At the end of my big European trip in 2007 I overnighted in London. I didn’t have a hotel, but I was still in one of the greatest cities on Earth. However, I did nothing. There was such potential that I didn’t take advantage of.
For me, I know it as the time I wasted a night in London.
I am currently trying to do a major clean up of my home. Spring cleaning? No stone left unturned? I’ve gotten to the book section where I am doing a purge.
I’m coming across some old textbooks from university. These I’m looking closer at, in case there is any that have knowledge I feel I should be able to reference.
What I’m rapidly learning is that I wasted a university education.
Now I’m not saying that it a waste to get a university education. I’m saying that there was such potential that I didn’t take advantage of.
There were many courses I didn’t take that I should have. There were many courses I took that were useless, and I didn’t even want to take. They “taught” me things that I can’t even think of what real-world applications they could have been for.
Now, I’m not sure how much choice I had with my courses. I was not making a concrete decision to be in computer science. I started with mathematics, so those courses came first. But even when I got into computer science I always seemed to be only able to choose the courses at the tail end of the selection period. So my choices were limited to what was left.
I also took Honours courses, which seemed to be more geared towards theory instead of practical matters. It did not include the course on graphics, which I would dearly love to have taken. I consider myself lucky that I was able to get into a database course which my entire career seems to have used. Same is true for C++.

When I run, I like to wear compression shorts. I’ve worn them for the past decade, when I first heard that they were good for muscles. It took me six years before I figured out that I should be actually wearing real compression shorts instead of just spandex bicycle shorts. Live and learn. No harm, no foul.
Now that I’m wearing the proper shorts, I’ve come to respect the science. They feel like they keep my muscles from moving where they shouldn’t.
But I have had a few bad experiences with them.
The first pair I got seemed to really work. However, they may have been a bit too small for me. It’s hard to tell the sizing because they are supposed to fit tightly. Anyway, they ripped in the seams. (I wonder if a tailor could fix them?)
After a few other rips like that, I stopped buying the expensive ones, and got the mid-range models. These don’t feel as great; my muscles feel more mobile. However, I get in a rut easily, so I’ll keep at them.
What I am now noticing is not ripping in the seams, but holes appearing from wear.
It took me a couple of years to figure out, but pockets are very helpful when you are on an ultramarathon. A backpack stores a lot of stuff, but isn’t very accessible. A belt with pouches has clasps and zippers to keep them closed, which is defeating the purpose of easy accessibility. Everything is more difficult if you are already holding poles in your gloved hands. It’s nice to have a few small things, like food or a camera, that I can get to quickly and easily. So I took to wearing some shorts over my compression shorts. (It probably also made me look better; not quite as much on display.)
However, with these mid-range compression shorts, the fabric isn’t as wear-resistant. My thighs are huge. It looks like I’m wearing jodhpurs. So there is a lot of friction in the crotch. If I wear shorts, that friction will actually wear away at the compression shorts, causing holes. So, the shorts that are supposed to prevent everything from being on display, are actually causing everything to be on display.
I still need to carry things.
I’ve experimented with belts, but I find they bounce too much. And they also cause friction as the band rubs against the shorts. Is there a combination of belt and shorts?
So what I need is basically like shorts, except with no fabric in-between the legs. Then I can get deep pockets so that things don’t fall out. Best of both worlds.
…
I’ve just described a running skirt, haven’t I?

Do they come in men’s sizes? And can we call them kilts?

Last year, in February I went for a run in my shorts. In winter. That was the same day I got an injury that lasted for several months.
It was warm out then. It is warmer today.
Dare I risk it?
I do prefer running in shorts.
And I have a proven track record of not learning from my mistakes.

