Adherents to LaVeyan Satanism changed the Golden Rule into "Do unto others as they do unto you" so that (they) are only to give compassion and sympathy to those who (in the individual's estimation) deserve it. They do not believe in Satan or God, in fact, to the Satanist, he is his own God.
Hollywood has done a real disservice to the Satanist by always falsely portraying him as a sex crazed murdering psychopath. Some Evangelical teachings have quite a different opinion altogether. The Satanist is seen as the #1 enemy of the church. In fact, I'm willing to bet that even a good majority of Satanists don't quite understand Satanism or adhere to it "rules" properly.
You know, in my humble opinion, most North American churchgoers, particularly in the USA appear to be closer to the actual definition of a Satanist rather than living out Christ's demonstration of unconditional Love for your neighbour. Dying to self (as opposed to living for self) is all but unseen in Christian circles. At least the real Satanist admits it!
And now, with THAT can of wormy Pandoric box opened, let me continue...
Surrey (given City status in 1993) has been in the News too often lately. You know, that kind of News that makes "good copy". Negative News, Horrific News, Frightening News, unsettling News etc. Surrey will never, so it would seem, let us down with sensational News.
Whats your flavour? Gang drive-by shootings, gang murders, drugs, arson, murder, sexual assaults, B&E's, child abduction, grow-ops, illegal suites, corruption, 4 hour wait times at Surrey Memorial Hospital, random violence on transit, car chases, races and crashes? In fact, CTV News named Surrey the car theft capital of North America in 2002. It's all there amongst half a million Surreyites packed neatly into 122 square miles of area that was not too long ago, mostly farm land.
To be fair, not all of Surrey is bad (so I'm told) in fact, some of Her ethnic gang mentality seems to have crossed the river into my area of East Vancouver. Groups of South Asians (proven by news/police charges not based on prejudice) are beginning to fight and race around South Vancouver hurting each other and Asian gang members from Richmond. (again...verified).
Back to that tenant of Satanism: "Do unto others as they do unto you." AS YOU SO DECIDE WHO IS WORTHY (author's addition) This is left wide open to interpretation isn't it? Give compassion to those you decide are worthy of it. Give mercy only to the Ones deserving it based upon your own prejudice of skin colour, type of motorbike they ride, wealth, religion, former home on the planet, job status whether or not they stand up to piss....
Seems silly and arbitrary when you ponder it doesn't it? Alas, thats what a true Satanist does...so my research suggests.
Now, back to the nice people in the church. Whenever there is a need, a true "hey, can you come out and lend a hand" kind of need, you can always count on the same 8% to muck in. Believe me, I've seen it first hand in 4 different churches in 4 different areas where I was heavily involved with the people of the community.
So, why is it that the church points to Satanists as a threat and Satanists point to the church as archaic and failed?
Why do we really care what others think?
What of the people that are not involved in any "faith group"? Do they muck in more or about the same as everyone else?
There was a guy pushing a shopping cart of belongings along a road at 3:30 am and he was hit from behind by a Semi truck and trailer. Yes, he was in the road...but the truck driver didn't stop! Better still is the PT Cruiser driver that passed by the carnage all across the street less than 10 minutes later. Rest easy gentle reader, CCTV footage has been able to help Police locate the truck driver. The PT driver is next.
Lots of Love displayed there huh?
What about me? I must admit, if you're having difficulty in any kind of situation, I won't hesitate to help you. Rain or shine, day or night, Surrey or Disneyland...unless you're in a luxury car dressed to the hilt!
So yeah...I identify with this problem, too.
My ignorant rationalization is that if you've got that much money, you can pay someone to help you out which in turn helps them out. I'll stick to assisting the slob that barely makes ends meet (unless of course I know you and Love you, then I don't care if you're rich or poor) The snag here is that I must first generalize and assume...
What about you? Where do you fit in? Do you help everyone? No-one? Some people? GASP! Are you a Satanist or Surreyite?
This thing called life sure is tricky isn't it?
Peace
Monday, March 16, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
left out but important none the less
Theres a guy I know that i've nicknamed The Undertaker which is very fitting if you see him and the bonus is that he really likes the handle. We're friends and he asks if he can come with me on the truck as my swamper regularly. I don't mind the company. I buy us 7-11 coffees and the occasional "kiss me quick" lunches. I can't afford to get us lunch every day but I would if I could. He rants about fast food. A rare treat for him...a pleasure to watch him salivate over food I usually target for some slanderous Facebook posts.
You've met him in past posts.
The reason I mention him is because he's lonely. He has no friends and is left out of absolutely everything. He suffers depression to a degree that makes my own diagnosis seem like a bad passing memory by comparison. I'm on meds, he's on disability, plus a cocktail of meds, regular specialist visits, MIR's and regular scans to monitor his brain activity.
He used to have seizures, LOTS of them but brain surgery has made them dormant for the time being.
When he isn't with me, he walks around Vancouver looking at buildings and girls while being genuinely nice to all comers. Or he lays on his bed in his room for hours on end wishing that he had somewhere to be. Go pace out a 12x12 area in your home and think about living in that space for 3 years. He does that day in, day out. His space is tiny. He is 6 foot 4.
Every work day, I go to this one grocery store in a chain to pick up day old pastries that they donate to the organization I drive for. The staff are friendly in spite of dealing with many rude entitled customers day in day out that seem to have all but forgotten kindness. Difficult for this blabbermouth to hold his tongue most days.
