They'll Think of That

Reading week started today. I'm sitting in the library on campus, hanging out while Katey writes a paper for her online course.

The paper has to be four pages, single spaced.

That's three and a half longer than most of the paper I've had to write so far this semester.

And I'm the one doing an English degree.


(Why doesn't that girl at the next table understand what a no cellphone zone means?

I should have tipped that maître d' better)


I lost my keys this morning; at least I couldn't find them. Katey and I searched and searched, which also means didn't speak because both of us would have got angry over the missing keys.

I wish Ikea could come up with some sort of key-storage-device that I could use. Then they could use us in their line of commercials that have been focusing on spousal abuse.

You've likely seen them. There's one that has a family quietly watching television while the narrator, Fraser Crane's brother, tells us how the evening would have gone horribly wrong had the family not have invested in Ikea furniture. There's another one where a husband and wife avoid a battle because of their closet arrangement.



When I first saw these commercials they made me angry; how dare Ikea assume that couples everywhere are so angry that they're prone to boil over at the slightest thing.

But I understand now. If I had a do-ad or thingy that kept my keys in the same place everyday, not to mention my phone, wallet or glasses, I'd be a whole lot safer.

Wasn't life easier when we could leave our doors unlocked and phones stayed attached to the walls? I wouldn't have keys to eventually find next to the washing machine in the basement, nor would I have had the desire to stomp my size 14 through that girls blackberry storm her parents bought her for getting a B on intro to psych.

We Are More

by Shane Koyczan
Performed at the
Opening Cerermonies
in Vancouver

When defining Canada
you might list some statistics
you might mention our tallest building
or biggest lake
you might shake a tree in the fall
and call a red leaf Canada
you might rattle off some celebrities
might mention Buffy Sainte-Marie
might even mention the fact that we've got a few
Barenaked Ladies
or that we made these crazy things
like zippers
electric cars
and washing machines
when defining Canada
it seems the world's anthem has been
" been there done that"
and maybe that's where we used to be at
it's true
we've done and we've been
we've seen
all the great themes get swallowed up by the machine
and turned into theme parks
but when defining Canada
don't forget to mention that we have set sparks
we are not just fishing stories
about the one that got away
we do more than sit around and say "eh?"
and yes
we are the home of the Rocket and the Great One
who inspired little number nines
and little number ninety-nines
but we're more than just hockey and fishing lines
off of the rocky coast of the Maritimes
and some say what defines us
is something as simple as please and thank you
and as for you're welcome
well we say that too
but we are more
than genteel or civilized
we are an idea in the process
of being realized
we are young
we are cultures strung together
then woven into a tapestry
and the design
is what makes us more
than the sum total of our history
we are an experiment going right for a change
with influences that range from a to zed
and yes we say zed instead of zee
we are the colours of Chinatown and the coffee of Little Italy
we dream so big that there are those
who would call our ambition an industry
because we are more than sticky maple syrup and clean snow
we do more than grow wheat and brew beer
we are vineyards of good year after good year
we reforest what we clear
because we believe in generations beyond our own
knowing now that so many of us
have grown past what used to be
we can stand here today
filled with all the hope people have
when they say things like "someday"
someday we'll be great
someday we'll be this
or that
someday we'll be at a point
when someday was yesterday
and all of our aspirations will pay the way
for those who on that day
look towards tomorrow
and still they say someday
we will reach the goals we set
and we will get interest on our inspiration
because we are more than a nation of whale watchers and lumberjacks
more than backpacks and hiking trails
we are hammers and nails building bridges
towards those who are willing to walk across
we are the lost-and-found for all those who might find themselves at a loss
we are not the see-through gloss or glamour
of those who clamour for the failings of others
we are fathers brothers sisters and mothers
uncles and nephews aunts and nieces
we are cousins
we are found missing puzzle pieces
we are families with room at the table for newcomers
we are more than summers and winters
more than on and off seasons
we are the reasons people have for wanting to stay
because we are more than what we say or do
we live to get past what we go through
and learn who we are
we are students
students who study the studiousness of studying
so we know what as well as why
we don't have all the answers
but we try
and the effort is what makes us more
we don't all know what it is in life we're looking for
so keep exploring
go far and wide
or go inside but go deep
go deep
as if James Cameron was filming a sequel to The Abyss
and suddenly there was this location scout
trying to figure some way out
to get inside you
because you've been through hell and high water
and you went deep
keep exploring
because we are more
than a laundry list of things to do and places to see
we are more than hills to ski
or countryside ponds to skate
we are the abandoned hesitation of all those who can't wait
we are first-rate greasy-spoon diners and healthy-living cafes
a country that is all the ways you choose to live
a land that can give you variety
because we are choices
we are millions upon millions of voices shouting
" keep exploring... we are more"
we are the surprise the world has in store for you
it's true
Canada is the "what" in "what's new?"
so don't say "been there done that"
unless you've sat on the sidewalk
while chalk artists draw still lifes
on the concrete of a kid in the street
beatboxing to Neil Young for fun
don't say you've been there done that
unless you've been here doing it
let this country be your first-aid kit
for all the times you get sick of the same old same old
let us be the story told to your friends
and when that story ends
leave chapters for the next time you'll come back
next time pack for all the things
you didn't pack for the first time
but don't let your luggage define your travels
each life unravels differently
and experiences are what make up
the colours of our tapestry
we are the true north
strong and free
and what's more
is that we didn't just say it
we made it be.


Vancouver Sun, Feb 12, 2010

one love

I finished the first part of sense and sensibility, but I've another two parts to read before Monday's class.

Not to mention a movie review, poetry midterm and a take-home all due this week.

My café is getting cold, so I'd better get working on it to. I just wanted to give a quick hello from the local European coffee shack in Stratford.

I'd been having a craving for an espresso for about a week; I felt it time to succumb to the temptation.

Adieu,

--b

sent, with love, from Nowhere, Particular.

Why talk about that

The end of a week, I'm sitting at another coffee shop near campus having another coffee, a simple, over priced sandwich, and a glass of water.

Though that's not much to talk about.

What do I have to talk about today? Geeze, not much really. I've psydo- planned something for the first of the summer, tho I won't know for sure about it for another week or so.

I can't talk about that.

I've been holding a volunteer package to a local school for about a week now and I've had too much school work to sit down with it, not to mention my needing a police check first.

I can't talk about that.

I'm reading midsummer night's dream, sense and sensibility, the tempest, a book of poetry, and some other novel that I've an essay to write eventually.

But that's all business as usual, so why talk about that.

This is comfortable. I like studenting. I feel as though I could do this for a while yet.

I wonder what people think about my being a student again.

Perhaps that's something to talk about.

sent, with love, from class

A Break

So here's the thing. I had a second yoga class today. I felt disorganized. Rushed.

And now I'm sitting at sbux. smelly. having a coffee.