Well, relatively speaking. First post on the new system. Let’s see how it goes.
I am invariably inclined to compare this to my first post eight years ago, today, on the LiveJournal site.
Yesterday was, as it was then, New Year’s Eve. I took the novel approach of not even acknowledging it in any activity. Well, other than moving to a new blog. I spent most of the night going through my finances and getting them updated. I had declared I was cleaning up, and getting rid of all the small papers is an important step. But a lot of the time, when I clean, the place ends up looking messier. It IS an organized mess.
The biggest event was my toilet deciding that it no longer wanted to go on living; it died. It didn’t die in the spectacular oh-my-god-theres-water-everywhere way. The handle broke so to get it to flush I need to take the lid off and fiddle with the plumbing. Still usable.
For New Year’s Day, I did celebrate a bit. I got up (eventually) and did a pleasant 18.3 km run. It wasn’t too cold, and it was a clear sunny day. A significant percentage of the few people I encountered told me it was a “beautiful day” with no prompting. I didn’t plan out a route and went where the impulses took me. Well, I did plan a route but that evaporated as soon as I wondered if anyone was using the sledding hill. (They weren’t.) That took me in a different direction and I just went with it.
And so concludes my first Erik dump for the year/site.
Although I should mention an interesting observation. On my LiveJournal, I made a concerted effort to never mention my first name so I could pretend there was some anonymity. And yet in my very first post I stated it. Since my username pretty much gave my last name, who was I fooling?

This will be my last entry.
I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m feeling all alone here. I’ve been trying to continue along for years, but who am I kidding. This isn’t worth it anymore.
I’ve outgrown LiveJournal. I started when I had friends who used it, but they all slowly flitted away. Or they just start using Facebook more.
And I’m a computer guy with his own website. Not a whiny girl.
So, after today (what little remains) I will be shutting down this journal and moving to my blog at http://www.airwreck.org/Blog. Tell your friends! I’ve already moved over every other post I’ve done. Although comments haven’t made the transition. I don’t think LiveJournal wants to give them up.
I am also fundamentally lazy, so it is a very standard WordPress site. I get the impression it would like to be in total control of my website, but I don’t want to give it the pleasure. Hopefully, one day, I will customize it at least a bit.

When I saw the movie, The Social Network, one of the more interesting ideas I saw in it was in the first fifteen minutes. While Mark Zuckerberg was doing a programming project of his own, he was writing his thought processes out into a blog as he was doing it. Lots of little post, but each revealing a problem and how he was solving it.
Cool.
I should do something like that.
The hope is that by writing things down, I will have to describe the problem clearly. Frequently, just describing an issue to someone, who doesn’t even have to understand it, has helped in solving the problem. Hopefully it will also help in the what-was-I-smoking-when-I-wrote-this syndrome that inevitably hits. But that should be more the purview of comments in the code.
I already have a personal blog, you are possibly reading it right now, but that doesn’t seem to be the best forum for what I’m looking for. That is for, well, personal stuff. This should be something more for technical issues. I’ve done a few posts like that in my personal blog, so I’m thinking of moving them to the technical blog.
My web hosting company has made it fairly easy to install a WordPress site, so why shouldn’t I do this? I’ve often thought of moving my personal blog to be hosted on my website via WordPress, but WordPress doesn’t allow me to filter the content so that only certain categories of people can read certain entries. There are just some things mothers shouldn’t know.

Over the years, I have noticed that I have hobbies that are no longer hobbies. I stay in denial for quite some time.
The first time I noticed this was with computer games. I would buy a game that looked interesting and fun to play. It would then stay in its shrink-wrap for years. I still sort of want to play Warcraft 3, but I don’t think it is compatible with my operating systems.
I basically thought I played more games than I actually did.
The next time was with DVDs. I would buy a movie I liked, and I would be lucky if I watched it once. It’s especially annoying when you buy a movie, and then years later, when you see it on Blu-Ray for cheaper than you originally paid for the DVD, you realize you still haven’t unwrapped it. I’m learning to let rentals into my life.
I think it is time for me to admit I have a third issue. Candy. I buy a lot of it. I barely eat any of it. I instead rudely push it on all my friends when they visit. Most of them are polite and try to make me happy by eating the fine Lindt chocolate or the After Eights, but I know their heart isn’t in it. I just have to accept that I need to stop buying treats.

I haven’t had television since late 2008. Back then I decided to stop paying for cable, and use the money I saved for DVDs of television series. It’s been working well, especially since I can borrow DVDs from friends as well. Cheap!
I think Shaw got frustrated with me. I’ve been using them for internet, and nothing else. I got a call a couple of weeks ago offering me faster internet and free television, for the same price. I suspect that they want to upgrade their network, and the stragglers are holding back progress.
They came today, bearing cables and modems, and set to work. According to my calculations and their claims, I will be paying $20 less a month for better service.
Unfortunately, with that came free television. I don’t really have time to watch television, so I don’t really see it affecting me much. Also, it is only standard picture which looks glaringly bad on my big screen. Mind you, I only observed a bit of the old Batman show, so that may have been a problem with the message more than the medium. It doesn’t have a PVR, so I would have to sit through all commercials.
Or is this the gateway drug to convince me to buy a better digital box?