Anyway, theres this older woman in a tiny kiosk selling BC Lottery Association tickets and misnamed Scratch and Win cards. She looks pathetically lonely! Her starving eyes scan passersby but her tractor beam doesn't engage many. I see her 5 times a week and occasionally save my weekly lottery ticket for her to check. She's very friendly, professional and is always smiling...when someone is with her. Otherwise, to me it looks as if she is on the verge of tears. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it!
When was the last time that you were left out of something? Friends didn't call but went to a movie, family members got together for a meal, mates from work went to lunch, the guys hit the pub, coffee with the girls that you didn't hear about...
It sucks doesn't it? Those moments when you're on the outside, not included even though you know for a fact that you're very important and likable.
I know what that feels like. Worse still, is that I know that I have friends that know what that feels like! We al get lonely!
Theres a guy that hangs outside my local Government liquor store begging for coins. He gets pretty chatty when you let him and he greets every single person with a "hello" or a "good day" He has a tin plate on his lap for coins should you feel gracious with any change, but he NEVER asks.
I've spent time chatting with him. Sometimes it's difficult to understand him but his eyes are always beaming. He says that he gets cold and lonely.
Saying that he hangs out at the liquor store is misleading, I'm sorry.
He's confined to a mobile bed/chair and can only move his head, right arm and hand. He's usually wrapped in blankets. I'll ask him his story next time, after all, he knows that I see him.
It's a new week tomorrow, we've sprung ahead! Bright eyed and bushy tailed! Call someone, visit someone. Go outdoors and sit with a pensioner and ask them how they are. You may want to take a pad and pencil...I'm guessing they'll be a story to retell.
Peace
You've met him in past posts.
The reason I mention him is because he's lonely. He has no friends and is left out of absolutely everything. He suffers depression to a degree that makes my own diagnosis seem like a bad passing memory by comparison. I'm on meds, he's on disability, plus a cocktail of meds, regular specialist visits, MIR's and regular scans to monitor his brain activity.
He used to have seizures, LOTS of them but brain surgery has made them dormant for the time being.
When he isn't with me, he walks around Vancouver looking at buildings and girls while being genuinely nice to all comers. Or he lays on his bed in his room for hours on end wishing that he had somewhere to be. Go pace out a 12x12 area in your home and think about living in that space for 3 years. He does that day in, day out. His space is tiny. He is 6 foot 4.
Every work day, I go to this one grocery store in a chain to pick up day old pastries that they donate to the organization I drive for. The staff are friendly in spite of dealing with many rude entitled customers day in day out that seem to have all but forgotten kindness. Difficult for this blabbermouth to hold his tongue most days.
Anyway, theres this older woman in a tiny kiosk selling BC Lottery Association tickets and misnamed Scratch and Win cards. She looks pathetically lonely! Her starving eyes scan passersby but her tractor beam doesn't engage many. I see her 5 times a week and occasionally save my weekly lottery ticket for her to check. She's very friendly, professional and is always smiling...when someone is with her. Otherwise, to me it looks as if she is on the verge of tears. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it!
When was the last time that you were left out of something? Friends didn't call but went to a movie, family members got together for a meal, mates from work went to lunch, the guys hit the pub, coffee with the girls that you didn't hear about...
It sucks doesn't it? Those moments when you're on the outside, not included even though you know for a fact that you're very important and likable.
I know what that feels like. Worse still, is that I know that I have friends that know what that feels like! We al get lonely!
Theres a guy that hangs outside my local Government liquor store begging for coins. He gets pretty chatty when you let him and he greets every single person with a "hello" or a "good day" He has a tin plate on his lap for coins should you feel gracious with any change, but he NEVER asks.
I've spent time chatting with him. Sometimes it's difficult to understand him but his eyes are always beaming. He says that he gets cold and lonely.
Saying that he hangs out at the liquor store is misleading, I'm sorry.
He's confined to a mobile bed/chair and can only move his head, right arm and hand. He's usually wrapped in blankets. I'll ask him his story next time, after all, he knows that I see him.
It's a new week tomorrow, we've sprung ahead! Bright eyed and bushy tailed! Call someone, visit someone. Go outdoors and sit with a pensioner and ask them how they are. You may want to take a pad and pencil...I'm guessing they'll be a story to retell.
Peace
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Peaceful Resting
So I was driving the truck the other day. I had the Undertaker as my swamper. You remember the Undertaker. He stands 6' 4", weighs about 220, and frightens children the minute they see him in the dark. He's the guy that had his skull surgically removed so they could remove 2 grams of his brain in order to alter whatever it was that gave him chronic seizures. He actually told me about the procedure. He was awake the whole time. He felt nothing, he told jokes, but he did feel pressure as they stapled his skull cap back together. Anyway, I digress. The Undertaker lives in the Laurel Apartments. This building should probably be burnt down due to rats, bedbugs, lice...you get the idea...but the Undertaker is happy.
So he's in the truck with me the other day and we dropped lunch program goods at a school in Burnaby. As we're coming down Royal Oak I mention that Oakalla Prison Farm used to be on the right, and Harry worked there. Harry BSed them on the interview and ended up in a tower with a shotgun and a sidearm as the inmates grazed cattle, herded pigs, and whatever else they did on the farm. The prison is long-gone and there's townhouses there. I wonder if the tenants hear voices at night crying, wailing. One of our last executions occurred in Oakalla, if memory serves correct. They shut this archaic building in '92.
So the Undertaker is looking at the townhouses and the lower grassy meadow that used to be farmland, and he wonders if there was any rehabilitation. As you begin to drive uphill northbound on Royal Oak, Forest Lawn Cemetery is on your left. Harry used to call that hill "The hill of the dead and the forgotten". There are so many flowers and wreaths and flags and momentos in this graveyard. I have to do mental gymnastics to look upon hundreds and hundreds of dead with beauty laid on top of them. The Undertaker wondered why anyone would want to be buried in the dirt. He figures we should all be recycled in organ donor scientific study.
