. Then I felt something wet go down my back. Apparently she was not okay.
Pfft.
Like I’m going to take anything personally from a girl wearing her dress backwards?

Of course, it might have just been some ice cubes she put down my shirt…
I’m a little behind in my social graces. Does that mean she likes me, or did that go out of popularity in kindergarten?

I’m trying to do a good tidying of my home. I want to reduce all the clutter possible in the main areas. So that means I want to get rid of any piles of anything and put them out of sight. I’ve just run into a problem though. I have some papers; (coupons, gift certificates, tasks to do) if they are out of sight, they will become out of mind.
How do I organize them so I can’t see them, and yet I can?

This morning I learned something; If you don’t put the kneading blade in the bread machine, it doesn’t actually make bread. I was really hoping to have extra food in the form of fresh toast this morning because I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat enough last night.
Yesterday was busy. I did a 16km run, then an afternoon of playing D&D. But instead of eating dinner, I decided to go out and see Avatar. When I got back, all I had was a small frozen quesadilla. Not a proper dinner, but I expected I would get more calories in the morning.
The calories are a lie!
I’ve been exhausted lately. I’m trying to put more hours in at work to make myself look better. It has been easier because I have an interesting project. But it is nearly done. In its death throes though I am getting very frustrated with my computer. In any case, I get home late and I have no energy for anything more than TV or mindless internet trolling. Much less all the little projects I want to get to that make me happy.
It is also making me moody. I’m getting stupid thoughts again. I unfortunately unloaded a bunch of them on an old friend this evening. I really shouldn’t do that. No one wants to listen to a whiner.
Change of subject!
Avatar was a good movie. Tale as old as time. Completely predictable. But, that said, James Cameron is a fantastic storyteller. I was drawn in and had no complaints. It was probably as long as The Dark Knight but I didn’t feel exhausted at the end of Avatar. It was also my first 3D movie; that was a treat.

I like knowing secrets, but I am not good at keeping them. Well, I am good at keeping them, but I can’t guarantee that about the people I tell.
This affects how I play games. If I am enjoying a game, I want to know all its secrets. Which means that playing and enjoying the game take a back seat to finding out all about it. Usually this comes in the form of maps. I will chronically map anything I can. (But I don’t like cheatbooks. I want to discover the secrets, not have them handed to me.)
The best example of this is when I spent an entire summer mapping the old computer game Ultima IV. I never got close to finishing it, but I made a large poster out of pencil crayon showing every square of the surface. (I really should get around to finishing that game someday.)
This has spoiled some other games. I remember playing Ultima VII and going off into the wilderness just to map a mountain range and ended up discovering a major artifact, a flying carpet, that I wasn’t supposed to find until later. Although the carpet would allow me to move around the world quickly, I found it detrimental to mapping because you moved too quickly. I promptly ignored it.
This also affects non-computer games. With the old Fighting Fantasy book series, I would go through and map the world. With the Choose Your Own Adventure books I would go through until I had read every page in the book, in the correct order. (I had to stick my fingers in a lot of pages to keep track of where I had been and what choices I had previously made.)
I recently discovered the online game Choice of the Dragon. This is similar to a “Choose Your Own Adventure” and I have found it strangely addictive. Of course, I’ve started keeping track of all the choices and what they lead to. But your choices affect your stats. Some of the time the game will tell you how your choice affects them, and I tracked that. At any time you can bring up a window to see our stats in bar-graph form. Then I noticed that your stats can be affected, and the game will not tell you. And the bar-graph will not tell you exact values.
Well, thankfully I’ve been learning about security of web applications to prevent hacking attempts. This gives me a good basis to know how to hack things. Last night I created a program that will let you know your exact stats in the game, and how the last choice changed them. Happy that I had a tool to let me more accurately map the game, I went to bed.
It was a few minutes later that I realized that this same tool could be used to change your stats. It hadn’t really occurred to me earlier because I had no intention of cheating in the game. Cheating spoils the fun of mapping.
Oh, in my defence, my hacking attempt does not affect any servers and only allows me to affect my game and nothing else. I suppose if I was better at it, I could get files that would tell me the effects of all the choices in one go, but I don’t have any interest in that. That would spoil the fun.

