Am I a Buddhist?

                                                                                                  (Image used without permission.)

There are numerous creatures on Planet Earth that, to me at least, seem to have no purpose whatsoever other than to annoy the hell out of humankind, some to the point of insanity.  Many people would include flies in this list of 'God's Irritants,' but at least in breaking down waste they serve a purpose.  But, for example, what is the point of mosquitos?  I hate the bastards.  And then, just as detestable, there are wasps.  Man, do I hate, hate, HATE wasps!  Look at that little git up there.  He's actually a very handsome wee beastie, a miracle of nature if you will, but his impressive looks and antennae mean fuck all to me.  I.  HATE.  WASPS!

We have a lovely deck at home, and there is little better Susan and I love to do in the summertime than to take our breakfast or supper out there to enjoy a peaceful meal together in the sunshine.  The local wasp population, however, seem to have different ideas.  The moment we sit down with our food, out they come in vast squadrons, determined to make our lives as miserable as possible for the duration of our meal.

Even the way they fly, randomly and drunkenly dicking around and weaving about in the air, often around our legs, is so goddamned annoying.  Consequently, we've been chased indoors off the deck several times, unable to concentrate on our food, as it gets cold while (note) I wildly swing a swatter about to destroy the little assholes.  Susan is much more Zen about it than I could ever be, at least attempting to eat her dinner, while I turn the air blue, screaming at the stripy little monsters, chasing them all over the deck in a mad rage.  The neighbours must be greatly amused.  Little has given me more joy than hitting a homer with one, sending its instantly dead, tiny body hurtling over the deck railing when I connect sound and true with one in flight.  Yes, for I AM HUMAN, and the wasps will bow down before me!

However, something in me has changed recently, and although I have ideas about it, I think I am at a loss to clearly explain it:

I have actually started feeling guilty for killing the fuckers.  True!

This all started when we recently discovered a small nest on the underside of the roof of our shed.  After leaving it be for a week or so, we simply couldn't stand the hassle at mealtime anymore, so one day last week at sundown, I zapped it with a can of Raid, destroying the nest and its occupants with one short blast.  I watched the little creatures twitch and spasm as they lost the battle for life, finally stopping moving... and it made me feel awful.  I took another look the following morning; there was no sign of life, just a dissolved nest and a few black and yellow corpses hanging from it.

I had destroyed a society in an instant, and it weighed heavy on me.

Our friend Victor - who, if it is even possible, hates wasps more than I do - recently gave us a beautiful glass jar honey trap to help with the wasp problem, which continued apace after the shed nest was levelled.  It has caught quite a few wasps - flies, too - and I watched them as they went through the final throes of their short lives, helplessly trying to escape the sticky fluid they had unwittingly gone to investigate, only to meet their doom.  And I actually felt awful for bringing that about, for killing creatures that know no better than to follow their instincts, however annoying or inconvenient their actions are to me or any other human...

There is so much destruction of peoples and cultures in this world, as there has been since humans learned to fight each other.  With the recent rise of ISIS, Boko Haram and their vile ilk, humans who without a care wantonly set out to destroy anything or anyone that does not align with their vision of how the world should be, has come a change in how I view the world.  I have become more tolerant and less tolerant at the same time, which is a confusing state of mind to say the least.  But witnessing the destruction of astonishing historical sites, simply because they are deemed 'un-Islamic,' or whatever, has evidently had a profound effect on me.  Killing these wasps as I have, wiping out a community of 'innocent' creatures, certainly in my mind draws parallels with what is going on out there.  Quite obviously it cannot in any way truly compare, but the evils of the world seemed to have heightened my sensitivity to my own actions, even if those actions are 'merely' destroying a wasps' nest and all who dwelled in it.

This is very interesting food for thought.  I have been going through many organic changes for the last couple of years, mostly for the better, and in seeing the death of a small society of creatures by my hand - even those that are universally acknowledged as pests - as something that troubles me, is a further mental development I find fascinating.  At the end of the day it is such an infinitesimally insignificant event, both in my own world and the world at large, that I or no-one else need ever give it a second thought... yet I have. 