As we carry on our way, we ended up in Vancouver's DTES. This is where the Undertaker lives and this is where he walks around and tries to inject happiness into other people's lives. He laments because he understands that so many people down here have 2 options. They've come out of prison and they are heading to that graveyard. He wonders why in one of the richest countries, in one of the most prosperous provinces, the current government turns their back on human beings. The Undertaker usually talks endlessly, continuously...it's all to do with his meds and his surgeries, but as we drove past the hurting, invisible desperate people he fell silent. I have never heard him say nothing.
Peace.
So he's in the truck with me the other day and we dropped lunch program goods at a school in Burnaby. As we're coming down Royal Oak I mention that Oakalla Prison Farm used to be on the right, and Harry worked there. Harry BSed them on the interview and ended up in a tower with a shotgun and a sidearm as the inmates grazed cattle, herded pigs, and whatever else they did on the farm. The prison is long-gone and there's townhouses there. I wonder if the tenants hear voices at night crying, wailing. One of our last executions occurred in Oakalla, if memory serves correct. They shut this archaic building in '92.
So the Undertaker is looking at the townhouses and the lower grassy meadow that used to be farmland, and he wonders if there was any rehabilitation. As you begin to drive uphill northbound on Royal Oak, Forest Lawn Cemetery is on your left. Harry used to call that hill "The hill of the dead and the forgotten". There are so many flowers and wreaths and flags and momentos in this graveyard. I have to do mental gymnastics to look upon hundreds and hundreds of dead with beauty laid on top of them. The Undertaker wondered why anyone would want to be buried in the dirt. He figures we should all be recycled in organ donor scientific study.
As we carry on our way, we ended up in Vancouver's DTES. This is where the Undertaker lives and this is where he walks around and tries to inject happiness into other people's lives. He laments because he understands that so many people down here have 2 options. They've come out of prison and they are heading to that graveyard. He wonders why in one of the richest countries, in one of the most prosperous provinces, the current government turns their back on human beings. The Undertaker usually talks endlessly, continuously...it's all to do with his meds and his surgeries, but as we drove past the hurting, invisible desperate people he fell silent. I have never heard him say nothing.
Peace.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Whats it all abut Alphie
I saw a new Lamborghini with the graduated BC drivers licence mandatory "L" designation on it today. Lime green, the colour of the sleek unit, isn't my favourite choice of the hue, but then again Ferrucci Lamborghini's followers don't design cars that interest me. To each his/her own I guess.
So I'm guessing the Lambo comes in at $400+K and buddy is a new driver in BC.
He may be young or mature, seasoned driver or novice...but in BC, he's new and he drove as if he was.
The thing boasts between 500 and 700 horsepower which means 0 to 100km in like 2 seconds...but I digress.
Buddy didn't signal when swapping lanes on Hastings and he raced to every red light. My work truck chugs along and I don't speed...we met at each light. Maybe I'm an idiot, but if I spent large bank on a car, I'd drive with loads more deliberate care! In fact, I do!
A&W is running a special, Mama burger combo for $5. I had The Undertaker with me swamping today. You recall him yes? He's had brain surgery, suffers depression and lives in a shitty manky SRO in Vancouver's infamous DTES...anyway, I bought him lunch.
Again, with all due respect to Allen and Wright, that food isn't amazing...but The Undertaker LOVES it and it's a treat.
He's been to the restaurant twice in about 10 years due to lack of money. I've been with him on both occasions.
I had root beer, he had coffee with the combo.
GRAPHIC ALERT
The Undertaker used to have on average, 60 seizures a day and the brain professionals couldn't figure out why. After much thought (ironic) they decided to poke at his brain. Whilst he was awake and aware, they sawed a portion of his skull off to expose his gray matter. He tells me that he heard the "crunching" but felt nothing.
Anyway, his brain is 2 grams lighter than when he went in. Seizures continued, blah blah blah.....
Then one day, they stopped! The Complete Brained people can't figure out why. He doesn't care. He has "normal life" to show for it and hand tremors. ( I love buying him overfull coffees to watch him shake and spill them)
He suffers major depression but has decided to be my unpaid Truck Monkey 5 days a week because " I help him see things better". Brother...you're teaching me!
He stirs his coffee counter clockwise. Who does that?
Last week along the bitter portion of Hastings street, 2 guys approached him in order to sell him some hash. (I didn't know that hash was still around. My go-to drug 20+ years ago) He took a look and asked how much. They said $30 and he laughed and said maybe $10 and walked away. He smokes weed when he can afford it. A guy in skid row sells him shake. He's found hair, a penny, twist ties and crumbs in it. He suspects the shake is swept up off of some kitchen floor. Works for him he says, low tolerance...
Anyway, these 2 idiots stat following him taunting him at 6:15 in the blessed am. He turns and politely says "go away"
The undertaker is 6 foot 5 and the nickname I've given him fits like a glove! He LOOKS like a mortician. So these guys carry...and he gets agitated. Those Happy Drugs that we're both on can't always mellow out adrenaline.
He throws one guy rolling into the street (too early for heavy traffic. Bad planning) and bounces the other guy off of a brick wall. He continues walking to meet me whilst these tuff guys are licking their wounds.
The reason I tell you this is because I want you to see how The Undertaker dealt with it.
He was sad. Filled with remorse. He hated that he raised his hand to these two guys. He didn't come on the truck that day. He walked home to his bedbug infested room and lay on his bed for about 17 hours.