Back in 1988 I really wanted to be one of the runners with the Olympic torch. To do so, you had to be picked from a lottery; ballots could be dropped off at Petro-Canada. All very democratic, but prone to ballotbox-stuffing. I did not understand probability at the time, so I thought my one entry would give me a reasonable chance to be one of the runners in a major metropolitan area. Silly me.
22 years later and it is not a lottery. It sounds slightly fairer in that you register online for a spot and only a limited amount of people are allowed to register in each area. Or you can try reasoning with them and tell officials why you think you deserve to carry the flame. Apparently being an avid runner is not a good enough reason. It would help if I was in a wheelchair. (Do I sound bitter?) Being a celebrity also seems to be a way in. (Yeah, I’m looking at you Shania Twain!)
Needless to say, I was not chosen for the great honour.
I did leave work early to go see it. Traffic was a mess because the route had been closed off. I had planned to get to the Running Room and see it go by there at 5:30, but I got home at 5:20. I was out the door, by 5:27 after changing into running clothes and I started running to the Running Room, hoping the flame was late. Lucky me, the flame was going along Whyte Avenue, so I got to see it go by. Strangely, it didn’t look like they were allowing people to run with the official runner. That was too bad, because if you aren’t allowed to hold it, it would be nice to pace with it.
Mind you, it looked like they were walking with it, not running. And you only get to hold it for 300 meters.
Then I continued on to my evening run at the Running Room. That run took us along the flame route and I saw the torch a second time.

It is a matter of public record that I hate Christmas carols. I’ve commonly said that it is because they have been overplayed and I feel like they are always trying to sell me something when I hear them around Christmas. In August there is a better chance that they will feel like they have meaning.
I have come to doubt that theory now.
Instead we will replace it with a new theory. A new theory that fills in some of the holes in the first theory.
I think it is far more likely that I just associate Christmas carols with a traumatic moment in my life. You most often hear them in malls, and malls are miserable places, especially close to Christmas. How could that not be traumatic? It may have happened in my youth and they still cause me grief. I am much better able to tolerate a carol if it doesn’t sound “professional”. i.e. Something a mall might play. A single person on a piano makes a much better performance that does not cause me stress.
The August corollary doesn’t stand up to examination in this light. So let’s examine its origins.
I first came up with it when I saw an Animaniacs Christmas episode in August and found the songs quite touching, especially “We Three Kings” and “Little Drummer Boy”. But I don’t think it is the timing that made me like them, I think those are the only carols I like (Along with “Carol of the Bells”).
It was pointed out to me tonight that “We Three Kings” was depressing. That is exactly right! No mall ever plays that song. So no trauma. And of all of the carols, it is the only one where people are out doing things. The others just try and sell a feeling; this one tells a story. (Not a large one I’ll admit.)
“Little Drummer Boy” is a bit more mall friendly. I can’t explain why I like that one, but it doesn’t feel overplayed to me. “Carol of the Bells” just sounds spooky.
So new theory: There are only three good carols, all the others displease me.

A friend suggested that I partake of a smoothie; soft food while my mouth recovers. That sounded like good advice, especially since I work above a Booster Juice. So I went and, after much deliberation, purchased my first smoothie, put the straw in, raised it to my lips and… stopped. I’m not allowed to use straws; dentist’s orders.
I don’t think the experience is the same with a spoon.

In previous times when I have been in a car accident, I could always take something from it. I could figure out what I did wrong and learn to not do it again. Become a better driver.
This time, I’m having trouble. I wasn’t doing that much wrong. I wasn’t speeding. I wasn’t following too close. Inclement weather isn’t something I have control over.
The best lesson so far is “keep your eyes on the road at all times.” That sounds good, but I can see that causing more accidents than it prevents. If I do that, driving becomes much more boring than it already is. The road is not that exciting to look at, and if you want things to be more interesting, you drive more interesting. Besides, shouldn’t I be aware of my surroundings?
Probably the best thing to do would be to stop driving.

Before I even got out of bed, I knew this would be a bad day. I woke up moody. I have a theory about why; last night I had a talk with a friend about relationships and feelings. Whenever I do that I get into an emotional state that tends to linger. I really need to stop introspecting about where my life is going.
It didn’t help that I had a fairly major dental operation this morning. Bad gums. Stitches were involved.
Then there was the car accident. A slippery road and a car waiting to turn left in the middle of nowhere is a bad combination. Especially in an area I’m not familiar with. I wasn’t following too close, but I got briefly distracted looking at the building that was the destination of my first trip in my first car; my first auto insurance company. Irony. Anyway, low speed and no one was injured. My front bumper broke a few pieces off. Their car looks perfectly fine.
The best way I can think of to get out of my funk would be to go for a run. A nice endorphin rush would be appreciated. But the dentist has forbidden me from exercising for the next week.
Another theory about my moodiness might be that I haven’t had a decent dinner in two nights. I have the food, but not the time. And now I’m not supposed to be eating hard food.
The funk shall continue.

