This year will be different!

XKCD is the best.

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In Hewsons Hollow

Craptacular!

I spent yesterday afternoon at MONA.

It's a privately owned art gallery in Tasmania. It's really great.

You wear an ipod around, which uses GPS to determine what exhibits are in your vicinity. The ipod displays information about the art, and there is often audio content to access, like a interview with the artist or something. It's very impressive. Another thing the ipod was doing is tracking your movement. Today, I got an email with the route I took through the gallery, as well as a listing of the art pieces I saw, as well as the ones I missed:

In one room, there is an exhibit called Cloaca. The Belgian artist responsible for this installation has apparently set up similar type exhibits in galleries around the world.

It's essentially a poo machine.

Food goes into it, and then goes through various containers where it is subject to acid, enzymes, bacteria etc..

Essentially, all the things that would happen to food in a human body.

As I examined the contraption, I noticed that the room was starting to fill with people. More and more people packed into the small, dark room. Finally at 2pm exactly, a small platform with a petri dish on it rose up slowly. The opening at the end of the machine then squeezed out a small greenish-brown log. The room filled with the smell of poo. People captured the magic on various hand held devices.

I wandered out of the room. Around me, I heard everyone expressing the same sentiment:

"I can do that!"

Fat Car

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Brothers and cousins

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Christmas Cricket

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Downtown Hobart

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Tasmanian sushi

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The bark on this tree sure is interesting

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Christmas cake and champagne at work

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I just met you, and this is crazy...

My housemates are very nice. This makes them popular.

This has the lamentable outcome that they have frequent houseguests. Often, these guests stay over for multiple nights.

I don't love this. Home is a sanctuary. Free of strangers, where you can do your thing and be comfortable in your skin, or boxers or whatever state of undress you choose.

I think I'm getting cranky in my middle age. I've always been kind of an anything goes kind of fellow, but I think I do need a personal cocoon to go home to.

Can we simplify things?

I'm not great with details. In my studies, and in my life, I've tried to boil things down, simplify, reduce to first principles.

I find my head just can't hold all the details.

There is a satisfaction in paring things down, in smoothing away complexities.

Unfortunately, you do lose something in simplifying it. And many things in this messy, tangled world of our resist simplification.

I think I can learn to accept that some things are complex, and need to be appreciated in their complexity. But what I need to figure out is how to handle these things. While I simplify because I like dealing with simpler things, I also think I do this because I truly am not that good with the complex.

What's the answer to this? How do I go about training my mind to absorb, hold, and process the complicated issues in our complicated world?

Tiny Spider on a Pillow

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I found this tiny spider crawling across a pillow.

He was really struggling. His legs were tiny, and he had to struggle and navigate around the individual fibres sticking up from the fabric of the pillow.

As I threw him outside, I couldn't help but think how disorienting it all would be for him. He'd have such an easier time understanding his environment, and making sense of the world if he could somehow have a larger perspective.

Olive Grove

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Christmas Desserts!

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Three minutes a week

A documentary was recently broadcast here in Australia that described how many of the benefits of exercise can be hand much more efficiently.

Essentially, you do 3 twenty second bouts of high intensity training, three times a week. And by high intensity training, they mean full throttle, full body kind of exercise.

I decided to give this a try today. I sprinted for twenty seconds. Rested for a bit. Sprinted for twenty more seconds. Rested for a bit. Sprinted for a final twenty seconds.

I have not felt this awful in a long time. I thought I was going to throw up. I'm not sure if I'll keep this experiment going.

I should read more

As a child, I almost always had my nose in a book. I just really liked reading.

I'd say this started to peter out sometime in high school. Things got busier, I got occupied with other things. In spite of this, I'd say that I identify as someone who loves to read. Which I am thinking is a bit odd, seeing as I haven't really done any prolonged reading for about fifteen years. I mean, I still do read the occasional book, but I think I probably average.. 5 books a year maybe?

I have friends who always have a book on the go. They read a chapter a night before bed. This is not how I read. I start and finish 95% of the books I read within 48 hrs. I stay up late, I read while eating, I read while walking, I read while I'm on the bus. I'm really a binge reader.

I think I'd like to cultivate some healthier reading habits. It'd allow me to read more consistently, for one thing. I also want to get back into reading. I've been noting books I 'should' read for ages and ages, and I ought to just start reading them.