The other day, I went with Paula to the Cannibal Cafe on Commercial drive. Wing Wednesdays. $5 wings and beer. For a moment I agonized over what flavour I wanted my pound of chicken arms. I eventually made my choice. The beer was an easy one to make.
(there's a theme in this post)
We hired a guy that said that he had several years driving truck. Nice guy, worked hard in the warehouse and he seemed to be keen. You needn't be a genius to drive truck on hi ways, but in the inner creases of Vancouver, it takes a bit of skill. I log 60km every day in the city and I love it. I could have swapped my run for hiway/warehouse loading when they hired the new guy, but I declined. My day is full of humans, traffic and hand bombing product. No warehousemen loading pallets on my truck.
So the new guy is on day 4 and my boss lets him drive hiway while he sits shotgun. Success! I get in early but have1 more pick up to do. I ask if he can come to see where yet another vender is, granted.
I let him drive because the boss did earlier.
11 minutes later during a right turn into an alley, he peels off the front end of a $46K Mercedes.
I've driven professionally longer than not, I'm thinking he wasn't a truck driver.
They let him go.
Choices.
We all make choices hundreds of times each day, from picking cherries or corn flakes to lying to the awkward friend and telling him you're busy tonight.
But who else is affect by our choices? Can we have a prejudiced mind over the choices of others?
Lime green exotic car. Really? Bright pink Liberty Mowhawk? LuLuLemon for everyday wear?
A&W for lunch?
Or our BIG choices, think of those ones...
Throwing a large rock into a pond is harmless...it's the ripples that warrant concern.
Peace
So I'm guessing the Lambo comes in at $400+K and buddy is a new driver in BC.
He may be young or mature, seasoned driver or novice...but in BC, he's new and he drove as if he was.
The thing boasts between 500 and 700 horsepower which means 0 to 100km in like 2 seconds...but I digress.
Buddy didn't signal when swapping lanes on Hastings and he raced to every red light. My work truck chugs along and I don't speed...we met at each light. Maybe I'm an idiot, but if I spent large bank on a car, I'd drive with loads more deliberate care! In fact, I do!
A&W is running a special, Mama burger combo for $5. I had The Undertaker with me swamping today. You recall him yes? He's had brain surgery, suffers depression and lives in a shitty manky SRO in Vancouver's infamous DTES...anyway, I bought him lunch.
Again, with all due respect to Allen and Wright, that food isn't amazing...but The Undertaker LOVES it and it's a treat.
He's been to the restaurant twice in about 10 years due to lack of money. I've been with him on both occasions.
I had root beer, he had coffee with the combo.
GRAPHIC ALERT
The Undertaker used to have on average, 60 seizures a day and the brain professionals couldn't figure out why. After much thought (ironic) they decided to poke at his brain. Whilst he was awake and aware, they sawed a portion of his skull off to expose his gray matter. He tells me that he heard the "crunching" but felt nothing.
Anyway, his brain is 2 grams lighter than when he went in. Seizures continued, blah blah blah.....
Then one day, they stopped! The Complete Brained people can't figure out why. He doesn't care. He has "normal life" to show for it and hand tremors. ( I love buying him overfull coffees to watch him shake and spill them)
He suffers major depression but has decided to be my unpaid Truck Monkey 5 days a week because " I help him see things better". Brother...you're teaching me!
He stirs his coffee counter clockwise. Who does that?
Last week along the bitter portion of Hastings street, 2 guys approached him in order to sell him some hash. (I didn't know that hash was still around. My go-to drug 20+ years ago) He took a look and asked how much. They said $30 and he laughed and said maybe $10 and walked away. He smokes weed when he can afford it. A guy in skid row sells him shake. He's found hair, a penny, twist ties and crumbs in it. He suspects the shake is swept up off of some kitchen floor. Works for him he says, low tolerance...
Anyway, these 2 idiots stat following him taunting him at 6:15 in the blessed am. He turns and politely says "go away"
The undertaker is 6 foot 5 and the nickname I've given him fits like a glove! He LOOKS like a mortician. So these guys carry...and he gets agitated. Those Happy Drugs that we're both on can't always mellow out adrenaline.
He throws one guy rolling into the street (too early for heavy traffic. Bad planning) and bounces the other guy off of a brick wall. He continues walking to meet me whilst these tuff guys are licking their wounds.
The reason I tell you this is because I want you to see how The Undertaker dealt with it.
He was sad. Filled with remorse. He hated that he raised his hand to these two guys. He didn't come on the truck that day. He walked home to his bedbug infested room and lay on his bed for about 17 hours.
The other day, I went with Paula to the Cannibal Cafe on Commercial drive. Wing Wednesdays. $5 wings and beer. For a moment I agonized over what flavour I wanted my pound of chicken arms. I eventually made my choice. The beer was an easy one to make.
(there's a theme in this post)
We hired a guy that said that he had several years driving truck. Nice guy, worked hard in the warehouse and he seemed to be keen. You needn't be a genius to drive truck on hi ways, but in the inner creases of Vancouver, it takes a bit of skill. I log 60km every day in the city and I love it. I could have swapped my run for hiway/warehouse loading when they hired the new guy, but I declined. My day is full of humans, traffic and hand bombing product. No warehousemen loading pallets on my truck.
So the new guy is on day 4 and my boss lets him drive hiway while he sits shotgun. Success! I get in early but have1 more pick up to do. I ask if he can come to see where yet another vender is, granted.
I let him drive because the boss did earlier.
11 minutes later during a right turn into an alley, he peels off the front end of a $46K Mercedes.