This is counter productive.

Isn't it?

I dont know. I would have thought I should have had a booster juice or
something.

Man. It's been a long time since I've writen.

At Jill and Steve's there was a tea cup that had broken in half.
Cleaved. Like a log. I asked if the madhatter had come for tea recently.

"Oh I couldn't possibly have another. Oh, well, if you insist... just
half a cup though"

I laughed. But I'm a geek like that.

In fact while I'm writing this I am thinking of how to get a costume
together for Burtons "wonderland" that comes out in march.

It would be a nice break from the usual movie going.

Anyone want to join me?

Tshirt

Since I am completely iDdicted to my new gadget I figured I should at least share a bit of what I'm doing with it.

Today, while i was hanging around the second cup on campus between classes, I was staring down at this little device I own.

It's such a little device to demand so much of my attention.

Anyways, as I was staring down at it, waiting for it to do something spectacular a tall shadow fell over the screen. I looked up to and an English prof was smirking at me.

On this particular afternoon a group of a hundred students were gathered together, screaming and chanting and competing for something or other (and five years ago it likely would have been an exciting thing to have watched, but five years ago I was doing my first undegrad and didn't have a new iPhone to stare at while waiting for spectacular to happen).

He asked me how I was able to study with all the noise.

It took me a moment. Wow, I thought. He's asked me a question... and I haven't responded yet.

Mumble mumbled, I replied. Awkwardly star struck. What is wrong with me? I thought. I am more articulate than this.

Well, he said, I suppose if you're plugged in you're likley not to hear any noise at all, are you.

Yes. I'm. Not. It's new.

Indeed, he smiled, see you next class then. It was good talking to you.

Same, said I, same.

Whoops, I swore

Cass,

I know no one hardly uses email anymore, but it holds a special place in my heart. Not as special as the postal service, though I don't use it as often as I might make it sound.

Mostly it holds a special place because I can't stand the Peeping Tom feeling I get when I open a friends profile page in facebook. I like my privacy, though keeping this privacy makes keeping in touch with ppl a lot more work.

I keep a bit of a blog, some points about what i'm doing, funny shit that I happen upon or cause to happen upon other people. I keep it to stay in contact with people whom I've moved away from, which is somehing I've just learned about it. I've never told people about it while I've been living around them. Though while I was tending bar I rarely wrote at all, likely because the friends I made while in ireland don't often use the internet. They are more apt to use the post, which, as mentioned before, I love but never use.

Anyways, Cass, this is an invitation to read about my life, through my blog, if you so wish. This is not to say that a person needs an invitation to read it, just that sometimes it's nice to have one.

We'll talk again soon, and perhaps I'll drop in to see everyone before too long.

In the mean time, take care.

b

Oh, and I've made this a post on my blog, I hiope you don't mind. The link to the site is in my signature.

(this post also marks my first post via my mobile. neat, eh!)

--b

untitled

I am pretty tired so I'll have to make this short. In the background I'm listening to @neilhimself read from his book that I bought for Josie's September birthday, wrapped for christmas and still sits undelivered underneath a Christmas tree that has likely been packed up till next year.

Mands, we should get on that.

The book is called The Graveyard Book in which Neil Gaiman retells the Jungle Book story. I didn't get to the ending, because around November I was feeling guilty about reading a present I bought for an eleven year old girl and I was reading it myself, so I don't know how it ends and I don't know how similar it is.

There's a few hours of Neil reading posted on his website, perhaps I'll fit it in yet tonight.

Though I hope I don't.

Today was Reading Poetry, EN120. I liked it, but it'll be some tough reading. Not a lot of reading, but difficult.

I have to have Sense and Sensibility read by Monday.

Also a play, I am sure. I'll likely have to have a play read by friday.

So much for having thursdays off.

Take care, sleep well and I'll write to you again soon. Perhaps to tell you about the two hours we waited in a line at Wilfs, miss two periods of the Canadian Jr's only to take a bus back to the house, catch the third and over time periods while eating pizza.

Actually, that's pretty much it.

Hair's hoping

Here's hoping that sometime soon i figure out what the heck is going on with the font sizes on this page. when i looked back though it appears as though I've been an eight year old with his first box of crayons and a newly painted hallway.

Moving on to items at hand: today is day 1 of my twelve weeks of an english lit bender. I was hoping that before today I would have had a chance to get a hair cut.

For two reasons. One, because it's my first day of school and I want my new threads looking good underneath a new do.

And two: since I haven't had a trim in a while quite shortly i'll be looking a hell of a lot more frazzled and confused than I actually am. Soon after that I will be as frazzled and confused as I looked before, but my look will have spiralled towards, and out of control mind you, a state of frazz and confus that no woman, man or child alive has bore witness to.

I've class in thirty minutes.

I miss you.

b

Studenting, Part 3

well, first things first.

i am officially enrolled in four classes, all english, for the winter semester. only moments ago i opened an email from a professor who's been helping me along. it was the final link in the chain that had me going to school full time.

that is to say the final link besides the "not having a house" link, but that's a minor link because, well because i'll explain.

dave and i went to visit joel today.

we hadn't been to his new house; we had been invited a few times; we decided it was time to go.

along the way we stopped in university town for me to look at a house, which, as you may or may not know, is not really on the way to joel's house at all, which isn't actually joel's house but kim's but you haven't met her yet so it doesn't really matter.

but we did stop at the house, despite the detour, and i am a better person for it.

dave knows his stuff about the owning and renting of houses. i know my stuff about houses i don't want to live in. i also know my stuff about the signs people put in windows when they are trying to get people to visit their house because they have a room that can be rented out.

there were a few of these signs all around the house that had six people living in it.

tomorrow i am going to look at these houses to see if they want to be houses that Bird Morley lives in, or if they'll simply be houses that Bird Morley visited once for a brief moment.

mostly it was the leaves in the hallways, the dishes in all the sinks and the "i don't really know the other six people who live here, but i'm sure they're normal people" comment from the dude showing the room he had yet to move out of.

all in all it was a good day. joel is doing well living in his friend kim's house.

(this time i am going back to school for a third undergrad but perhaps for a teachable, i haven't quite decided)

Stickies: Nov 5

Stickies: Created Thursday Nov 5, 2009 @ 10:01:55 am EST

it's ten oclock now...

... and today i have to:

- laundry

- photoshop project

- work at five

- work out schedule

- pay rent

- renew gym membership

- clear out katey's laundry room/puddy walls

Stickies: Created Thursday Nov 5, 2009 @ 10:36:58 am EST

things i actually did..

- ate last of a bag of tostitos multigrain rounds

- watched sportscentre am

... ellen

... cp24 for a half hour

- text'd jon

... adam

... leanne

- watched it snow

- ate a bowl of Just Right

- took a poop

... read a few pages of Generation A

- played with photoshop

- turned off Road to Avonlea when it came on

- started a list for katey's christmas present

... but it's got nothing revolutionary on it.