Me talk funny one day

All the hand surgeons and hand therapists had a meeting today. I gave a brief talk on wrist outcome measures.

Afterwards, some people mentioned that my accent helped to keep it interesting.

It's so neat to be the one with the accent. It's impossible for me to hear Canadian-English as anything but plain and unaccented. The Australians seem to disagree.

Also at the meeting where brits and kiwis. After a lifetime of everyone speaking the same-sounding English, I'm suddenly surrounded by such variety!

Ants!

We're having an ant problem.

In the morning, they mosey out and crawl all over our kitchen countertop.

I don't know where they come from.

I'm not too, too bothered by ants, personally. They're so small. And they don't bite.

In other news, it's supposed to get up to 37 degrees here! I'll be indoors all day in a meeting, but it sounds like some serious summer weather.

On (not) Surfing

So I went to Phillip Island this past weekend. The place I stayed at had chickens in the backyard, and on Sunday morning I went and got fresh eggs for breakfast!

Anyways, I went to Phillip Island to surf.

I can't remember how old I was when I first saw the ocean. 16 or so maybe? It was the Atlantic on the east coast of Canada. It was rocky and so cold it hurt. And vast. So very vast. I remember tasting it, to make sure it was salty, like people said it would be.

I have a surfboard, and a wetsuit, and I spend time with these things in the waves of the Pacific Ocean, down here in Australia, but I wouldn't say I'm surfing. I'm not standing on my board carving a trail across the face of a wave. I'm battling, and grappling and gasping against salty walls of water that push and batter me towards shore.

And it's beautiful. I love the endless sandy beaches, and the frothy sea foam. I love the taste of the sea, and the way it roughens my hair as it dries. I love lying on my board, rocking and rising to the endless rolling waves.

I'm not surfing. Not yet. But whatever it is I'm doing out there is wonderful, all the same.

Self Fulfilling Prophecies

If you had asked me five years ago, where I hoped I would be after I had finished my residency, I would have replied:

"Hopefully in Australia, doing some sort of fellowship."


My friend Robin, once told me I should make a vision board. Essentially, it's a collage of your hopes and dreams. You let the universe know what you want.. and the universe responds.

I think the answer is simpler than that. You can only move towards a goal if you're clear about what that goal is. It's hard to hit a target you can't define. I also think that in some way, our dreams and plans help define our future. You can't very well live a reality that you can't even imagine or conceive.

In any case, the fact remains that I am living my dream. And what's it like? Is it everything I hoped and dreamed it would be?

Yes! It is! It's all that and more.

My Sweet Car at Smiths Beach

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Chooks!!

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Phillip Island

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This is strangely hilarious to me

The best part starts at 4:23. I wish it would last forever.

Guy in Front of me at Kebab Place has Sweet Threads

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Where I Brag About My Music Once Again

Today, FIVE people at work commented on how much they liked my music!

It's funny how happy we get when people confirm our good taste.

The one that really got people going was this:

Eeeeeeeek!

Cool Melbourne Design Studio

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We've Run Out of Internet

My housemates and I have somehow gone through our monthly allowance of internet.

While we still have access to internet, our service provider has slowed the pace of our internet to a crawl.

We go back to full speed in four days. My housemate Tom is hilariously distraught.

It's not enough to be connected. The connection must be fast!

We Forget. If we let ourselves.

If you give anyone enough time, he/she will begin to forget. If you're away from something long enough, it'll all begin to fade away. Especially if you're able to keep yourself consistently distracted.

I think we're like this for good reason. It's wonderful to reminisce, and your history truly does shape who you are, but is it very functional to always be living in the past? What can be gained by rehashing, by regretting, by what-ifs?

If you want to make your life all it can possibly be, you have to be present in the present.

Anyways, all this is to say that I think we should use social media with caution. It's a powerful and wonderful way to stay in touch, and to keep tabs on people around the globe. This is a mixed blessing. Forgetting can be for the best, and prodding old memories will keep them alive for longer than they ought to be.

Driving Game

The different lanes on the highway are marked by both white lines and raised highway markers.

When you switch lanes, you can hear and feel your tires flicking over these raised markers.

I do my best to try and avoid this. I try and angle things so that my tires past just so, and the raised markers pass between rather than directly underneath my tires.