I've driven professionally longer than not, I'm thinking he wasn't a truck driver.
They let him go.
Choices.
We all make choices hundreds of times each day, from picking cherries or corn flakes to lying to the awkward friend and telling him you're busy tonight.
But who else is affect by our choices? Can we have a prejudiced mind over the choices of others?
Lime green exotic car. Really? Bright pink Liberty Mowhawk? LuLuLemon for everyday wear?
A&W for lunch?
Or our BIG choices, think of those ones...
Throwing a large rock into a pond is harmless...it's the ripples that warrant concern.
Peace
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Heavy pressures of the past presently present.
I had a nap the other day. I think I work too hard and it may be catching up to me. I work full time driving truck and part time at the group home not to mention trying to learn this blasted ukelele with classes once a week.
My wife keeps me tired too, but thats good tired. Welcomed tired.
But damn I'm dragging.
So I nap sometimes. Its come to that.
The other day while absorbed in thick sleep, I dreamed of my dad Harry. I was a teenager back in North Vancouver and I was doing my chores around the apartment complex that my mum managed.
Harry would often govern my chores...certainly afterwards if not during. He worked too ya know! Didn't have time to chase after 2 idiot sons...
So in my dream I was sweeping up in the 40 stall underground parkade that usually saw me net about 300 cigarette butts and the odd bit of paper trash in my handy scooper. Every 3 or 4 months I'd take a large push broom to the entire area. I hated that day!
How difficult do you s'pose it is to sweep butts into a catcher pan? You've seen the sort.
But Harry watched in my dream. It was surreal and vivid and realistic.
He'd come down to the parkade to check up on me in real life.
Do you know he'd point out any trash that I missed? Cars came and went as I swept up...could have happened anytime!
We had grass on the boulevard and there was a bus stop there. Another chore saw me picking up trash with a spear I made. Why bend over when I could stab the paper crap rolling along the grass?
Harry's place was 3 stories above that grass. "OI, you missed a bit back there!" he'd shout and point.
I also painted suites when people moved out, bachelours, 1, 2 and 3 bedroom appartments. I was rather good at it and quick...but Harry would mention shortfalls.
"You left a bit of a mess in the sink in the tool room after you cleaned up..." What was I then? 17 I think.
Maybe Harry's tutelage created the workforce that I am now? Still...that pisses off a kid!
I used to cut the grass too. I recall Harry showing me areas that were missed from our 3rd floor balcony. I tried.
Dreams are funny. They provoke memories.
As you know, I work in an emergency receiving group home. Tonight, I managed to talk a very stoned 16 year old heroin addict into cleaning her room. I'm fond of this kid! I'd like to rescue her! I began by telling her that I bet she couldn't deal with her room in 30 minutes. Her room is derelict! (am I the only one that works there?)
She took up the challenge giving me the usual sass and taking mine in stride.
Talk about impressive! This kid tidied, thru in laundry, vacuumed, sanitized and hung up clothes in record time! Protocol says I'm meant to check her room, but I didn't.
I told her that I was satisfied with the job if SHE was satisfied with the job. She tried!
Later on, my co-worker said it was well done.
Years ago, a dad called me to set up a meeting with him. I'm game for anything!
He told me about his frustrations with his 17 year old son. "the kid lay around all weekend and I have to badger him into doing any jobs around here" I asked what kind of jobs.
Usual stuff. Taking out the trash, clean the room, homework, put away dishes, walk the dog, cut the grass....
Theres a nerve!
Tell me about him cutting the grass.
"It takes me forever to finally get him out there and then he does a lousy job!"
Really...how?
"He misses the edge, clips flowers and it looks like mow hawk hairstyles in several areas"
So what do you do?
"I show him the crappy job and do it again myself! If you want anything done right..."
I remember asking him if his grass was more important than his relationship with his son. Of course he said no. I pointed out that he tries.
I challenged him to set the kid to the task and NOT CHECK IT afterwards.
He really struggled with the instruction.
Towards summer's end, he noticed that he didn't have to ask the kid to get out and cut the grass and he no longer cared about the quality of the job the boy did. It got better however...and the kid seemed to enjoy the task. Funny that.
My friend Ray is on Social Assistance and lives in a nasty SRO in Vancouver. You remember Ray?
Ray goes about binning and manages to keep himself in crapy beer for his bottle collecting efforts, he also sweeps up and rakes leaves for a few local businesses for roughly $3 an hour. Its smoke money he tells me.
Ray pulls 2 big trash cans from an apartment complex into the alley each week in the West End of Vancouver so the truck can tip them.
The Asian apartment manager gives Ray $24 a month for his efforts. Saves the manager doing the job. Ray is crowding 60 and he says that he has nothing better to do. He's an alcoholic with a shitty track record of jobs and addresses. Not what you'd call hireable. But he tries.
The Undertaker is that odd dude that I welcome on my truck whenever he wants to help swamp. I like the guy a lot but he talks none stop. Literally, non stop.
The other morning he was walking up Hastings street to meet me at the truck and 2 guys stopped him. At 6:30am they asked if he wanted to buy some hash (I didn't even know hash was still around) They said $20 and showed him the chunk. He giggled and said "I'll give you a dollar"
Offended, they came at him but they ended up worse for wear. The Undertaker made it to my truck but was too grieved to work. He was physically ok but felt horrible for smacking the 2 clowns around. He also felt bad because he was going to let me down swapping for the day. Hey man, you're a luxury on my truck...you tried!
I sent him home to read, chill and forgive himself.
Isn't it funny how we beat ourselves up when we think we've failed? Or worse, when we've been told that we've failed?