- started writing to steve walkom

- emailed janelle about her schooling

- paid mastercard bill

moving frames

mostly what's happening in my life is boring, generic things. little items of everyday life moving in and out of the frame.

this week i started with a beard, now i have a moustache; but that is completely understood because, as everyone knows, moustaches come from beards.

my rent was due on the first, but i don't want to live at Victory Towers anymore because one of the old men that lives there smokes out his window and lies about it like a rebellious 14 year old.

he makes the whole house smell of stale cigarettes and misery.

time to move out.

not to worry though, a new place has been found. it overlooks the railway, has a room for me to move in and they don't smoke cigarettes in the house.

done.

(they do have a cat, and by they i mean the one guy. but there were no cat hair anywhere ... i don't see it to be a problem)

(although if you remember from the story that i didn't write, so you can't remember it because i didn't write it, about four months ago i nearly stayed in a house with a couple of cats . Geevee would've been a great roomie, but her cats showed their preference loud and clear. the tiny cat particles were too much for my asthmar to handle)

in closing, it seems my life is just made up on one little item of life moving in and out of the frame in the five minutes it took for you to read this far.

thanks for tuning in, and until i write again

i'll leave you with a few moustache pictures to warm you heart.

cheers,

--b

cliche

So.. I am writing again.

(I want to stay away from the cliche remarks of the time that passed while I wasn't writing, the possibility of false hope saying that I promise to write more, or anything else that might draw attention to this being my first post in a long time)

(a very long time)

In closing I am writing again.

Perhaps I'll explain why I couldn't, and wasn't, another time.

(that, my dear reader, is a teaser ad)

jurrasic'ly parked

Dennis,

I graduated university two years ago, spent some time traveling and working a few odd jobs around to keep me going; bartending and construction mostly. I'd like to involve myself in a creative environment, although I don't know how to begin. I've been looking into more school, perhaps another undergrad, or a college course, but I don't know what route to take.

Currently I have an Honours Undergrad from an Ontario University.

Do you have any suggestions? Or, perhaps, some internships coming available. You can reach me at this address.

I found your email on your website where it said your were the contact for the Toronto office. I did not, however, say that you were the CEO of the Toronto division; that little bit of information I found when I dug further into the Toronto branch of the website. I guess someone meant to put a contact, not the contact.

I am sure you'll get back to me though, I'm sure a busy man like yourself has lots of time to write an email back to a kid who found your email in a thirty second search of the corporate website.

I do hope to hear back from you soon, although I'm sure it'll be a bit longer since I am not actually sending it to your inbox but leaving it posted here for your staff to find in it's daily search of the networks.

If you do happen to stumble across this letter, I do sincerely thank you for your time. In my mean time, however, I'm going to sign up for a creative writing course.

Bird

Because in the end, it`s my floor

Mom,

I don't have much of a commentary today, but I do want to share a video from yesterday's episode of Q on CBC radio1. Jian Ghomeshi, radio host on radio1, interviewed Billy-Bob Thorton and ... well, see for yourself. You could listen to it, but seeing Thorton`s blank stares reminded me of an experience of my own.

you can read what John Paolozzi, of radio3, has to say here.

It made me uncomfortable, then I hiccoughed a small fit of laughter then I asked my computer if this was actually happening.

I might have jumped over the desk; although in all likelihood I'd've been sitting there, shaking wishing I had the courage to jump over the desk but thanking that the desk was there stopping Thorton from coming at me.



Last night a guy came into the bar, with some foreign substances reeking havoc with his inner bits. I told him, Johnny we'll call him, I told him Johnny, are you all right?

He stared at me, eyes wide like he opened a ninja turtle action figure on Christmas morning to discovered that it wasn't the gift he had always wanted but a demon device sent to steal his foreign substances.

Why? he asked me. Why do you ask that?

Oh, this is going real well, I thought to myself. And I could tell it was just going to get better. I shifted the bar chair I was propping my foot on to be more out of my path back behind the bar and more into the path of his to mine.

I just wanted to check in, I calmly sputtered out. nice one scaredy cat, just tell him he's not getting served.

So, are you going to ask me if I'd like drink, he asked.

ah, no. sorry johnny, i think you`ve had enough for tonight.

He made a move for my chair and in a flash I was back behind the bar and making for the local hockey team I been serving for most of the night.

Johnny sputtered and spit and made his way slowly to the door. Not that he was moving particularly slowly, but it was made slower when he stopped at everyone, gave them a thug hug, shouting about how sober he was and how out he was being thrown.

Then the hockey team, three of them celebrating a birthday of one of them, asked to buy him a drink.

In retrospect I should have got him a rye and coke and a shot of lime juice and no rye. People who have had lots to drink, or who have foreign substances floating around their bits, tend not to know the difference.

Like making a White Russian for a drunk guy, in a red hat, a week ago, with Worcestershire instead of Kahlua; but that`s another story.

I said no and Johnny left, no more angry than when he came in but that`s only because he had lost all range of emotion two hours previous.

The hockey team said I should have gave him one drink so they could talk him down which means I should have gave him one drink so they could mop the floor with him.

It was my floor. I think I made the right decision.

One guy in the group recapped the events each time a new member joined the group, each telling more descriptive than the next. By the end of the night we were heroes who tried, in vain, to save a damsel in distress.

Anyways, enjoy the rest of the day.

Your son,

--b

just because

Dear mom,

Mands and I have new email addresses. Well, additional email addresses. You can still reach us at our usually ones, although you can reach us at our new ones too! Here they are, in all their .Jpeg glory.

Thanks for reading.

--b

the new bird morley

Since I've arrived home, from Ireland, I've been moving around a bit. I took my time moving from Pearson airport to the other dublin. I made a road trip out to Alberta and toured around for two weeks, then took my time moving from Hamilton airport to Dublin again. I've been working in St. Ratford and crashing on couches of friends and family, and visiting and moving and visiting some more.

I've been having a pretty sweet time, people have been very accommodating and very patient and have never told me that I've worn out my welcome.

I hope I haven't, and I hope I never do.

I just got a new cell phone number. The old one I had, turns out, is long distance from St. Ratford which, as it turns out, is the latest city I am spending my days in. I am tending bar on most weekends, a shift or two through the week, and spending the other hours at my day job and sleeping.

Also going to buck and does, but that is another, less important to this story line, story.

So I got a new cell number, which I just told you, and if you been talking to me over the past six months since my arrival back in Can. I've likely told you this several times.

Let me explain.

I arrived in T.O and went to the skydome because i was scared of the big country that i no longer knew and needed to be somewhere that I felt comfortable.

So i went to the monument that I, and the world, knew best. There, as I waited for a good friend of mine, I purchased a SIM card and joined a one year commitment with Canada.