It makes me happy when I can do this. It's like a highway version of avoiding cracks in the sidewalk. Your mom will thank you.

The Main Character

I think we all construct a narrative of our life, with ourselves as the main character. Our little dramas make up the story line. Friends become supporting characters. Policemen issuing parking tickets, rude waitresses et al become our antagonists.

We incorporate fables, myths, folklore into the story to let us know how it should go. Giving a girl a flower should make her swoon. Cause that's just how it's supposed to be! In all the stories we know.

Isn't it amazing that I'm a character in your story, and you're one in mine? Isn't it amazing that the central storyline, the one you must follow, is the one about yourself.. and that EVERYONE is writing a story of their own?

I think secretly, we all want to be living epic, heroic, happy stories. With comedy thrown in for giggles. But it's ok to live a sadder story. At least once in a while. Right?

Cousin Olive Runs to her Parents

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Loquats

There are these trees in my neighbourhood which have thousands of these little yellow fruit on them:



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They're called loquats, and they're delicious. The flesh is white, and there are usually between 2-4 jelly bean sized seeds in them.

It's difficult to describe the taste. Cousin Leo says they taste like a mix between a kiwi and a persimmon. Personally, I wouldn't find that description so helpful. I can tell you they're fantastic though.

Sad Cactus :(

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As High as it'll Go

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Kangaroo!

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I'm (Mostly) Rational

At our last family reunion, the cabins at the resort we were staying at had little safes to keep valuables. I remember Uncle Alex and I had co-incidentally set our numeric combinations to the exact same sequence of lucky Chinese digits.

I don't really consider myself a superstitious person, but I must admit I have quite a strong aversion to the number 4. I don't like choosing the fourth option, I don't bet on horse number 4, I don't like it when I check the time and it's 4:44. Even looking at all those fours sets my teeth on edge!

Anyways, at work today there was only one locker available. Locker 14. I came close to putting my clothes on TOP of the lockers rather than use this locker. That's not reasonable! I put my clothes in the locker, but I do have this sense that I'm tempting fate somehow...

Cactus

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The One Downside of Australia (so far)

I've always been proud of my great sleeping ability. I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime. A good nights sleep is almost always a given.

Something's changed since I've come to Australia. I'm not sleeping as well. I have theories about this.

1. My mattress here in Australia is not nearly as good as the one I had in Vancouver.
I'm actually giving some thought towards buying a better mattress. It's probably worth it.

2. Computer use too close to bedtime.
I can't help myself.

3. Lack of exercise.
I should probably exercise more. I'm thinking of taking up some sort of martial art.

4. Australian pollens giving me allergies.
No helping that I suppose.

5. Irregular sleep schedule.
I think I'll have to accept this as well. Sometimes, the fun stuff really doesn't happen till late.

It seems the best ploy is to buy a new mattress.

I'm glad we had this little talk.

Cousin Leo is a Fancy Chef

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I'm Still Studying

So you know how you come home from work or school or whatever, and you have this nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you ought to be studying? And it's hard to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine, or the glow of the television due to this nagging feeling? It sure is annoying.

I've had this feeling (with short, brief respites) for oh... the past 15 years or so. It probably started sometime in high school. And I'm still trapped in this "should be studying" feeling so many years later.

That does not seem ideal.

I need to do something about this. I feel like this feeling is going to gnaw away at my stomach lining, give me ulcers and take good years off my life.

What to Write, What to Write

There are tons of theme blogs out there. Blogs about music, or blogs about being a Mom etc.

I don't think this blog has a theme. Does it?

In any case, what should I write about? If there are any requests, please let me know.

I wish more of my peeps kept blogs.

Taaa

Australianisms I enjoy:

Taaa. People say this as a short for for thank you. It's very efficient. It also sounds a bit like you're singing. I think it's slightly less thankful than a formal "Thank you". In fact, it's almost always said in the context of small, task-type favours.

example:

Someone passes you the salt.
"Taa."



Rogered. This is a verb to indicate that you've rogered something. It's when you mess something up.

example:

"I have rogered up my knee."

I think that's how you use it.

Sometimes the cuts that need healing cannot be seen

So the last bunch of photos are from all around Melbourne as I biked along its truly awesome Main Yarra Trail.

As I was coming home, I came across an unfortunate sight.