We keep track of our shortcomings. We brood.
I'm sure Hawkeye Pierce could tell you how many lives he's lost...but that he has no idea how many he's saved!
I'm guilty first hand! If you follow me on social network sites, you'll notice how I moan about early morning commuters that try to kill me as I ride my motorbike to and fro...but I rarely communicate a good trip without issue.
All this to say...no, to suggest, that you try and ponder the good and let the bad go away.
At least you can try.
Peace
My wife keeps me tired too, but thats good tired. Welcomed tired.
But damn I'm dragging.
So I nap sometimes. Its come to that.
The other day while absorbed in thick sleep, I dreamed of my dad Harry. I was a teenager back in North Vancouver and I was doing my chores around the apartment complex that my mum managed.
Harry would often govern my chores...certainly afterwards if not during. He worked too ya know! Didn't have time to chase after 2 idiot sons...
So in my dream I was sweeping up in the 40 stall underground parkade that usually saw me net about 300 cigarette butts and the odd bit of paper trash in my handy scooper. Every 3 or 4 months I'd take a large push broom to the entire area. I hated that day!
How difficult do you s'pose it is to sweep butts into a catcher pan? You've seen the sort.
But Harry watched in my dream. It was surreal and vivid and realistic.
He'd come down to the parkade to check up on me in real life.
Do you know he'd point out any trash that I missed? Cars came and went as I swept up...could have happened anytime!
We had grass on the boulevard and there was a bus stop there. Another chore saw me picking up trash with a spear I made. Why bend over when I could stab the paper crap rolling along the grass?
Harry's place was 3 stories above that grass. "OI, you missed a bit back there!" he'd shout and point.
I also painted suites when people moved out, bachelours, 1, 2 and 3 bedroom appartments. I was rather good at it and quick...but Harry would mention shortfalls.
"You left a bit of a mess in the sink in the tool room after you cleaned up..." What was I then? 17 I think.
Maybe Harry's tutelage created the workforce that I am now? Still...that pisses off a kid!
I used to cut the grass too. I recall Harry showing me areas that were missed from our 3rd floor balcony. I tried.
Dreams are funny. They provoke memories.
As you know, I work in an emergency receiving group home. Tonight, I managed to talk a very stoned 16 year old heroin addict into cleaning her room. I'm fond of this kid! I'd like to rescue her! I began by telling her that I bet she couldn't deal with her room in 30 minutes. Her room is derelict! (am I the only one that works there?)
She took up the challenge giving me the usual sass and taking mine in stride.
Talk about impressive! This kid tidied, thru in laundry, vacuumed, sanitized and hung up clothes in record time! Protocol says I'm meant to check her room, but I didn't.
I told her that I was satisfied with the job if SHE was satisfied with the job. She tried!
Later on, my co-worker said it was well done.
Years ago, a dad called me to set up a meeting with him. I'm game for anything!
He told me about his frustrations with his 17 year old son. "the kid lay around all weekend and I have to badger him into doing any jobs around here" I asked what kind of jobs.
Usual stuff. Taking out the trash, clean the room, homework, put away dishes, walk the dog, cut the grass....
Theres a nerve!
Tell me about him cutting the grass.
"It takes me forever to finally get him out there and then he does a lousy job!"
Really...how?
"He misses the edge, clips flowers and it looks like mow hawk hairstyles in several areas"
So what do you do?
"I show him the crappy job and do it again myself! If you want anything done right..."
I remember asking him if his grass was more important than his relationship with his son. Of course he said no. I pointed out that he tries.
I challenged him to set the kid to the task and NOT CHECK IT afterwards.
He really struggled with the instruction.
Towards summer's end, he noticed that he didn't have to ask the kid to get out and cut the grass and he no longer cared about the quality of the job the boy did. It got better however...and the kid seemed to enjoy the task. Funny that.
My friend Ray is on Social Assistance and lives in a nasty SRO in Vancouver. You remember Ray?
Ray goes about binning and manages to keep himself in crapy beer for his bottle collecting efforts, he also sweeps up and rakes leaves for a few local businesses for roughly $3 an hour. Its smoke money he tells me.
Ray pulls 2 big trash cans from an apartment complex into the alley each week in the West End of Vancouver so the truck can tip them.
The Asian apartment manager gives Ray $24 a month for his efforts. Saves the manager doing the job. Ray is crowding 60 and he says that he has nothing better to do. He's an alcoholic with a shitty track record of jobs and addresses. Not what you'd call hireable. But he tries.
The Undertaker is that odd dude that I welcome on my truck whenever he wants to help swamp. I like the guy a lot but he talks none stop. Literally, non stop.
The other morning he was walking up Hastings street to meet me at the truck and 2 guys stopped him. At 6:30am they asked if he wanted to buy some hash (I didn't even know hash was still around) They said $20 and showed him the chunk. He giggled and said "I'll give you a dollar"
Offended, they came at him but they ended up worse for wear. The Undertaker made it to my truck but was too grieved to work. He was physically ok but felt horrible for smacking the 2 clowns around. He also felt bad because he was going to let me down swapping for the day. Hey man, you're a luxury on my truck...you tried!
I sent him home to read, chill and forgive himself.
Isn't it funny how we beat ourselves up when we think we've failed? Or worse, when we've been told that we've failed?
We keep track of our shortcomings. We brood.
I'm sure Hawkeye Pierce could tell you how many lives he's lost...but that he has no idea how many he's saved!
I'm guilty first hand! If you follow me on social network sites, you'll notice how I moan about early morning commuters that try to kill me as I ride my motorbike to and fro...but I rarely communicate a good trip without issue.