When I told him about this, Victor just laughed.  Susan, too.  Perhaps they have a point?  Watch this space, as this does not feel like the end of the story.

  

In June 2015, I...

...bought a Billie Holiday 78, with Fine & Mellow on one side and the ever-affecting Strange Fruit on the other. It has instantly become one of my most treasured possessions. I listen to Billie's haunting voice through crackles and hiss that seem to represent the fog of time between its release and today.

...watched my lacrosse team, the Nanaimo Timbermen, totally fall apart. After promising much by starting the season with home-and-home victories against the seemingly unstoppable Victoria Shamrocks - the second best team in Canada - they have since dropped seven games in a row, and are headed absolutely nowhere. AGAIN. Season in, season out, it's always the same. If things continue like this I don't know how the team will survive. A good start would be to get rid of the asshole goalie and a coach evidently well out of his depth. Great players do not always great coaches make, and this is a classic example.  

...was horrified and deeply concerned to learn of a friend (allegedly) succumbing to crack and/or heroin addiction. What the hell does one do in such circumstances? Intervene? If so, how? Stand back and let it unfold to its natural conclusion, whatever that may be? I am still trying to figure it out, but in the meantime all I can do is pray in my own way that she will somehow emerge from this nightmare.

...walked 40 kilometres (100 laps of the NDSS Rotary Bowl) for the Canadian Cancer Society, raising over $3,500 in the process. In the past I've rarely had the courage of my convictions, but having set myself such a difficult physical goal I am very proud of this achievement. It's a good feeling being top dog for once, especially when it concerns something that really matters.

...decided that when I grow up, I really want to work for the Canadian Cancer Society.

...celebrated three years' ownership of Reggie, our utterly beautiful, endlessly fascinating feline companion. He brings us endless joy, companionship and entertainment.

...nurtured our burgeoning vegetable garden. We are still novices, but having lots of fun seeing what we can grow successfully. It's looking pretty good, and in some delicious spinach we've already enjoyed the first fruits of our labours, so to speak.

...thoroughly enjoyed a reunion with a friend from the UK. We miss Jon (and his wife Jenny), so it was great to spend a few hours in his inimitable company, before he had to head off again to continue leading a group of birders around BC. Come back soon, buddy.

...clinked glasses with a friend who, after living and working (as a lawyer) in Canada for 44 years, finally became a Canadian citizen this month. 'Hilarious,' it was, how many hoops he had to jump through after all this time. To reiterate, he's a lawyer of pension age.

...saw my first roller derby bout in quite a long time. As much as I enjoy the spectacle, even better is Susan's wild reaction to events out on that track. She loves her derby, does my girl, whooping and hollering her approval. throughout "Get involved," I said, and she may well do so.

...experienced the joy of our friend Louise diving headlong into her first music festival, aged 65. After two years of ill health, it really was incredible to see her living a little at the ever-wonderful Campbell Bay Music Festival, where...

...saw some amazing bands and artists: Brasstronaut, Slow Sprit, Hannah Epperson, Wooden Horsemen and Speaker Face in particular.

...looked forward to July.

Life is rarely dull.   

Time to Install a Yard-Cam

Sir David Attenborough really ought to haul his ass and a camera crew over to our backyard.  So much wildlife activity is occurring out there, it's just ridiculous.  Beyond the wide variety of birds and Anna's Hummingbirds attracted to their respective feeders, all manner of fauna appearances are delighting us on an increasingly frequent basis.  Following the extraordinary Halloween 2014 Red-Tailed Hawk Sighting, we've had a couple of entertaining wildlife events lately.