I wanted to pay-as-i-went, she wanted me to pay-more-than-i-should and I left the story paying much more than that.

I had my first Canad'ian cell number in over a year; a T.O. local number.

I moved around for about two weeks with a T.O. number, visiting friends and family, crashing on couches and not wearing out my welcome.

I arrived in the city, and picked up a local number.

Number number 2.

I was happy at home for about a month, got restless and decided I might like Edmonton so I got local number for there.

Number number 3.

Getting home two weeks later meant another local number, which would be one more than the last number number.

Today I was talking with rogers for the third time in three weeks. The first time I was on hold and got a call from Greg who was announcing the birth of his new baby girl. The second time rogers hung up on me and the third time I got a new number.

that makes five.

This one is a St. Ratford local because ... well, you can remember what I wrote above.

I sent out a mass text to 49 people in my phonebook. It has been a great day because I've heard from so many people who I haven't heard from in a long time. I think I might change my number every month.

"You do that anyway!" shouts drunk guy from the crowd.
"shut up, you. I have a blog, you don't. I'm funny, you're not. Shut the eff up and don't bother me at work."

Below are the responses that I've received today so far and I'll add to it as, or if, more come in.

Think of this as visiting facecrap.com

Enjoy,

--b

sent: 9 of 49 delivered
"I'm the new Bird Morley"

received:
Leanne: "Again!"
Mike C: "Pardon"

sent: "i said: I'M THE NEW BIRD MORLEY"

recieved:
Ms Maloney: "we don't want any"
*Greg: "finally, we r rid of the old BM!"

*who, as it turns out, isn't the same greg that just had his baby

Dave H: "and i am the improved wendel clark. lol"
Bre: "that was three of the weirdest texts i've ever recieved. lol. cant wait to meet the new Bird face to face. lol"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
Uncle Mark: "Neils Bird?"
Mandy: "stop getting new numbers"
o - colter: "who Bird Morley"
aunt mary: "thx Bird. what area code is 226?"
heatger work: "Bird Morley?"

sent: "it's alright, i don't know my co-workers have last names either"

recieved
heatger work: haha mines [last name]. nice to meet ya lol"

sent: "likewise, see you on the weekend"

received late on March 30th:
bobbi p: "lol okay"
evan: "who is this? <.evan.>"
dinker: "what is that suppose to mean"
bob smith: "improved?"
craig: "what?"
Mike C: "Will the real Bird Morley please stand up?"
Greg: "let me know ahead of time next time u r in town"

*which is when i realized it wasn't the same greg who just had his baby

katie: "Just got your msg the Bird Morley. Congrats!"
eli: "are nothing"
eli: "not"
eli: "+1."
The Kid: "I did get your txt, but i didn't text you back because it is costly under my plan"

in person, late evening, april 1st
GeeVee: "did you send me a text saying `i`m the new Bird Morley`?"

Lost Prizes

I woke this morning and put on my best Irish National Rugby Jersey. A part of me wishes that I was heading to a match, another wishes I was living out of my rucksack and yet another is very glad to be behind a bar in southwestern Ontario.

Not behind a bar tonight though, tonight is an evening for friends. This means spending an evening at the pavilion in Dublin and green beer at a watering hole in Stratford.

Yesterday, the day after the snow has disappeared, I found my hurley ball which marks nearly four months to the day my having lost this very ball in the amongst the evergreen trees on the day before the snow came, and stayed, for the winter.

It was watery and soggy and happy to come home. I could tell by the way it sat quietly next to the heater in the entrance way, slowly warming up and waiting patiently for itself and the ground to dry and be back out playing in the sun and rolling in the dewed grass.

Have a wonderful paddy's day. I'll talk to you again soon.

slainte,

--b

K'Naan on Radio3

We are no longer having the technical difficulties that plagued us for about only fifteen minutes.

Perhaps I am a bit of a dramatic, perhaps I was over reacting by making a post about technical difficulties, perhaps I was over whelmed thinking that I'd never get the layout back to the way it was, perhaps I was lacking sleep or caffeine or those other things that I might have to have in order to think coherently and chronologically.

In the end everything looks the same, and everything is regular; at least in the world of my blog.

In the world outside the blog, which has be very much more alive in the last four weeks.

I have an old friend who is waiting patiently for his wife to give birth to his first born. The youngling was due last Saturday, March 7th, and appears to be very happy and healthy where he or she is.

I am also waiting patiently for the baby to arrive.

I went out for coffee with an old friend on Sunday, and to dinner that night at her mothers. It was a good dinner and it was nice to be off the farm for a short while, even if it meant being on another farm.

I've also developed a love for the cbc radio network. The music you've been listening to while reading this post is courtesy of radio3.cbc.ca and I think it will play every time you view this page. If it does, I'll take care of it and turn it into a link instead.

(which is what i've had to do)

This has been an update of the life of b. Stay tuned for some more entertaining reading in the near future. Also, Mands has learned how to create pod-casts; perhaps we might hear a bit more from her soon.

Technical Difficulties

Over the next few hours there will be a many things changing at salutmaman. I hope they are for the better, perhaps only time will tell.

In the mean time please feel free to search the words cartel, hypoventilation or pollok.

We Apologize for the Inconvenience.

*Update*
The operation was a complete success; that is to say stage one was. You're not going to notice anything right away because it'll take a day or so for it to make the switch. I hope to have something more for the unveiling of the upgrades, but alas, for now, I don't.

Sorry for being so vague, but I don't want to ruin it.

And really, in the end, it isn't that big of deal anyway.

(Although feel free to post if you know what it is.perhaps the first person can post something rediculas so that other people don't feel silly about being wrong. perhaps no one will post because no one is reading)

;)

damn

i called ireland again, hoping to talk with roy, and learned that roy was still not there and my irish accent was total rubbish.

i am quite sure i left the guy on the other end of the line wondering who the dumb american was and why he felt it necessary to mimic him.

damn.

(as a favour to a friend i'd like you to follow this link and vote for chris and tash)

missing

i called ireland today, more specifically to the university of limerick, the shelbourne pub and roy, and within moments my irish accent was back.

i miss it.

i chatted with finn for a few minutes, nolan for much more and left a msg for roy on his mobile.

i miss them.

monday i start a new job, basically an executive assistant at a construction company; although that's the name i am giving it, not my boss.

i want to enjoy it, but i want to travel too.

perhaps if i take trips out of the city i can couchsurf instead of stay in hotels.

The Queen and The Silver Fox

While I don't nearly have the tales to tell of new ally and walk ways explored, I do have a few experiences of walking an old one again for the first time in a long time.

As you know, since getting home I've been on the farm. Life has been quiet, a few chores here and there. While we haven't any free range pigs or chickens, and we don't have an old apple tree in the middle of the pasture that I can lay under with my blue jean overalls, no shirt and a bit of wheat grass to chew on and nap beneath my wicker hat, it does, in a more contemporary sense, remain relaxed.