All this to say...no, to suggest, that you try and ponder the good and let the bad go away.
At least you can try.
Peace
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Mirror into the abyss
Today was Cheque Day in MetroVancouver, also know as Mardi Gras around the Downtown East Side of the City because "everyone parties like they're a millionaire on a holiday" which lasts about 3 days and then the soup kitchens have their usual queues numbering over 100 souls.
I drove past one of those Hipster Haven places just before 9am and there was already a queue of about 50 people wanting to buy take away beer. The Astoria bar on Hastings street has seen some changes, lots of gigs and dances during the week nights, but this morning...it was very sad looking out there. Not a Hipster to be seen...
90% of the people I noticed on the streets today "living the good life" were men. Why is that I thought? Then it hit me! I wager the majority of women that take Social Assistance each month, are home with kids trying to make ends meet while the dad of the kids is nowhere to be found...save the Astoria type line ups.
I personally know many people on the dole that in my all knowing opinion, shouldn't be. They COULD work. They're around every day and able-bodied.
The snag in the plan though, is that they might have to take a job paying $12 an hour that offers no benefits. After taxes,they might see $1600 a month in which to pay shocking rents (thank you Mayor Gregor) buy food, bus tix, toiletries etc.etc.
Not possible! So, go on Welfare and get your below poverty level tuppence, get medical and dental when its an emergency, take a curse or upgrade, hit the food banks and soup kitchens, dumpster dive, drink, smoke watch tv and enjoy the summer. Quite the scam! (I know a Native guy who not only has his Status Card, but he lies about where he lives for cheapICBC truck insurance, draws a disability cheque AND works full time! Oh yeah, he's on meds paid out by WCB and uses medicinal weed. His wife is a full-time nurse (different last name) they live in a Condo and just bought another one to rent out...)
What the BC Government offers as theSocial Safety Net is not enough to sustain a good lifestyle anywhere in the Province. It does however, create lots of Provincial jobs to insure things barely roll along.
Before you start chirping about drug addicts, drunks, ex-cons etc.etc, allow me to point out that if you've "got it made" I'm willing to bet you had help and support along the way. I don't know too many people that started with nothing. Maybe I'm wrong? I do know this though, life is very difficult and if you haven't got money, friends and family to get you started...you too could end up in very difficult situations.
I saw a guy pissing in an alley today and said hello. (after he was done) He told me that no stores will let him use the toilet. Here's the thing, I stand to piss outdoors too!
I couldn't really see a difference between that man and a hungover Hipster in Gastown on Sunday morning. I guess the difference is that the Hipster could afford to BUY something and in so doing, gain the right to use the toilet.
What a messed up attitude!
I guess a hungry guy with a full bladder can do more damage to the toilet than a half drunk Hipster. (think about that for a moment)
I was walking past Save On Meats (google them, you can help people thru them) and these 3 idiots behind me were talking very loudly, mocking people and places: "OH YEAH, I SO WANT TO LIVE IN EAST VAN. CAN'T WAIT TO GET DOWN HERE..." I found myself surprised by my emotion. I wanted to slap the 3 20-something pukes back to the Suburbs to the safety of their parents closeness.
I gathered that they were fortunately NOT moving into the area and were simply passing through to enjoy their playdate together.
Funny isn't it? I'm as bad as they are...different target group p'raps but the ignorance and rudeness is in tact.
Side thought for free: I wonder how much crime has to do with gaining money? I bet if greed and riches were off the table, crime would plummet!
So there I was today, driving truck around the GVRD noticing people with extra large pizzas and other takeaway foods living good. Big money to be made in poverty.
Truth is, if poverty was eliminated, I'd be out of my 2 jobs.
Peace
I drove past one of those Hipster Haven places just before 9am and there was already a queue of about 50 people wanting to buy take away beer. The Astoria bar on Hastings street has seen some changes, lots of gigs and dances during the week nights, but this morning...it was very sad looking out there. Not a Hipster to be seen...
90% of the people I noticed on the streets today "living the good life" were men. Why is that I thought? Then it hit me! I wager the majority of women that take Social Assistance each month, are home with kids trying to make ends meet while the dad of the kids is nowhere to be found...save the Astoria type line ups.
I personally know many people on the dole that in my all knowing opinion, shouldn't be. They COULD work. They're around every day and able-bodied.
The snag in the plan though, is that they might have to take a job paying $12 an hour that offers no benefits. After taxes,they might see $1600 a month in which to pay shocking rents (thank you Mayor Gregor) buy food, bus tix, toiletries etc.etc.
Not possible! So, go on Welfare and get your below poverty level tuppence, get medical and dental when its an emergency, take a curse or upgrade, hit the food banks and soup kitchens, dumpster dive, drink, smoke watch tv and enjoy the summer. Quite the scam! (I know a Native guy who not only has his Status Card, but he lies about where he lives for cheapICBC truck insurance, draws a disability cheque AND works full time! Oh yeah, he's on meds paid out by WCB and uses medicinal weed. His wife is a full-time nurse (different last name) they live in a Condo and just bought another one to rent out...)
What the BC Government offers as theSocial Safety Net is not enough to sustain a good lifestyle anywhere in the Province. It does however, create lots of Provincial jobs to insure things barely roll along.
Before you start chirping about drug addicts, drunks, ex-cons etc.etc, allow me to point out that if you've "got it made" I'm willing to bet you had help and support along the way. I don't know too many people that started with nothing. Maybe I'm wrong? I do know this though, life is very difficult and if you haven't got money, friends and family to get you started...you too could end up in very difficult situations.