Right in front of the Exhibition Building (pictured below), there was a person sitting by the sidewalk cutting his(her?) forearm with a razor blade. The cuts weren't too deep, but there was blood, running down his pants and making a puddle on the concrete.

I did a double take as I biked past. I turned around and stopped maybe 3 feet away.

"Hey man, are you ok?"

Eyes are downcast. He doesn't look up.

"Listen, I don't know too much about this sort of thing, but I think maybe you should go to the hospital."

No response. Head down. He takes the razor blade and makes small, shallow cuts higher up on his forearm.

"The hospital is actually just a couple blocks down the road..."

No response. Head down.

At this point, I'm not sure what to do. As I debate this, a roly-poly Australian wanders up and I hear that he is on the phone with the ambulance service. This seems reasonable. I should have thought of that! He next calls the police. He assures them that it's not life-threatening, but that the girl (he has come to the opposite conclusion regarding this unfortunate person's gender) still has the blades. On the phone he expresses concern that he doesn't feel able to take the blades away from this person. I am super concerned that the Australian police would counsel concerned citizens to try and disarm strangers on the street.

"What'd the say?"

"They're coming. They said for us to stay with her."

Seems easy enough. Next thing I know, the roly-poly Australian has taken a seat next to our bleeding, silent friend. He puts a hand on her(his?) shoulder. She shies away. He then reaches over and takes the razor blades out of her hands.

My protestations are halfway out of my mouth, but its too late. The roly-poly fellow takes the razor blades and wraps them in a kleenex. Man. Crazy.

At this point, we all wait around for a few minutes before the police and ambulance arrive. The whole while the unfortunate, androgynous, bleeding person keeps his/her eyes down, keeps silent, keeps seated. Finally they get here. 2 paramedics and 3 police officers to be precise. I wave a half hearted goodbye as they gather around. No one waves back.



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Skatepark Melbourne

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Bouldering Under a Bridge in Melbourne

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On the bike path, there was a cow

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Card From my Sister!

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Just arrived yesterday. Lovely.

What a Fox

I got my hair cut recently in one of those "economical" hair cutter places that can be found in China towns around the globe.

The guy who cut my hair looked to be maybe 5 years younger than me. His name was Fox. Fox was a real pro. He was efficient, he was meticulous and I think he did good.

This is in contrast to many of the recent haircuts I've had at a local hair school here in Melbourne. There is a high-end kind of conceit to this hair school/salon, so the surroundings are more luxurious, which is reflected in their prices.

I can't really complain about the hair cutting students. They're all very pleasant. They generally do a good job. It just takes them a loooong time. And you can tell they're still learning their craft. Movements are clumsy. It takes more steps to do less. Things are forgotten. There are long delays.

As someone with a very hands-on kind of job, I really appreciate when I see an expert craftsman/woman. I appreciate the economy of movement, the swift judgement, the certainty of their purpose. It's something that comes with experience, and many hours of careful thoughtful practice.

I'll be going back to Fox.

Where the Other Half Lives

My Facebook newsfeed is a continuous stream of happy messages regarding the outcome of the American election.

In fact, I can't find a single posting that expresses any concern/sorrow/consternation.

From the polls, I know that about half the country voted for Romney. I wonder where they all hang out? It's like a parallel universe or something? Maybe I'm just really bad at making friends with Republicans.

Obama-rama!

Obama won!

It's interesting to me how invested non-Americans are in the election. Here in Australia, everyone I've talked to has been very pro-Obama.

I wonder why Obama is so much more popular around the world than he is at home.

I think we should all be worried about how polarizing political discourse has become. If nothing else, we need to all remember to be civil.

Things I've Learned About Betting on Horses

1. You will probably lose money.

2. Unless you're me. In which case, you definitely lost money.

3. Betting based on a horses name is not a sound strategy. That being said, the only race I made money on was the one where I bet on Supercool.

4. Betting based on their race history is also not a sound strategy. Those horses are temperamental beasts.

5. All that being said, it's way more fun to watch a horse race when you got money riding on the race.

Final observation: A suit makes everything a little classier. A suit and a fedora? Classier still!

Another Year Goes By

So I just turned 31.

Noooooooooooo!


How did his happen? Where did all my youth go? Surely there must be a mistake?

I'm not gonna be one of those "age gracefully", "every year is better than the last" kind of people. I'm going unwilling. Kicking and screaming!