Gingerbread icosahedron
Originally uploaded by ad_havoc

The second batch of gingerbread was more fit for eating. But I don’t think it is fit for load-bearing. The burnt cookies did seem strong enough. Let’s face it though, I’m not planning on eating this. I want to build with them.
So, I continued with my plan and started construction. I made three sections of five triangles each, frosted them together and let them harden overnight. It seems to have worked. In the morning I attached two of them together with a few more pieces. Then in the afternoon, I finished it all. The last piece did not fit well and I had to use a knife to de-equilateralize the triangle. I don’t think it is even an isosceles triangle. But the beast is complete.
Now all I need to do is number it.
Unfortunately, the next D&D game isn’t until the new year. So it will be awhile before I can roll/destroy it.

I’m goal oriented.
When I have a task in mind, I don’t feel happy until I finish it.
Yesterday was gingerbread night at a friend’s place. Basically, bring your pattern, it will get carved into gingerbread. Then build away. Last year I made a Star Destroyer. This year I was even more ambitious. I wanted to make a icosahedron. AKA, a d20.
The pattern was simple; I just needed a lot of triangles. At work I did some math and did my best to construct perfect equilateral triangles in cardboard. (The paper-cutter really helped.) I tried to be precise, but let’s face it, we’re dealing with gingerbread, not machined parts.
Things went fairly well. I used a bowl to help put the pieces together, and then “glued” them with icing. I used marshmallows inside to help support it inside, while I used Ritz crackers for scaffolding.
Unfortunately, the frosting was goopy. I finished and let it dry for awhile, but when I tried to remove it from the bowl, the dripped icing made it stick to the bowl. The extra weight made it collapse.
So, gingerbread d20 failed.
This annoyed me. A lot.
So I decided that I would have to try again. Immediately.
Due to a kitchen mishap, the triangle pattern I used the first time got destroyed. I had triangles that were 50% bigger, so I would have to use those.
My friend was kind enough to give me the recipe. Unfortunately I have no baking skill. While shopping for the ingredients though I saw a box to make gingerbread cookies. Score! I’m more interested in the building, than the taste, so making from scratch didn’t mean much to me.
I soon realized I didn’t have enough in the package for the twenty triangles I would need, so I left part way through to buy another box.
My shortcut though may have destroyed me. This looks like eating-gingerbread, not construction-grade gingerbread. After baking in the oven, they felt dangerously soft. I left them in for a bit longer, hoping that would harden them. All I think I did was burn the bottoms.
But now that I’ve let them sit, they look like they’ve hardened. The next batch out of the oven is not burnt, so we’ll see if they stiffen up.
This is going to be a multi-day project so I’ll update if I have more information. But I might just have to start from, literally, scratch.

This morning I woke with a headache. And as the day went on it steadily got worse. Tylenol was really not helping. Tonight was important and I did not want to be under the weather.
Know what did cure it within half an hour?
A can of Coke. For the first time I used the drink machine at work. And that shot of caffeine fixed my head right up.

There are three essential qualities of a medicine:

1. It tastes bad.
2. It is expensive.
3. It cures a problem.

I’m not a doctor, so these are just coming off the top of my head.
With these facts, I have come to a conclusion (as circular as it is) that alcohol is medicinal for me.
I’ve never liked the taste of alcohol, so I don’t drink it. And on a price comparison, why would I spend a lot of money for something I don’t like when there are much cheaper alternatives that I will enjoy. But the fact remains that I am uptight in social gatherings, especially when I don’t know everybody. When I was in Jamaica where the alcohol was free, I forced myself to drink it, and it was a very good social lubricant.
I should drink more in Edmonton if I’m socializing. But I’m fundamentally cheap and don’t want to pay inflated bar prices. Plus, I don’t want to drink and drive.
Last Saturday I went to a club party in my neighbourhood. This gave me an opportunity to experiment. The event, wasn’t just in my neighbourhood, but across the street from where I live. (Okay, kitty-corner, but the former sounds cooler.) Since I have insane amounts of alcohol in my home for my friends who do drink, it looked like an excellent time to experiment. I could “tank up” before hand. I didn’t have to pay “inflated bar prices” because I could always leave the party, cross the street, and then come back. (The huge lineup at the bathroom didn’t bother me either.)
The difference was considerable. A friend noted how much more extrovertive I was. I had a good time and talked to people I didn’t know. I felt comfortable. I was, dare I say, popular! (Or at least in my own imagination.) I even felt confident enough to ask a pretty girl for her phone number.
Social drunk?
I know there are people who will say I shouldn’t drink (I’m looking at you S) but the results are fairly encouraging.