Okay, Sears took back the watch. In 3-4 weeks I should have it back. If I am antsy during this time, please forgive me.
There was a sign, that I swear wasn’t there two weeks ago, that is now saying that they cannot guarantee the waterproofing after changing the battery on a watch.

I have two fetishes that are somewhat out of the ordinary. As far as fetishes go.
The first is maps and general cartography. I have openly admitted I will cross the street to go look at a map. The same can’t be said for your average porn. People tend to judge you if you get hit by a bus because of a naked women. The same isn’t true for a sweet piece of equirectangular projection.
My other fetish is time. I always want to know it. If I don’t have access to a watch, I tend to get antsy. I am one of the few people who still use a wristwatch instead of consulting a cellphone. (Looking at the wrist is faster than shuffling for a largish rectangle and pressing a button. Keeps your hands free too.) It is always there, through sleep, showers and [redacted].
I wonder what a psychologist would say about these two obsessions? Do I feel the need to be in control of my environment at all times? Is this because I feel so out of control of my life that I am compensating in other areas? Maybe a need to have knowledge of my surroundings?
It is the latter compulsion that is my current contention.
For the past month I’ve been noticing that my wristwatch is getting dimmer. If I used the light option (or Indiglo) the face would disappear entirely. So it was not without complete surprise that on November 22nd it decided it had had enough of life and gave up completely. i.e. The battery died.
I have used a Timex Ironman for almost all my life. There was a point where I could say I had the exact same watch on my wrist for half my life. Sure the wristband needed changing every so often, but the watch I had since grade eight survived me a long time. Then the buttons started to break in half and that was that. Since then, I haven’t had a watch that lasted more than four years. (I might be exaggerating, but I think that’s about it. The average is definitely below that.)
In the past decade, the quality of Ironman watches has gone down in other areas. Chiefly the watchband. The bands are now non-standard and are integrated into the watch. It is much harder to replace them. Once I had to replace the band by sending it into Timex. The weeks where it was gone were not pretty. Living in a constant state of fear of not knowing the time of day.
Now this watch I’m currently using is, maybe, a year old. So the battery dying this soon? Feels like I’ve been gypped. I certainly don’t want to send it into Timex in Ontario to get it fixed. And that watchband certainly looks like it would be in the way of taking off the back. I looked around to see what my options were. London Drugs couldn’t help, but they suggested Sears.
I went to Sears. It was not the greatest experience. I went to the watch department where the counter was empty of anyone resembling a retailer. I waited, occasionally going back to customer service to ask if the watch department was even open. On one of those annoying trips, someone did come to man the counter, and a pair of girls boggarted her. When I finally did get help, I was told that I should have been in the watch repair department. It’s over there.
Over there, I found a nice oriental man who was happy enough to replace my watch battery with a minimum of fuss and at a reasonable price. I made sure that he put the watch back on the correct side up. (I’ve had experiences where it was placed upside down which allows the watch to continue to function, but prevents it from making any sounds.) I also confirmed that it wouldn’t affect the waterproofing at all. If there were any problems, I had the receipt and could come back.
Two days later I noticed that it was starting to fill with water. That is not a design feature.
So, last Tuesday I went back to Sears and made my way to the watch repair department. This time there was a Hispanic woman manning the counter. She wasn’t nearly as helpful, and said that it would take them 3-4 weeks to send the watch back. Fine, I guess I have to. Not happy about it though. The agreement threw her, and she then started saying that I would need to speak to the supervisor. She’ll be in tomorrow during the day. Well, I work regular hours, I won’t be in. Okay, she’ll be in on Saturday from nine to two. Okay. I’ll return then.
Today, I drove through snow and incompetent Edmonton drivers to get to Sears. The same Hispanic woman was behind the counter. She was surprised to see me. The supervisor wasn’t in. She had changed her schedule. Try tomorrow.
I was making an effort to be polite and calm. I did not what to be that entitled customer who yells at people. I’m wondering if the tone of my voice was a little too stiff. She offered to phone the supervisor. I didn’t hear what was decided as she was speaking Spanish into the phone. The only word I recognized was “Amigo.” I think that was me.
She once again said that I could come in tomorrow to speak to the supervisor. I asked, “Do I have a choice?” She seemed somewhat meek when she shook her head.
I have passed through fear. I’m onto anger. Hate is coming up next.