Maybe I did my math wrong. Surely, I'm not 31. That's just crazy. Was I really born in '81? Perhaps there was a miscalculation. '83 sounds more likely. My parents had 3 kids. Things can get mixed up.


I have a feeling that birthdays are just going to get uglier from here on out...

Derby Day!

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Mariachi band at Mamasita

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A Card from Work!

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Do Not Speed in Melbourne

Last month, I got my first ever speeding ticket.

I was going 70km in a 60km zone. I got a ticket for over $300. Over $300! I got caught by a traffic camera.

They are super strict about speeding here in Melbourne. There are advertisements on TV and on billboards describing the dangers of speeding. Because of the strict policing of posted speed limits, the vast majority of drivers here drive at or slightly below the speed limit. I don't want to speak for all Canadians, but it certainly feels slow to me.

Anyways, I wrote them a letter explaining that I was new to the city and prone to getting lost and I got pardoned! Hooray! I also drive slower. C'est la vie.

Every Shirt I Own

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Summer is finally coming to Melbourne!

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Why a Genie Won't Make you Happy

It's so true that you value things that you had to fight for. That it's important that you had to work and to strive to achieve or gain it.

Our brains are funny like that.

Also, you really DO want what you can't have. ESPECIALLY if you did have it at some point.

Oh brains. Why are you so crazy?

Designed with Purpose

I read something awhile ago about the creators of Toy Story. In developing the characters, they were faced with the dilemma of trying to give inanimate objects believable wants and desires.

If you think back to the films, the driving force behind all the action is the goal of Woody and his friends to be played with. This makes wonderful sense. A toy exists to be played with. If a toy could be sentient, it would find its greatest fulfilment in this. A raison d'être if you will.

I think having a purpose is important in a very fundamental way. I think we appreciate this when we handle objects that are designed with care; tools that are designed to do a specific task, and to do it well. Is there an adjective in the English language that describes how such objects are uniquely pleasing to us? I think we say things like "beautifully designed", but there must be a better descriptor, no?

The beauty of having a purpose seems to extend to living things as well. I'm thinking about this.

Humans would seem to be too complicated to be reduced to such simplifications. Do you or anyone you know really have a singular purpose? Or maybe purpose can be something broader, with multiple offshoots? Does something like "helping people", or "being happy" count as a purpose?

I've been fortunate/unfortunate for much of my life in that my purpose or goal at any one time was usually very clear, and usually externally generated. Do well on this test. Pass this exam. Do this presentation. etc...

I'm teetering now though, through a new window, off a new precipice. What happens after Melbourne?

Anything. Literally anything.

The only thing directing me is whatever purpose I find inside.

Melbourne Tram

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Habanero Plant Outside My House

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Art by Cousin Olive

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Happy Halloween!!!

So Australians don't do Halloween. I mean not really. It seems like little kids might do a bit of it. But no one else really.

This is a shame, since all Canadians know that Halloween is perhaps the greatest holiday of the year. There is nothing like walking into a party and seeing Batman talk to a princess. It's such fun to board a bus and be greeted by Mario, Luigi and another princess. It's really the best.

In any case, not to be dissuaded, I tried my best to find a way to celebrate Halloween here in Melbourne. I found a party that was being advertised as "Day of the Dead". Close enough? I sent an invite out to the people I know here, but the Australians just wouldn't have any of it. In the end, it was the North Americans I knew who banded together for a night out.

Finding a costume was particularly challenging. It's a shock to walk into a K-mart at the end of October and find nothing in the way of costumes. I sifted through and entire mall, and all I found were Santa outfits and prisoner outfits. Santa is not a Halloween appropriate costume.

So it was that myself, and two other fellows (AJ from New York and Rich from Toronto) went out for Halloween. Rich dressed up as Run DMC. AJ and I wore the prisoner costumes.

And it was awesome. Turns out "Day of the Dead" isn't a Halloween party really. It's some sort of Mexican festival. So our costumes were really didn't fit in. And there were frequent odd burlesque acts that I can only atribute to some thing in Australian culture I really don't understand. But it was rowdy, and we met lots of fun people and had good times.

In other news, I think I'm becoming a better dancer! After the Halloween party, I went to a club down the road. The music was good, so I was cutting the proverbial rug. A cool looking hip hop dancer came up to challenge me to a dance off! That must mean something right?