Today I have the house to myself. I've set myself up with a pot of coffee, my guitar to my right, an address book and pad of paper.

I've been seated for three hours and thus far: no letters. Well, none hand written.

But that's beside the point.

I've got back into a bar I worked at six years ago. Working a few shifts on the weekend, making more cocktails than I can remember and at the same time
remembering how different, wonderfully different, it was to work in Cork.

But that's beside the beside the point.

The new bar is the same, essentially. Everything is in the same place it was, the equipment and tables and doors and windows. Even some of the semipermanent furniture, that is to say the regulars, hasn't changed. Just outside my peripherals the other day, well yesterday in fact, I heard two familiar voices ask each other if what they saw was a familiar face.

This familiar face, so they said, had changed a bit, but not overly. beard was grown, new glasses worn and hair cut shorter, but besides all that, the Queen said, I was still the same Bird.

With his english accent, he agreed and we dove into some old memories and quick recap of the missing six years. His grey hair, if he didn't die it, would be
red, or so he claimed. She didn't want to just up and move to Panama because she wasn't sure if she'd like it. I was behind the bar again. It seemed that in
six years nothing had changed at all.

It is a very odd feeling, following the footsteps of a me from before, and I have yet to figure out what it is I am learning about him.

If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

For now, I am awaiting winter to allow for Prince Tourism to ride through town and awaken Sleeping Stratford. I miss the transients, the movers, the
nomads and the travelers. They will come, and when they do I will welcome them with open arms.

So many signs

There were so many signs. I should have picked up on all of them. However hindsight is twenty-twenty and knowing now isn't knowing then.

He approached the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Jagerbombs all around. When just as he was about to order his pint of Guinness, he recognized me.

As he approached the bar I thought to myself how familiar he looked. Just a fleeting moment, a flicker of something, someone I used to know. Perhaps not well, but knew none the less. He ordered his Jagers and then, just as it hit him it hit me.

Craig Kelly I thought. At that same moment he shouted my name.

We shook hands and laughed. Nothing specific, simply thoughts of things.

you were in Ireland, weren't you?
sure, sure I was.
How's Nolan? Did you ever meet up with her
craig kelly doesn't know Nolan i thought. How do you know Nolan? asked I.
St. Columban Soccer stupid. Are you ever going to 'coach' us again?
craig kelly doesn't play st. columban soccer.

Things were making less and less sense, and yet at the same time it was making more and more sense. This old friend, whom I had worked with over the stretch of a few summers between semesters at his father's construction company, was confusing me, though only slightly mind you, more and more.

We'll have to catch up again later, I said. I've got to get back to serving up drinks. Let me buy you a pint though.

I poured off his Guinness, my fourth to be poured in Canada, and shook his hand again.

Good to see you again, Bird.
Good to see you too. I'll be damned if Craig Kelly hasn't changed a lot since I saw him last.

I was cut early that night, only half an hour since my old friend had come up to the bar. I poured myself a cola and joined him and his buddies at their booth in the bar.

These are the guys, my old friend said as I vigorously shook hands with one whom I had never met but was pretending to be old friends with.

We small talked again, for a little while, but it was when I asked about his sister, whom I had gone to elementary school with and whom had just had a child, that my embarrassment, which I had no idea was growing, peaked.

You think I'm a Kelly, don't you, said my friend formally known as Craig Kelly.
Not anymore, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

It doesn't bother me, said old friend. But I am not a Kelly, I'm a Culligan.
This is bad, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

You didn't know who I was when you bought me that beer, did you.
Well, that's not entirely true, thought I. I thought I knew you.

With an awkward smile I finished my cola.

Well Culligan, (because at that time I did not remember his first name to be Ben) I can't say that I have been more embarrassed. Ever.
It doesn't bother me, really Bird. It doesn't bother me at all. It still was great to see you.
It was great to see you too, Culligan, and I hope to see you again.

Though next time as Ben and not as Craig Kelly.

I left through the back door.

2009, Day 3

So here's the deal.

The holidays have come and gone, and I've survived them both. We got snowed in a bit too, and, again, we survived them too. New Years came and went, and, as you might have noticed the trend, i survived.

It seems that with all the planning and stressing and thinking and shopping and walking and drinking and watching of movies that no matter how much you plan to start earlier and earlier each year with everything that needs to go on to make a successful holiday season that it still only ever lasts fifteen minutes.

I am tired. I need a vacation, though from what I don't quite now.

I have started working a bit. It's for a neighbour just up the road who has a job in Toronto building a house. He called me up to give him a hand on a weekend job, a Saturday to be exact which I would have complained, what working on a Saturday and all, except that Saturdays only count for people who work. After he called me up for the weekend job he asked that I help out a bit more, and after I helped out a bit more I ended up more or less semi permanent.

These things just seem to happen that way, and it made for a nice end to the holidays to be back on a job site, with a bit of purpose in mind and some cash coming in to pay off what I have left to pay off.

There are a few more tales to tell about my western adventure, which I hope to get to at some point. Thank you very much for tuning in over the past few weeks even though there has been nothing to tune in to. There have been a few photo's posted up on my flickr, which you may not have seen since I made no mention of them here.

With that in mind I will leave you with one of my favourites from that collection.

Happy New Years All!

Dear Blogger.com,

You have a "javascript void error" message appearing on my page. I would like to thank you for letting me know the particulars of the problem, however in the future could you do one thing for me?

Fix it.

Oh, I don't actually mean that. It isn't that big of an issue. I don't really care all that much. I am, however, chuckling a bit at the fact that the message is there in the first place. You see, it might as well say "bake at 450 degrees", "PC Load Letter", or "Coalition Government" as none of them make any sense to me either.

Thank you for your effort though. I do really appreciate it.

In closing, I was simply wanting to add a new widget thingy to the side bar. I hope I get to soon.

--b

**i've taken the widget off this post because it was screwing up the count on my couchsurfing profile page. not to worry, the one in the side bar here will remain and is working just fine. thanks for everyone who has visited here. cheers, .. --b jan 14, 2009

Calgary, Day 1

So, this should have been posted (not to mention written) on Dec 4th as that was the day I actually got to Calgary from Banff (a post called Banff, Day 1 should have been posted [not to mention written] on Dec 2nd, but we'll talk more about that later).

The bus was quick and painless, as was my meeting a new friend. I did not have to know that she had come from Vancouver that morning, some eight hours ago, to know she was stir crazy and hungry for conversation. I was simply hungry and gladly accepted he offer of a clementine while she talked my ear off about nothing and everything.

There's not much of a story to be told as there wasn't much conversation being had. She was middle aged, married and full of small talk. I smiled, adding words like "yes" and "oh yeah?" whenever I could, which wasn't too often as she had been on the bus for eight hours and a me smiling and eating a clementine.