Our next door neighbours have a beautiful, ultra-fluffy cat named Bourbon, who likes nothing better than to crap on our lawn.  Short of erecting a barbed wire fence to keep her out, there's little we can do to stop her, but as she's a beautiful animal we cannot help but enjoy her feline magnificence, even if she happens to be pinching one off at the time.  Last week she had cause to make us guffaw, behaving in a way we'd never seen cats do before:

I spotted a lot of bird activity on the black plastic we laid down over the winter to kill off the weeds.  There were maybe a couple dozen starlings ('tatty-heads,' as my dear mum used to call them), excitedly pecking away at something on the plastic.  It had rained overnight and was warm, so I guess there were some bugs on the plastic that starlings savour.  As they pecked away, Bourbon appeared through a gap in the fence, unseen by the birds.  She moved stealthily and rapidly across the yard, belly brushing the ground, then - we could not believe this! - she went under the plastic in order to stalk the birds! A Bourbon-shaped lump moved across the area under the black plastic, causing us to almost spit our coffee across the kitchen (from where we have a great view of much of our yard).  The lump moved slowly towards the birds, then they rumbled the approaching menace and took flight to safety.  Susan was so concerned for Bourbon's safety that she went down into the yard to summon her out, lest she suffocate under there!

A few days later I was doing the dishes, absentmindedly looking out at the yard and bird feeder, when a black variant of the Eastern Grey Squirrel appeared from nowhere, sitting up on its back legs, frozen to the spot.  Not a foot from its face, staring right at it, was an Anna's Hummingbird, stationary in the air.  There they faced each other, stock still, in some kind of Mexican standoff, for a good ten to fifteen seconds.  I watched, fascinated, then the hummingbird decided he/she had had enough of this larking about, so moved like a bullet to one of the feeders just outside the kitchen window.  The squirrel then zoomed across the yard to our gate, climbed it, then immediately jumped off and tore down the back alley at an incredible speed...pursued by two cats!  What happened next, as they disappeared from view, I have no idea.

With so much of this stuff on the Internet, it would be fun to be in the right place at the right time to capture some of this craziness and show the world what goes on in just one backyard in our little town.  Heaven only knows what will happen next, but we would not rule anything out.  If a three-legged cougar came wandering in and started playing baseball with Bourbon, observed by some great blue herons and a couple of elks, it wouldn't feel at all out of place. 

   

Anyone Know of a Good Doctor?

Our GP is a prick.

Around six years ago, I was experiencing some heart flutters and bumps that naturally got me extremely concerned. I'd never felt such sensations before and, because it was a heart issue, whenever they occurred I went into a panic, naturally exacerbating the problem yet further. I visited the doc, who suspected the extremely common cardiac arrhythmia was to blame (which, ultimately, was correct, and it's now fine), so he arranged some tests.

While I was waiting for dates for these tests the sensations grew in severity, likely amplified by my terror, but on a couple of occasions scaring the living daylights out of me. I was having trouble trying to keep calm about it, so went back to the doc to request a small prescription for something like Ativan to sedate me a little until the test dates came through. As he reluctantly filled out a scrip, he said to me, "Well, David, maybe you should take this as a warning, and perhaps begin to get your affairs in order."

Can you effing believe that?! To this day, I cannot believe he said that to me, and everyone I've ever told about it - including other medical professionals - has been aghast at his utter lack of compassion, support and empathy, not to say anything of his obviously appalling bedside manner.

Over the last few weeks I've been experiencing some aches and pains around my right flank, being the site of my last cancer surgery at the tail-end of 2010. These have persisted, so with my health history I'm always going to check these things out. So I trundled back to the doc - who both Susan and I feel is always all but ushering us out of his office before we've even got in the door - to get it all checked out. He arranged blood work and an ultrasound, neither of which revealed anything of significance, but the lovely radiologist at the imaging clinic strongly recommended I press for a CT scan to cover all bases.

Back to the doc with her recommendation I went, and during that appointment - because he seemed trying to avoid setting up a CT scan for me - I was beginning to get the feeling he just didn't believe me, that he thought my pains are a product of my imagination. If there is one thing I most certainly am NOT, it's a hypochondriac!