I saw a guy pissing in an alley today and said hello. (after he was done) He told me that no stores will let him use the toilet. Here's the thing, I stand to piss outdoors too!
I couldn't really see a difference between that man and a hungover Hipster in Gastown on Sunday morning. I guess the difference is that the Hipster could afford to BUY something and in so doing, gain the right to use the toilet.
What a messed up attitude!
I guess a hungry guy with a full bladder can do more damage to the toilet than a half drunk Hipster. (think about that for a moment)
I was walking past Save On Meats (google them, you can help people thru them) and these 3 idiots behind me were talking very loudly, mocking people and places: "OH YEAH, I SO WANT TO LIVE IN EAST VAN. CAN'T WAIT TO GET DOWN HERE..." I found myself surprised by my emotion. I wanted to slap the 3 20-something pukes back to the Suburbs to the safety of their parents closeness.
I gathered that they were fortunately NOT moving into the area and were simply passing through to enjoy their playdate together.
Funny isn't it? I'm as bad as they are...different target group p'raps but the ignorance and rudeness is in tact.
Side thought for free: I wonder how much crime has to do with gaining money? I bet if greed and riches were off the table, crime would plummet!
So there I was today, driving truck around the GVRD noticing people with extra large pizzas and other takeaway foods living good. Big money to be made in poverty.
Truth is, if poverty was eliminated, I'd be out of my 2 jobs.
Peace
Monday, February 9, 2015
Losing my way in this age of ignorance
At 51, I'm starting to understand a little bit of how my dad possibley felt. Harry was a simple man, a good man but a simple man. Hands in the horse shit bucket to do the garden type of guy! RESPECT!
Harry couldn't cook though and he often used the wrong tools to mend things that would probably need mending again 2 weeks on. He had a very unique view of the World that was a bit skewed to say the least. I often watch old British sitcoms just to hear Harry...
Bless the man! He did his best and that was always good enough and beyond. I miss Harry!
With a foreign English education equalling about grade 6 in Canada during the 70's, Harry answered an ad in the paper and became a prison guard at the infamous Burnaby BC penitentiary named Oakalla. He managed to get through that and ended his work life in a half-way house in Marpole. He retired on Vancouver Island with my mum. Harry could talk to "inmates" quite easily.
Harry was a blue-collar dummy. I mean absolutely no disrespect in giving him that title. I too describe myself as such.
Like my dad before me, I haven't got much, but what I have accomplished, I've done it on my own! Nothing has been given to me. I'm not a member of, as Warren Buffet calls it, The Lucky Sperm Club. Not sure if that makes me more grateful or jealous. Jury is still out.
The World seems to be getting smaller and faster. Thanx (I guess) to technology, we now know what's going on 12,000 miles away in about 42 seconds. I'm old enough to recall a time when we'd hear bits of news about our Southern neighbours probably due to America television feeds. Africa? Middle East? Not a peep. We had a battered black and white tv that got 6 channels on a clear day if Harry was in good enough mood to readjust the roof antenna after a wind storm. "Bloody thing". I recall coming home one day to my excited mum. We got a thing called cable. Now we had about 15 channels. I went into the garden several times looking for that "cable". I never did find where they put it. I wasn't going to touch it...I just wanted to see this new marvel.
I'm about 5 smart phones behind the trends and it's the only gadget I currently own save an introductory Canon camera. Come to think about it, I still don't use either to their apparent potential. I'm a bit dim in that area I guess.
At the grouphome the other night, I had to type out a Missing Person Report on a 17 year old addict on the computer and "save the document to the desktop" I had to wait for relief staff to arrive to show me how to do that. She thought it was "cute" that I didn't know. I took a photo of my report in the event it was lost. (insert laughter, how cutes and eye rolls here)
I remember Harry getting a car with an automatic transmission, he would often gear down when climbing steep hills but take his foot off the gas peddle as he did it as if working a clutch. Poor car.
So yes, my simplicity comes to me honestly. I'm in no way book smart. Hands on chap actually!
My present struggle is trying to master a few chords on my ukelele. They just won't stick in my brain. God knows how you musicians can actually play? Aren't you all on heroin or the Pot?
Still. Mustn't grumble. I'm rather good with humans and can usually chat with anyone. P'raps theres enough people out there who can play ukeleles. I'm not giving in just yet though. My own speed...not anyone else's. I'm doing it for a giggle...no Royal Albert Hall appearances, no desire there.
At the risk of beginning to offer up the illusion that I even know what's going on culturally, I can't help feel that instead of being left behind, p'raps people are in too much of a hurry to obtain and use the latest and greatest trend, that they're missing a few things? Quite like driving too fast to enjoy the view. New things are nice, but the industry has baited us with language like "upgrade" trade up" etc and many of us feel like we MUST obey!
Pay attention to grocery store shelves around September and you may notice NEW AND IMPROVED written on many familiar products. What was the former effort? Old and stagnant?
I went to the motorcycle show a few weeks back, a little over the top for me if truth be told. I didn't see any carburetors anywhere but I did see an electric Harley Davidson. Really? The carbs I knew about but an electric bike? I had no idea.
I wonder where the time went. What else have I missed? What have I been up to?
It seems to me that I have little precious time to sit down and fiddle with some new thing for a few hours in order to figure out how to do something with it that I was already managing to do with its predecessor. I don't get it?
I'm watching a series on Netflix called The Walking Dead. I'm a few seasons behind apparently, even so, I gain personal comfort watching these humans struggle through seemingly insurmountable odds yet still carry on.
So...as I continue to lose my way in this Age of ignorance...MY ignorance, please feel free to join me when all things electric go to shit. I may be of some value to you.
Peace
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