Janelle picked me up from the bus station, and there's no real story their either. After a hug and a chat we hurried off to see if the car was still parked in the space she was holding for the fire truck, should there have happen to be an emergency. It was a good idea since she was so close to the fire hydrant.

I have a feeling they would have appreciated it.

After spending most of the night trying to decide when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other, we decided that it was a some summers evening some three years ago in some back yard of some other friend, who's name is Steph, where we listened to other friends talk about mortgages and leases and some other things that were as much out of our league now as they were then.

Laura came home later, from parent teacher interviews, and we had another good laugh over when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other.

A quick search through me email inbox later would find that Janelle and I had last written each other in oh-six.

We went out for wings, which turned into nacho's and a burger, which, come to think of it, was never going to be wings in the first place, at a pub just up the road from their house, which was conveniently located just up the road from the pub. The server hit on the girls, which we were all very happy about because the girls wanted an in when it comes to patio season and I was very scared that he might have been hitting me. By the end of the evening he had stolen my glasses, called Laura a pretentious beach, asked which one was my girlfriend and still, somehow, we thought of him as a friend.

If you happen past the Ship and Anchor on 17th Ave in Calgary say hello to Kevin for me. Well, use Janelle or Laura's name just in case we were wrong about him.

Yellowknife, Day 1

So I arrived in Yellowknife last night. Leaving Calgary the pilot said getting into edmonton we'd see weather a little better than where were presently where, however failed to mention, let alone warn, the sorts of things we'd feel landing in the great white north.

Welcome to Thirty below, the chill through my nostrils said.
Too bad I never got around to finding that tissue earlier, I replied.
The cold of the north just laughed and said "you South-Western-Ontarians are all the same".

Mary and I, Mary being my aunt and youngest sister of my Dad's, had trail mix, Keiths and several hours of conversation. She got up for work this morning, I searched the house for Claw, the dog of a friends whom she is, and subsequently I am, babysitting, because 11:30, when I woke up, was high time he was let out to the back door.

**whistle**
Claw!
**whistle whistle**
ummm .. claw.

Back upstairs I trudge, fearing the worst and knowing I'd be the one cleaning it up.

hey claw, where are you little guy? I asked the upstairs, as if it, or the dog, could have answered me.

He was tucked into Mary's bed, snuggled into the mess of sheets.

Oh my, I thought. This is not going to be good.

hey claw, how are y-
BIRD!

As I stood in the room making the mess I had feared to find as a result of the Claw, I reflected on a few things: why the dog had replied, why Mary had not made her bed before going off to work and why Mary was not at work but starring back at me from a mess of hair and a splitting headache.

We cleaned up my mess, made some coffee and let the dog out so he could pee on the kitchen and livingroom floor.

Jasper, Day 1

I am on a computer that make it ound like i've got a tuffed up noe. Ret aurred I am quite healthy, it i mearly the keyboard I am uing.

You ee, the "" key doe not work. I could be hitting "ctrl+v" to pate an "" but I can't be bothered right now.

beide, it might be fun to ee if anyone can actually read what I write.

That i if anyone i reading at all.

Japer i beautiful and I am tired. There' been a great deal of hiking and walking and meeting of people, o much that I may need a vacation from thi vacation.

I can undertand why a peron could pend a lot of time here. there' mountian everywhere I look, elk every other block (or at leat a few reminent left by the elk) and floppy eared touque on every head. I'd pot ome picture of the area, except that I haven't taken any yet.

We went out lat night, which wa fun. My host went back to the place we were taying early and I tayed out which wa a good idea until I realized, long after cell phone had been turned off, that I didn't know where thi place wa that I wa uppoed to be taying.

I had, though, made ome friend who where more than happy to give me their couch for the evening; although that didn't change the fact that my ride tomorrow didn't know where i wa, not to meantion that tomorrow morning I would be jut a lot a I wa the night before.

Never have I been a lot a I wa lat night. In any other place I had been I had at leat looked at a map or learned the name of the main treet. I had been riding around in a car for the weekend, ever ince I'd arrived, and not paying attention at all to any direction. Even when I had been driving.

o thi morning I cleaned up my bedroom Rosco' living room and tepped out the door and choe a direction. All I could think about wa hoping my ride wa looking for me.

And then, out of nowhere, or eamingly nowhere, came a familiar little black ford. I had been found and wa going to be alright.

ince then I've got myelf a map and learned the addre of the place I am taying.

At the end of it, however, I had made ome great friend.

Edmonton, Day 1

Nothing much to be said about the city of edmonton. I drove into, and around, the city on thursday, and adventured a little. although the only real adventuring i did was to follow the main arteries of traffic and try to remember which direction south was.

also, trying to remember what the car I was driving looked like. something i didn't think about needing to remember until I stepped out of a shop that afternoon.

I had been picking up a trimmer, you see it was time to tame my beardness, which promted a few smart remarks from fellow shoppers.

"hmm." smiled a mom at the counter, behind me in line. "i don't need to ask who that's all for" making reference to the shaving kit I had assembled.

in the end i did find the car, luckily enough for the panic button, which scared the heck out of a young couple loading up christmas gifts in their trunk in the car next to the one who's alarm I had just set off.

I hid just out of site until they had moved on. boy was my face red.

(I've been in Jasper for the weekend, but more about that a little later)

I did not find any oiler fans to talk to.

Wild Rose Country

The good news is there is an unlocked internet network that i've tapped into. the bad news is i am hungry and don't know edmonton in the least bit.

i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.

perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.

my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.

"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.

However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.

"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"

I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.

"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"

and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.

**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**

of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.

never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.

i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.

All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.

I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).

Bound to be bound somewhere

Today is the day: I am back on the road. I fly tonight to sunny Edmonton, back in time two hours, the good kind of time travel not the bad kind that makes you sleep for three days after wards, this is the good kind that keeps a person up for three days after.

I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.

I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.

Cheers,

--bbb

Ca Va Cool

When I was in high school the internet was quite young. I didn't know much about it, I still know relatively little about it, and we didn't have access to it at the home farm until midway through my grade eleven year.

One of my classmates said to me one day, as they do from time to time while we weren't reading with our free-reading time,

"I don't know why anyone really gets the internet. You spend a week exploring around, finding new things and reading jokes and eventually you run out of things to do. Every time you log on it is the same stuff. I don't get it, I just don't get it."

I really had no idea if he was right, wrong or even speaking to me but what I think I do know now is that the internet has a lot more stuff.

( A person could say crap, however I enjoy using stuff because it isn't specifically good or bad, it merely suggests an abundance of material.)