So, I’ve sufficiently recovered from the events of the weekend to continue describing them.
I got back to the show early on Saturday so that I could give the bodypainters more time to do their work on me. My artist asked me what my favourite colour was (blue) and then ran with it. I can best describe it as aztec warrior. It was even on my face.
I then continued the usual schmoozing around the event.
At eight o’clock was the final fashion show; really a bodypainting show. I spent more time than usual preparing. Which, this time, meant I thought about what I would do on stage. Usually I just winged it. This time I planned the poses and what I should do. I added in some jumping and crouching. When I was on, I also concentrated on both how I walked and keeping my gut sucked in. I guess I had been getting practice.
I think I did well. I got complimented on my “routine” afterwards. But the voting was taken by how loudly the audience cheered. And they cheered louder for the other guy. I’d like to think it was because the pretty girl from the audience came up and spanked him on stage. But let’s be honest, he actually knew what he was doing. Still, for a geek, I think I did well.
As I said earlier, I wanted to have as many friendly people in the audience as possible. And yet, not one friend showed up. The closest I came was some friends of someone who couldn’t make it; they claimed they had cheered for me. It’s rather disappointing, and I’m feeling a bit let down.
Actually, one of the things I most regret about friends not showing up, is that I can’t get an honest opinion of how I looked on stage. Because I didn’t win, I can compete again next year. And why wouldn’t I? I would like to improve though, so having a third-party give constructive criticism would have helped.
I’m also trying to think about why I wanted to win. I would have gotten $1000 if I had come in first, but that barely registered with me. I would also have gotten a photo shoot; that I was more interested in. I have very few pictures of myself that I am happy with. Most often I notice bad facial expressions, poor body image, or some other defect. I do my best to take good pictures of other people, but too often when I try and get someone else to take a picture of me, I find I’m dealing with people who don’t know how to use a camera. But that’s a rant for another day.
I think what I most wanted was to be told that I was special. That I was better than other people. I haven’t had that since my high school math tests. It’s nice to win.
The rest of the evening progressed as usual. Photo area, more wandering. I did stay until the end of the show and did a bit of shopping. I got some liquid packs that, when you press a button/tab will heat up instantly. Reusable too.
I was still around when they were tearing the place down. I found myself in the photo area again, where I talked for awhile with one of the warrior women. I’m not sure if she was flirting was me?
The next day I got up early and went for a run. Blue bodypaint still on. The sweat made an interesting picture.

So, I’ve done two nights of the Taboo show. It has been fun.
There are three contestant’s for Ms. Taboo. There are only two for Mr. Taboo. There aren’t higher standards for the male version; only two people actually tried out for it. The three woman actually had to compete. The men fell into it. But it is an opportunity to hang out with pretty women for a weekend and be the centre of attention.
Interestingly, the organizer admitted that there probably isn’t much interest in the Mr. Taboo contest. Nominally it is there because they want to attract more women to the show. But the big benefit is that when the Ms. Taboo contestants are wandering around the show, there are men there with them. Less chance of the them getting harassed by drunk men. Apparently there are a lot of drunk people in Edmonton too, compared to Calgary. So, I’m to provide security, which is laughable.
Each night follows a pattern. Arrive. Change into clothes for the evening. Wander around and schmooze; let people know about the clothes and where to get them; remind them of the contest. Break. At eight o’clock, perform in a fashion show. Go to the photo area and try and convince people to pay to be in pictures with you. Break. More schmoozing. Eleven o’clock, you are done.
The first night, Thursday, they dressed me up in leather. I had to change what I was wearing because when they were sizing me, they never checked my thigh size. Running has ruined that for me. It was pretty dead that night, so it wasn’t too much fun.
Tonight was much better. They had us wearing latex clothing, which moved a lot better than the heavy leather. Easier to get about. There were more people, and they were drunker, so we were actually getting people to be in pictures. Which is surprising because there were actual models and porn stars there. Apparently we are doing better than Calgary.
The latex was a bit awkward when a large man accused me of being gay. I denied it, so he then claimed I was bisexual. Nope. He still looked suspicious, so I explained it was for the fashion show. I think he wanted to go gay bashing.
Tomorrow is the big event. I’ll be bodypainted. Then, after the fashion show, the audience will vote for the winner. But really, we are all winners. Ha ha, no. The winner gets more money, and a real photo shoot. I don’t care about the money, but I would like the photo shoot. I’d like to have a picture of me that I’m not embarrassed about.
My competition will, of course, slaughter me. He’s a former male model. He’s gregarious. He has his own welding business, so he gets good upper body strength. He has a punk mohawk, which makes him more distinctive. I’m a skinny computer programmer with dolphin arms.
He is from out of town, so my best strategy is to stock the audience with as many supporters as possible. He only has his wife. They have given me $300 worth of tickets to give away for just that purpose, but apparently I hang out with a very conservative crowd. (And I thought they were more to the Left.) Nobody wants to go out to see beautiful people. Nope. They are more likely to go out to work at a charity. I still have lots of tickets, but no takers.
The bodypainters were supportive and I’m going to try and go with as much confidence as possible.