So, I demanded a CT scan based on my health history alone, and he eventually agreed. The results came through to reveal nothing to concern my GP or anyone else involved in my health care, yet these aches and pains remain. Bewildered, I asked the doc what happens next. He looked at me with this disbelieving expression and said, "I guess your definition of pain and mine are very, very different," and told me there was nothing left to investigate. 

Yeah, my GP is a prick, alright.   

The Cutest Thing, Like, Ever

I absolutely adore hummingbirds. I see them most every day of my life, and will never, ever get bored of watching them. For so many reasons, what extraordinary creatures they are! I love the wee critters so much that when deciding upon what I should get as my next tattoo - wanting something representative of my life on, and love for, the island I call home - I chose to get a copy of a beautiful First Nations carving of a hummingbird we picked up on Thetis Island a few years ago. (I get my new ink in May.)

So, all this said, imagine my squeals of delight and how hard I had to bite my bottom lip when recently stumbling across the incredible video below. I have seen thousands of cute animal videos, but in all my days I have never seen anything even remotely approaching the impossible cuteness of this clip. I'm not sure I will ever see anything so damned cute again! Even the photographs I saw just yesterday of twenty newly hatched chameleon babies - perfectly mini versions of their adult selves - can hold a candle to this awesome piece of film. As if I could not love hummingbirds anymore, just look at this...

The (B)log Lady

When Twin Peaks was originally screened back in 1990-91, I was working long hours away from home (in Belfast), so missed pretty much all of it. Only now, all these years later, am I finally catching up and seeing what all the fuss was about. Susan bought the deluxe boxed set of both seasons a while back, and we are now watching episodes of it every other night. I'm finding it utterly compelling, especially a few years ago having visited Snoqualmie Falls and the Salish Lodge & Spa, which feature heavily in the show.

There are many fascinating characters in Twin Peaks, one of whom, the Log Lady, introduces each episode with a few lines of wisdom or veiled clues as to elements of the episode's content. As a writer, I particularly enjoyed her spiel preceding episode 10:

"Letters are symbols. They are building blocks of words which form our languages. Languages help us communicate. Even with complicated languages used by intelligent people, misunderstanding is a common occurrence. We write things down sometimes - letters, words - hoping they will serve us and those with whom we wish to communicate. Letters and words, calling out for understanding."

And on that note...

Bazinga!

 

Over the last two months Susan and I have gobbled up all seven seasons of The Big Bang Theory available on DVD as I write. It has became something of an obsession, really, and after one binge viewing session we'd enjoy another the following evening. This, despite the fact we had successfully ignored it - and Susan's boss, aghast we had never watched it, and insisting we do - for a full seven years since the first episode aired. The thing is, we don't watch television - just DVDs and BluRays - so remain only partly aware of the hit or good shows, and blissfully unaware of a great many others. (On a regular basis, customers trade in DVDs of series' at the store that I have never heard of or read about.)  Anyway, whenever TBBT DVDs have come in, they've usually been snapped up immediately, so when good condition copies of the first five seasons came into the store in December, as a store perk available to me is borrowing movies I decided to bring them home to see what the fuss was about.

 

It didn't take too long before we were absolutely hooked, and bought the lot! Not for nothing does a sitcom in this age of distraction and byte-sized 'entertainment' reach eight seasons,  but with TBBT it is extremely easy to see why. This show is so funny, sharp, poignant, emotional, observant and beautifully written and acted, that it truly is up there with the sitcom royalty of such as Frasier, Friends et al. We have watched 159 episodes so far (only behind on Season 8, yet to be released on DVD), and have loved every single one! Seriously, the brilliant writing team has yet to come close to dropping the ball, and in pretty much every episode there is at least one line so funny that we have to press pause on the remote control, laugh ourselves to the point of exhaustion, then regain composure, wipe away the tears, and rejoin the episode. It's that funny. Adding to the pleasure of this joyous experience is the regular social commentary, when the writers throw in barbed comments in directions thoroughly deserving of them, a factor that often makes us cheer out loud! 