Robyn at Parklife!

I went to the Parklife music festival a few weeks back.

It was a rainy affair, but the music was fun and I also got a free burger with my ticket of admission, so it was all in all an awesome time.

The first act I saw was Plan B. He's an angry sounding rapper from the UK. I thought he was really good. Not cheerful sounding, but a good beat. His opening act did a beatbox version of Ni**as in Paris, which was great.

Some less memorable acts followed before I found myself at a set put on by Labrinth on one of the side stages. I've become a big fan of his since catching his show. It's a synthier, kinder version of rap. Highly recommended.

From there, I made my way to a set by Passion Pit. This is hipster music, made by hipsters for hipsters. This is not meant as a criticism. They're songs have great, singable choruses, and the audience (and I!) got totally into the singing and jumping around. They also made great use of confetti. I thought they were great, ironic old cardigans and all.

This brings us to the final act of the night, and the real reason I came to see Parklife 2012:

Robyn!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've become a devotee of Robyn's music for the past six months or so? Or rather, I listen to three of her songs. Most of you may have vague remembrances of her from some songs that were popular in the 90's. She has since had a resurgence in her popularity. Her oeuvre is kind of puzzling. I really, really like the three songs that I essentially listen to on repeat; I don't really care for the rest of her recent stuff.

In any case, I was particularly fortunate since Robyn's set at Parklife ran at the exact same time as some popular Aussie band. This meant that Robyn played a more intimate venue with only her devoted fans in attendance. Of which I am unashamedly one.

When I tell people about Robyn, the Swedish popstar, the pictures they imagine never match the reality. I suppose Swedish popstar does seem to paint a certain picture. If you ever get a chance to see Robyn though, you won't be disappointed. She danced in that very particular Robyn-type way. She sang with her Robyn-type conviction. She really connected with her audience, who responded in their delirious delight. It was awesome.

Dressing it Up

I've made the resolution to try and dress better many times.

I think there are arguments for and against.

Beauty is only skin deep.

vs

The clothes make the man.

Any reservations I may harbour regarding this is easily outweighed by the enthusiastic support I receive from the women in my family. I never thought myself badly dressed, but my mother and sisters certainly do feel there is room for improvement.

I moved to Australia with a suitcase and a large backpack. This barebones packing forced me to leave most of my clothes back in Canada. As a result, I feel I already dress better on this continent since I don't actually even have access to all the grubby clothes I used to lounge around in.

This past week, I've taken on another clothing initiative, which seems to be providing dividends. I've decided to wear more sport coats. My default when I needed a warm long sleeved garment used to be a hoody. It is now a sport coat.

It's a surprisingly versatile thing, and I must say I feel a bit classier. Much classier even.

“We are not held back by the love we did not receive in the past; but by the love we do not extend in the present.”

- Marianne Williamson

I Have Great Taste

Music I listen to on a regular basis must fulfill one of two criteria:

I must be able to dance to it.

OR

I must be able to sing to it.

I feel good to report that my playlist is far and away the most popular one at work. I have a different scrub nurse working with me on any given day of the week, and she/he always ends up singing along.

I think this is a notable achievement.

The current state of 'classical' music is often lamented. I mean, I go to maybe one classical concert a year? On average? And I literally swum around in the stuff for many of the formative years of my life. I don't know why, but as beautiful as it is, classical music just doesn't isn't as compulsively listenable as some of today's pop. It's harder to dance or sing to. At least the way I do it. Maybe it's a question of attention span?

And so...

A blog? Again?

How did we get here?

It's hard to believe, but the blogging all began about a decade ago. Before the era of Facebook, Twitter and the like.

A bunch of us all started blogging, and it became a wonderful way of staying in touch.

The unspoken conceit behind it all, was the thought that the pixels one threw into cyberspace might land on receptive retinas, might be read by minds that cared.

Ultimately, I suppose there are many reasons to blog. I know my family found it a useful way to keep in touch with a son always on the go.

I think it forces a degree of self reflection, which is hard to find time for in our modern day lives.
I value that it captures my state of mind at a point in time. It's precious to be able to look back, and see from whence I came. Finally, it is a connection. A link to those who know me, who may be near or far away, but all who lie a pixelated screen away.