Today I have the house to myself, since my roommates have either gone to work, school or doctors appointments, and now that I have finished the chores and ate my breakfast I've sat down and done a bit of inspirational searching. A quick recap of my last few weeks and my next few weeks goes a little along the lines of:

cleaned some house; harvested some corn; drove some tractor; booked some flight to and from edmonton; spoke with some friend; searched some couch; watched some high school and college sport.

Also, today I have drank and brewed some coffee, and not necessarily in that order.

With my inspirational search I intended to plan my upcoming airtrip and to get my creative synapses firing before I turned around and fired them.

I wandered around couchsurfing and found a member named 'elephantson' which I found to be a funny name but didn't know why. I punched it into my favourite search engine and, after a few adjustments, found a blog and then followed a link to another blog and laughed a bit and the word play title and how my sister, Mademoiselle Murray, would also find humour in it.

The internet is full of wonderful stuff. Take that reading buddy!

(Now I've got to clean the kitchen before my parents get home from the doctors office)

Dear Mom,

I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have been rather busy. And seeing as I am in the same house as you now I don't really find it necessary to have to write you to say hello.

In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.

Hi Mom!

You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.

Just writing to you, says I.

Oh that's nice. Don't forget to clean your room, I think it's what's making you cough.

Thanks Mom, and I will, blushes I. But I've really got to get back to writing to you mom.

Oh sure dear. Let me know when you're finished.

I will, not to worry.

I changed the layout a bit; just one of the ways I've kept myself. I've been following Dad around for a bit, helping out my uncles and pretending to be various types of farmers; chicken, dairy, pig, turkey, crop etc. I think I make a pretty good lil'buckaroo.

On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.

Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.

Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.

I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.

I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.

That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.

Until next time:

love, your son.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Hey You!

I had a pint of Bulmers at an ethnically confused pub the other day in St Small Town, Ontario. I was visiting a friend of mine, he works on a Dairy farm just outside of town, and he and his girlfriend took me out to O'Generic Pub.

They had thought that it was an English Pub with some bar-type stuff. However it was, in fact, a pub trying to be Irish but forgetting that Ireland doesn't have a Liverpool Underground.

There was Guinness on tap, Murphy's junk on the wall and a few Irish saying framed and flanking the bar stools.

The locals looked the part of a small town Ontario pub, all of whom wouldn't have stood a chance getting a drink at the divest of dives in any Irish village; least of all one that I was pulling pints at (that, if said live and in real life, would have been accompanied by an Anchor Man quote and something to do with being a big deal. Sarcasm doesn't ever work in emails, or any written communications for that matter, so I like to make sure it makes sense).

The point, and there is one, is that there was Bulmers on draft but they called it Magners, as they do in places that are not Ireland, and it tasted like piss, as it does in places that are not Ireland.

That did not, by the way, stop him and I from having a couple of pints each. It was the first outing I'd been on since getting home; I liked it, very much. Not the drinking part, but the being around people part, and the in a setting that resembled that feeling of home that I missed so very much part.

Part of that was also writing here. I've been sending a few emails to friends here at home, and been conversing with a few that are still traveling. Since I've been writing to them I feel like I should be writing to you. So, even though I said goodbye just a day or so ago, I may just post here periodically.

No promises, but I do like writing.

Fin

Farewell Salutmaman! You have served me well over this past year and 23 days.

Farewell Readers! Thank you very much for tuning in. I have enjoyed having you along during my travels.

I have arrived home to Dublin, Ontario after a long time on the road. Tonight I will fall asleep in my bed, my own bed and wake up in my house, my own house.

This will be the final entry for my Ireland trip. I will not be writing for this blog for a while. I don't know if any of the other girls will be writing for it anytime soon; everyone is either working or learning. For Mands and I this has been strictly a travel blog, so I think we'll keep it that way. I may keep writing, but I don't know where that will be. If you want to know you are welcome to ask and I may share it.

But that all depends on if I keep writing.

I am back in Dublin. No job just yet. Dad has plans involving new doors, some demolition and lots and lots of yard work.

A very special thank you to those of you who put me up over the past three weeks and for helping me with my reintegration into Canada. A very sincere apology to those of you I haven't visited with yet; I will be visiting with you very soon.

I have no plans. Not yet. None for work, residence, school, travels, money. Something will come up, but until then, tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

Contextual Clairfication

When I was in grade 12 I took part in a Dominican Republic experience trip. A small group of high school students, an English teacher and my priest left Toronto for the D.R. for ten days. Before we left we had months of preparation, learning a bit of Spanish (nothing that I remembered or used) and a general overview of what we might expect to see.

As much as we were shown and told none of us really appreciated what it was we were going to see or hear. I do not intend to paint a picture of the poverty we saw, even though having seen their way of life was shocking. Rather I want to draw on my what I went through, what we went through, coming home as I believe it parallels my arrival in Toronto.

I received a message that made me feel as if my statement "Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork" needed a bit of context for clarification.

You see, during the prep period for the D.R. trip we poured over photo's of trips gone before us, heard from the students whom the photo's belonged to, saw video after video and read story after story. They did all this work to get us into the right frame of mind so we could be ready for what we saw.

But that wasn't the hardest part.

The hardest part was coming home.

We had spent little over a week in an alien environment, but that week effected us, all of us, more than we had expected.

Everything was the same. Canada, Ontario, Stratford, my high school, my friends, my teachers, my coaches my everything.

It wasn't that we thought it would be, or wouldn't be; it was, simply, the same. I had changed without knowing it, and seeing everyone and everything I knew and loved exactly the same put into perspective how much I had changed.

I had loved every bit of my week long journey and I wanted everyone to have had experience it with me. I wanted to be able to look them all the eye and have them understand what it was I saw and did and share in my experience.

But no one did, at least not outside the group of students whom I traveled with.

Now, my arrival home from Cork wasn't as drastic as this one was, but several of the emotions and observations and experiences were related. I saw things differently, I saw Canadians differently, I saw our lifestyles differently. I had grown so accustomed to the Irish landscape that where I'd grown up, or rather the country I call home was foreign to me.

I didn't want it to be foreign, I wanted it to be home. I wanted to be home, that was where I thought I was going. Instead I ended up in a foreign land, alien landscape and a world I no longer knew. I should have felt comfortable, but I didn't.

In fact I didn't feel comfortable until I saw the Kid trotting down the stairs outside gate 5 at the Skydome. Seeing him was seeing home, and I knew I would start to feel better.

Where the story goes from here is much happier. I am adjusting slowly, with the help of all my friends whom I've met up with along my way to the home farm. I go to see my sisters today, this evening rather, and tomorrow to see one play volleyball.

I am looking forward to it, my family and adjusting to Canadian culture. It's been hard, but I am getting there.

I no longer want to be on the next plane back to Cork, but I do want to be on one sometime soon.

What Are You Doing Right Now?

Bird Morely is Deleting Facebook

settings>my account>deactivate account>confirm facebook account deactivation


Please let us know why you are deactivating (required)

I was going write a bit about how I got ride of my facething account. However, doing that, in a way, gives more power (through recognition) to the thing I was leaving and goes against the reasons I left.