 

The obvious ilk of Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, The Sopranos and Six Feet Under aside, it's been been a long time since I fell so hard for a show, especially a sitcom. Far from it being comedy aimed at the lowest common denominator, if you will - I would include such as the Hangover trilogy, American Pie and all that dumb shit - this is sophisticated, yet direct humour, appreciated across the board by just about everyone. We have an unfortunately currently housebound university professor friend recovering from a serious car smash, so we've been feeding her DVDs to keep her entertained. She thinks TBBT is just about the funniest show she's ever seen! With this in mind, I've pondered the huge appeal TBBT has for me/us, dissecting the elements that make it so magical.

 

Firstly, it is, as I say, uproariously funny. The lines written for each character are perfectly in tune with their carefully developed personalities, and delivered to a tee by the impeccably cast ensemble. Comic timing is all, but will always fall flat in the face of flaccid material. Quite how the TBBT writers have managed to remain so consistently high on the hilarious-o-meter for what is now just one season short of 200 episodes is utterly bewildering, but as long as they continue to produce such side-splitting material and develop the characters at the perfect pace they have done so far, this show can run and run. The producers of The Simpsons should take note.

 

Secondly, I relate emotionally to traits of every single character. It's all about outsiders, nerds, geeks and dreamers who occupy their own place in this world to the puzzlement of much of the rest of society. It celebrates, rather than excludes, the 'different' folks among us, in this instance (principally) those brilliant souls in the arena of science that no one ever thinks about, but without whom this world would not turn. Besides their achievements it looks at their quirks, insecurities and vulnerabilities - such as the very real, awful situation of being alone, yet having no clue how to rectify it - and it does so with great compassion.

 

One aspect of this is looking at the characters as true products of their parents and families, so despite their glorious uniqueness they are presented as very real, very human. The show considers the pressures of succeeding under the keen eyes of parents that are, variously, cold, aloof and detached; religiously pious; overbearingly suffocating and needy, or - in the case of Raj - determined that their offspring conform to societal tradition (by agreeing to an arranged marriage). It also examines culture clashes, the complex nature of relationships between people of radically different backgrounds, and... oh man, I could go on and on.

 

In an article in the British newspaper The Guardian last October,  the correspondent called TBBT "an unstoppable force," and as a committed fan that's how it seems. In this world of increasing horrific violence and chaos, this is a show that brings a massive amount of joy to an awful lot of people: 18,000,000 Americans tuned into the premiere episode of Season 8, for heaven's sake; it remains the most watched show on US TV, and one of the most watched of all time, continually shattering its own viewing figures stats.

 

To have a right royal belly laugh at the end of a day filled with grim headlines, work drudgery and the rigours of everyday 21st century life - well, it is everything, at least to Susan and I. It's not that we bury our heads in the sand as to the madness all around us - far from it, especially me - but for as long as we wish to we can escape it all in the bosom of TBBT, laughing our heads off as we salute people, albeit fictitious characters, that we relate to in so many ways. Because our tastes are generally more aligned to alternative subcultures than the mainstream, we are far from typical people of our age; there are many out there who think we're weird, but it's simply the way we are, and we will change for nobody. I'm sure that this lies at the very core of why we love these beautiful characters of TBBT so much: just like us, whether the show's inhabitants are genii or not, they are still regular people.

 

We can't wait for Season 8 to be released on DVD. We'll blast through it as we have the previous seven, then likely start all over again to try catch the bits we missed when laughing our asses off so hard. Yeah, laughter really is the best medicine, and this is a world in great need of it right now. If you read this and for some reason, like us, you've let TBBT pass you by for any given reason, do yourself a favour and jump aboard. You won't regret it, I promise.