I’m thinking of changing my movie rental strategy. Now that I have a Blu-ray player, I am not confined to DVDs only. And the local store has a small Blu-ray section. And let me emphasize here, small! Perfect! Since only newer films are really in Blu-ray, I can start going through that section. I will get to see newer releases faster, and in high-definition. Plus, it won’t invalidate the old system, since I’ll be preventing previous alphabetic films from coming in.
First up, Burn After Reading.
Any opinions?

I got an underwater camera over a year ago. I’ve taken it on two vacations since then, and it finally ran out of film (yes, film) while I was in Jamaica. In the middle of a dive actually. I’m getting the impression that a film camera is superior to a digital camera in an underwater environment. Digital cameras get hot as they use energy to run themselves. A film camera only needs a battery to operate the flash, which you probably shouldn’t even be using. A hot object will generate fog in a cold, enclosed space.
I cracked the camera open today to get the film out. I am slightly disturbed that there was a piece of foam insulation floating around inside, right next to the lens. It is going to be interesting to see how the pictures turn out now. I’ll have them tomorrow. Hopefully I won’t traumatize the developer with too many level three pictures.

In this corner, weighing in at 190 lb., the Canadian! In this corner, weighing in at 27 lb., the Turkey! Two shall enter the kitchen. Only one shall leave! Come witness American Thanksgiving

Today is my traditional turkey day. American Thanksgiving. Blah blah blah. Invite people over. Blah blah blah. Prove I can cook a turkey.
I’ve never invited this many people over, which has required a bigger turkey than I’m used to. More pressure too. It doesn’t help that I’m operating on about four hours of sleep.
So far, in the battle against the turkey, we’ve won a round each. The turkey got the first win by causing me to cut myself. Thankfully no blood got on any food. But I won second round by actually getting the turkey in the oven. There are still a few rounds to go.

On the fifth of November I went scuba diving. This was altogether the best diving experience I’ve ever had. Mostly I’ve been unimpressed with Jamaica diving; the seas aren’t vibrantly blue and there aren’t that many fish. I always compare it to my dives in the crystal waters of the Turks and Caicos which were teeming with interesting fish.
But this part of Jamaica has its own charms.
The weather wasn’t that great to start. I did meet a cute girl from our group who claimed she also had trouble equalizing. I thought she would be a good dive buddy since we could both go down slowly. On the first dive though, she had nothing but trouble; her two regulators both broke down on her while on the surface. She decided she didn’t want to go diving after that. Surprisingly, I had no trouble going down. Apparently it just takes one day of deep diving to get my ears trained to handle equalization. (Although, when I equalize on land, I find the sound of air hissing out my ear somewhat disconcerting.)
Anyway, I went down to a sunken ship. It was made of metal, and could have been there for ten years or fifty. I didn’t know. It wasn’t that interesting though; I had seen it before. We continued along, going to 72 ft deep. Then, out of the mists (or the aquatic equivalent), there was an entire plane. I had heard about this wreck, but I didn’t expect to see it. Off to the right there was another one, missing its back half. I swam up to the cockpit of the second one and looked in through the window. The controls had been taken over my coral.
Then I did something extremely stupid/dangerous/exciting. I swam around to the door and then into the plane. I promptly swam out the back, so I was only inside for about ten feet. So cool!
That was why this was the best dive I’ve ever had.
The second dive that morning was shallower, going to only 35 feet. This time a new tank and regulator were found for my dive buddy and she was able to go down as well. She had an underwater camera that took pictures. Hopefully I’ll be able to get copies from her. This dive wasn’t that exciting as we just looked at coral. The highlight was when the dive master found a slow, almost round, fish tooling around the bottom. He picked it up and showed it off.
As it sat in his hands, fins flapping, you could almost hear it saying, “Guys! This isn’t funny anymore.”
Ah, anthropomorphized fish.

I am back home. In the past few days I decided to stop trying to update the journal. I previously did it at night but I needed the sleep. Instead I’ll just try and write down memories as I recall them. Less pressure.
In summary: fantastic trip! I think this was the best one I’ve ever had.
But I need to go to bed now. Conveniently, I’m leaving my luggage outside in the cold overnight so that any parasites that decided to stowaway in them will seriously rethink their plan. This is not an excuse to avoid unpacking. Honest!