The end of it is I no longer have the account. I am not trying to drop off the grid, or avoid anyone, or seek attention (well, maybe I am seeking a little attention) I was simply tired of the network and how lazy it was making me when it came to keeping up with friends.

Lazy? You ask. Well yes, lazy; and let me tell you why

Have you ever dropped in to see how a friend has been? Perhaps after you haven't seen them for a while. There usually a few minutes of general banter, then you tell some stories of where you're life is right now and then all things inevitably lead to nostalgic renditions of that ride home from school one day or that buck and doe where Joe stepped through the table and things are happy and grand and everyone laughs and such and such.

I like those conversations (I liked them enough to make a road trip out of it visiting buddies who lived on my route home) but occasionally I find those conversations inhibited, or sometimes replaced, by a few clicks of the mouse.

So let me ask you this: have you ever "dropped in on a friend" through facecrap, riffled through their photo's, wall posts, videos or notes? Perhaps not all of those at once but I can bet you've done it at least once (a day). Now, have you ever met up with that person a few days, or weeks later and got to talking, remembering and sharing about stories old and new only to discover that you already new the story, but didn't know why?

This is usually the point where a light comes on and your fingers snap and you say, without really knowing you're saying it: oh yeah, I think I saw that on myface.

It is at this point my cheeks would feel a bit warm and likely turn a deep red, but I don't know how you would react. I felt so guilty, like a voyeur, peeping tom a creep with a laptop and I had spied on this persons life.

did you hear that John and Helen broke up? that sue and tom got together? that Steve's cat had kittens?

Aside from the creeping around, which I didn't feel good about, I felt the communication was cold and impersonal. On a few occasions I'd find myself substituting a quick email to someone on their birthday for a "wall post".

(whoops, and I haven't even wished matty a happy birthday yet)

But no more! I have a birthday list started, and I hope to stay on top of it.

(Damn, I didn't wish Bizz a happy birthday either)

As long as I keep my trusty journal near me (or Laura Van Geel) I'll never miss another friends birthday (Andrew Thuss) again.

So I've left the social network known as Facebook. I will have to turn old school and write emails to people, text them my plans or even, heaven forbid, give them a ring. I hope you all remember my birthday, it's June 24th.

I'll leave you with a quote from a blog that I found a few months ago that got me thinking about this latest, and (hopefully) final goodbye to the social network that has swept our lives away. Take care, and I hope to see you all soon in real life.

--b

"Facebook is like a creepy and pointless videogame where people collect every person they've ever met, then waste their time spying on all the dumb bullshit they do all day. I don't care if some moron I went to high school with bought a new iPod, I don't want to play the vampire biting game, and I don't want people I don't care about to know what I'm up to if they're not going to bother asking me with words." Joe Mathlete

A Week or so

I need to be honest with all of you: I've been in the country for a week now. Well, a week and two days. I landed at 12:45 EST in Toronto, Ontario and proceeded to collect my luggage.

I meant to get in touch with you a lot sooner than this, but time and tide ran away from me and I was left standing at Term. 2 departure gates with a heavy pack and a heavy heart. I had been intending, for about a month before hand, to hike around South Western Ontario for a couple of weeks packing in as many friends and family as I could before coming to rest on the home farm.

There's been a lot that's happened. Let me fill you in as much as I can. Be patient though, this might take some time.

I landed, like I said, in Toronto and from there I took the TCC into the city centre (that's Irish for downtown). I had forgotten how friggin big Toronto was. It was big, bigger than I remembered and bigger than I was ready for. Cork had no sky rises, no fast moving foot traffic and no roads big enough to be a car park (I later learned that they were in fact car parks, I had simply mistaken them for motorways).

Toronto did not have my house, my pub or my coffee shop. It did not have my supermarket, my buskers or my pub and it certainly did not have my pub.

I was small, alone and tired of carrying my big, stupid pack around.

But as I sat watching all this unfold in front of me, all these buildings, tree's, cars, people, buses, beer ads, Canadian flags, library's, university campuses, cabs, gas stations and bike lanes, as I watched all this unfold I realized that in a year plus two days I haven't been in a better position. In all the traveling I've done, all the places I've been, I've never been in a place that could be easier to navigate.

Toronto is still a foreign city to me, don't get me wrong; I was raised on a pig farm and hadn't spent more than a few days in the city. Despite being foreign, however, it was still Canadian. I had jumped into cities and countries knowing nothing of the culture, language or currency and made it out the other end; most often with scarce few marks resulting.

I took a deep breath. I was going to be okay. This isn't as scary as it might appear to be.

Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork.

Rescue Inspiration

There once lived a boy who loved to write. Writing was everything he did and everything he wanted to do. It didn't so much matter that he may not have been much good, nor that he new how to spelt or that grammar wasn't the bestest of things of his, it mattered only that he did it and loved it and did it because he loved it.

Then one day an evil came along and took away Inspiration. It came without warning, or calling card or befriending me on facebook; nothing that would aid our young hero in the recovery of Inspiration. It came and went like a wisp of wind leaving him helpless; helpless and scared.

He continued to think thoughts, but they didn't amount to much. The thoughts thunked remained un-wrote, un-developed, un-recorded. For the longest time he wasn't even aware that Inspiration had been taken. It wasn't until he looked back upon his work to find that there was precious little work to look back upon.

It was at this moment that our young hero took it upon himself to search for Inspiration, to hunt down that evil with his vorpal blade. To rescue poor inspiration.

This is the story of that rescue.

Thank you, and welcome back.

Bird Arrives

[I didn't have the courage to write about my arrival at the airport because I didn't want to jinx our operation]

I arrived at Shannon Air at around four in the afternoon. I had spent most of the ride deep in my current book, another by Milan Kundera that, like the other other one i've read recently by him did not live up to the first book of his I read. Having been so deep in the book I misjudged how long I had been on the bus and realized just in time that the planes landing all around me and the sudden emptying of the bus was telling me that it was time to drop the book, my snacks and water bottle inside my pack, grab it and my umbrella and leap off the bus as it peeled out of the drop-down zone.

Had I have been wearing a hat I would have had to reach back and bring it through the bus doors as it would have fallen off.

I can't go anywhere without that hat. At least I couldn't had I have been wearing one.

I looked up at the signs above the doors and a thirty-something backpacker trundled past me with his pack and destination clearly organized.

"Nice one, Indiana" he mustered with a smirk.

thanks for noticing I thought to myself while I replied with a grin of my own.

Through the doors I went searching for my second visiting sister and her travel companion. I found them looking rather confused, but on the brink of discovery. I quietly flanked around and popped up next to Steve.

"You look like you could use some help"



[happy birthday Big Dan. welcome to north of 22]