Because I make bad decisions easily, I signed up for the Mr. Taboo contest. It is part of the Taboo Naughty But Nice Show. So, this weekend I will be pretty busy, performing in fashion shows and being an ambassador for the event.
They have given me many free tickets, more than I know what to do with. So, if anyone wants to get into the show for free on Saturday to cheer me on, let me know.

I’m back in Edmonton now. The trip back was actually one of the nicer ones I’ve had. It was fairly efficient.
The bus got me to the Montego Bay airport and I got through security, did my shopping for duty free. I went to Margaritaville with some friends for some lunch, but I have no idea what it was like. My plane started boarding before it came, so I had to book out of there. I hope I didn’t stiff my friends with the bill. It did mean I had to buy an overpriced sandwich on the plane. Oh, and despite being on the menu, hot meals are something that only first class actually can get.
In Toronto I did have a bit of trouble with security. At customs I collected my luggage and then checked it in again once I passed. As usual I put the duty-free rum in the checked baggage because, well, no liquids allowed on carry-ons. Unfortunately, I had forgotten one piece of contraband: a bottle of jerk sauce. That was clearly a terrorist threat. It remains in Toronto.
The Edmonton airport shuttle bus surprised me and was leaving just as I got arrived with my luggage. I actually had enough sleep that going on the run this morning was not a huge battle.

I really need to figure out the personalities here. I’m sure books could be written just on the interactions between two of the people here.
I’ll think about that as I go to bed now.

I took a nap today. The thing is that it is hard to take naps in tropical places. I tried last year when I hadn’t stayed up so late that I saw the sun rise, but never got really to sleep. The heat is not conducive to unconsciousness. I could nap in my room, but when you have a roommate, you never know when you will be interrupted.
But I figured out what to do. I left my room, found a pleasant gazebo with a mattress somewhat near the main area, and let a Gravol do its work on me. A consistent noise is just background and didn’t bother me. Although the screaming on the waterside did punctuate the air at times. But I fell asleep.
Unfortunately the Gravol isn’t completely leaving my system. So I’m not fully awake. Hopefully I’ll wake up more as the night goes along and I drink more caffeine.

As time goes on it gets harder to write these reports. I’m having too much fun and I need to pack in as much as possible in an increasingly short time. And I am not even describing every detail, because parental discretion is advised.
We just came back from Rick’s Cafe. I jumped in four times. It is still scary, but I’m getting better at it.
The darker it gets though, the harder it is. You need to keep yourself level with your arms out. But you want them at your sides when you hit the water. Well, when the water is hard to see, it is hard to time it.
My jaw hurts. ?!
They tell you at the top that once you are in the water, swim to the right to get to the ladder out of water. The first time I went in there were people there telling me to go to the other way. They seemed official enough (they weren’t) so I went along with it. We swam into a cave and went climbing into a tunnel. It was getting dark there, with only the light from the setting sun to guide us. Is this where they put the bodies of tourists they murder? Eventually they gave me a mask and I swam out through an underwater tunnel. It was very cool.
Earlier in the day I went back to Lobster Island with two woman who were interested in what they heard about it. I bought them a lobster and we watched it get cooked. It was actually traumatic and I probably should say what happened. But then I probably shouldn’t have named him either.

Yesterday afternoon, there wasn’t anything really happening. The biggest excitement I had was helping a model with her photo shoot. I took a few pictures myself, and did my best to learn some techniques from the professionals.
In the evening, after dinner, I hung out with the friends from L.A.. I decided to be a submissive drunk. Whenever I was getting something to drink I asked them what I should have. Actually I said “Dealer’s Choice” and drank whatever they gave me. I think I only had three alcoholic beverages, but I felt really good. Freedom from choice. I did some dancing in the disco, helped them take pictures while they were looking good and generally having a good time.

This morning, my roommate got up before me. I was barely awake when he came back 20 minutes later. He told me a woman wanted a massage right now. Was I awake enough to do that? Ah, you’re still asleep, I’ll tell them so.
In my sleep haze, I agreed.
Ten minutes later I awoke enough to figure out what was going on.
You idiot!

This morning I found a friend that I had talked to yesterday. We borrowed some ocean kayaks and then took them out on to the high seas. The high seas being a fifteen minute paddle to Lobster Island.
It’s a small island off the shore. Beautiful place. However, there are a number of vendors there. Usually they come to the mainland and offer their wares, but this was where the magic happens. Lobsters. They have an open fire and many buttered lobsters cooking there. They looked delicious. Smelled fantastic.
I’m allergic to them by the way.
Still, it had a nice beach. It also had a bit of a jungle, which I haven’t had a chance to be in while in Jamaica. There are no jungles on the resort, and I don’t care to wander into them off the safety of the resort.
Mind you I didn’t wander in much. My friends didn’t bring shoes, so I was by myself. Maybe I’ll come back with better prepared friends.
There were thoughts of trying to paddle all around the island, but the surf looked very choppy by the side. Didn’t look like a good idea. And the ocean sports guy didn’t recommend it either.

I needed sleep for a lot of the day, but I didn’t. I skipped my scuba diving because I was tired, and I wanted to attend the second part of the class. That wasn’t as useful as before but I liked the people in it.
There was also a pool party with everyone. That was nice. It’s a good social atmosphere to meet everyone without being exhausted. Although the MC was up until 9:30 this morning, so that isn’t entirely true.
I didn’t eat much for dinner because my presence was required for a fashion show. I enjoyed strutting around with a pretty girl and everyone looking at us. I even got complimented that my fashion walk skills have improved.
The rest of the evening wasn’t that exciting. I spent time with new friends, but karaoke was not that great. I think two days isn’t enough recovery time.

Caffeine is my friend. It keeps me awake when I’ve only had five hours of sleep. And the cool stuff happens when you are awake, and not asleep in your room.
I am a bit worried about sunburn. I was out participating in a class, and I had bit of trouble staying in the shade. At intermission I grabbed some sunscreen and smeared myself. No burns to report.
I did spend the end of the afternoon with the instructor watching the sunset. He’s a good guy, and it was pleasant to be in a tropical climate and watching beautiful scenery and discussing Canadian comedy bands. We only ended because our group was getting together to take over the Italian restaurant.
The meal was okay; the beef wasn’t Albertan. There was good company, and a nice performance. A woman at our table was also a marathon runner so I spent a lot of time talking to her about running during and after the meal. It was great to meet someone with such a similar interest here. My local friends have said that doing the Death Race has made me a more interesting person and I was able to put that to the test.
If only she didn’t have a girlfriend…
I met the widow again, and I’m not sure I enjoy being around her much. I think she has been without a man for awhile and so was rather forward. I think I feel sorry for her more than attracted. I also got hurt by her ministrations. So, it is safe to say that I will not have intimate relations with people just to have intimate relations.
I did talk to the restaurant performer afterwards and found out she was good friends with the woman I knew in Los Angeles. It was nice to catch up and find out how she was doing. We’ll probably get together tomorrow and do other stuff.

There was the meet and greet yesterday, but the location was the disco where the air conditioner was broken. The warming appetizers gave the place a fishy smell. Thankfully it was only an hour. There were fried plantains, and I love those things.
Then I had dinner and talked with my German friend.
Afterwards we all hung out in the disco again and watched some performances. Then it was off to Karaoke. I did some duets with a girl and overall had a good time.