Life – Page 6 – Nicolas Demers

Lost Souls

Boy, I hadn’t been to the Parade of Lost Souls in years! Sorry to say, I almost forgot about it. But no more!

It’s changed, though, I think. Oh, some things were the same: all the excellent costumes of robots and ghosts and vampires, a Blackberry, the cast of Futurama (Fry, Zoidberg, Leela and Farnsworth), the black & white spies from Mad magazine, at least one Sarah Palin, a headline announcing John McCain’s victory (shriek!!!), the aroma of wacky tobacky in the air, glow sticks and those little plastic flashing antennas (I’ve actually got a pair of those, too, but I forgot them. Maybe it’s just as well, they’re really uncomfortable).

But… there wasn’t any actual parade. Or maybe we missed it? That was pretty disappointing to me. Years ago, I loved how the whole neighbourhood got in the game, individual houses or apartments staging their own little monster plays as the Parade passed by. It wasn’t just a few people putting on a show, it was a whole community event. And then, at Britannia High School, there’d be huge shadow puppets and fireworks and the spooky, otherworldly festival.

Still, Grandview Park hosted the festival, with shrines to the dead and the lost. That’s an important part of the event, too. Hallowe’en isn’t just about trick-or-treating, it’s a time when the veil between the worlds is thin. And, hard-nosed atheist though I am, it’s a time I allow myself just a little bit of spirituality…

Boo!

I am unbreakable

Following up on my last post: after two weeks, my scrapes and bruises are healing nicely. Some deep bruising in my side and lower back is still bothering me, though only in the morning when I get up. And even then, I only go “Ow!” instead of “OWOWOW MOTHERF***** OW!” like I used to do for a few days after the accident. So it’s all good.

But here’s the best news: my wrist isn’t broken after all! I had it re-x-rayed this week, and saw a doctor yesterday to confirm: no sign of a fracture, it’s just a sprain. Yay! No spending months in a cast! I’m not out of the woods yet, though. Gotta work to recover my strength and flexibility. Hell, after just two weeks in that splint, my wrist and forearm were noticeably skinnier–and I’m no Mr. Universe to begin with. But the doctor said those squeezy stress-relieving balls are excellent for building up strength, and I just happen to have a couple lying around. At this rate, I should be back playing volleyball in a few weeks.

Yes, this has been a painful and inconvenient interval, but there’s been no permanent damage. This too shall pass.

Getting a little too close to nature

So this weekend some friends and I went up to Whistler for an ATV guided tour. I’d never gone ATVing before, but it sounded like fun, right? Broaden my horizons, that’s what I say. It worked pretty well with the zip-lining.

I didn’t mind that the weekend turned out cold and rainy. I had the right gear, and they provided extra stuff like waterproof pants and goggles (for the mud). Was a little shaky on the controls, but with help from the hot French-Canadian guide, I was getting the hang of it. Turns were still a bit tricky, but I enjoyed the feel of cold mud and rain on me, and the loud, throbbing engine between my legs. Heh.

Then, halfway up the mountain, I lost control of my ATV and drove off the road.

The next few seconds were kind of a blur, to be honest. There was tumbling… and noise… and then I was looking up at the sky, rain in my face, and people were calling my name, asking if I was okay. Was I okay? My right wrist hurt like a bitch, various other body parts were sending damage reports, but nothing critical. I answered (hey, my voice was okay) and the guide yelled at me not to move. Check, not moving.

Looking around, I was about ten feet below the road. Oh, and there was the ATV, upside down and facing backward. Huh. Good thing I’d bailed out like the guides said to do if we lost control, otherwise I’d probably be posting this through a Ouija board.

So the hot French-Canadian guide came down and checked me out. No, not that way, you pervs. Neck was fine, back was fine, yes I could move my toes. Nothing seemed broken except maybe my wrist. My vision was getting cloudy, which in a way was kind of cool: just that morning we’d watched “Enzo the Smart” (you know, the ReBoot episode where everything turns 8-bit?) And it was just like that, all in shades of blue and green. Mind you, in a way it wasn’t so cool, because I was afraid I’d pass out or my brain got bonked even through my helmet.

My left shoulder, side and leg, and lower back muscles were seriously sore, but with a bit of help I walked back up to the road. They say any accident you can walk away from is a good one, right? So we waited for the van to take me down to the health centre. Sandra offered to stay with me, but I told her she didn’t have to do that. I felt (mostly) fine, and also guilty of ruining my friends’ good time with my carelessness.

At one point my vision got seriously worse, and I had to sit down. Don’t know why I’d kept standing that whole time—maybe to prove I was really okay? But as soon as I sat, my head cleared and I could see again. I guess it was just shock, my brain was okay after all.

On the way back to town, we saw a black bear by the side of the road, so Todd the hunky guide (seriously, where do they find these guys?) stopped so I could take a picture.

It was a healthy specimen, said Todd, with a good thick coat. A bit later, we saw a cub by itself. No pictures, sorry.

At the health centre (warm at last!) my wrist hurt too much, so I had to have the nurse help me take my pants off. What a revoltin’ development this was!

Okay, so, final verdict: ribs, not broken. Wrist, either a sprain or a scaphoid fracture. Apparently they’re hard to diagnose even with X-rays, so I’m wearing a splint for now. Which… is taking a bit of adjusting, and that’s putting it mildly. Not to complain, lucky to be alive and all that, but going without my dominant hand is a huge pain in the ass. See, I typed that “in ht eass” at first. Even dressing myself one-and-a-half-handed is fucking hard, and I may have to keep doing it for 2 months or more. Bleah. Well, this too shall pass, and I’ve learned my lesson: no more Xtreme sportz for this little lame duck

For my birthday, I got a power outage

On Monday morning, the power went out in part of Gastown and downtown. Specifically, the part where my work was. Surprise holiday! I spent it walking around a bit, running some errands, and going to the Art Gallery. There was an exhibit on comics, anime and cartoons which… but more about that later.

Today the power was still out. So, I called up my friend Sandra (who had the summer off, being a teacher) and we hung out for the day.

Today the power was still out. So, I called up my friend Sandra (who had the summer off, being a teacher) and we hung out for the day. In the morning we drove all the way down to Crescent Beach in Surrey and checked out the beautiful scenery, including wildlife I’d never seen before around Vancouver.

Then we went to see Kung Fu Panda, which was hella fun. Then a spot of Guitar Hero (Aerosmith edition). Not a bad birthday.

Galiano Island

It was kind of a last-minute thing, really. A ferry queen (yes, you read that right) friend of mine wanted to take one last trip on the Queen of Tsawwassen, which was due to retire at the end of the summer. Would I like to go on a day trip to Galiano island? Sure! I’d never been on any of the Gulf Islands, only looking at them from the ferry on my way to Victoria. I wasn’t sure what the weather would be like, since the reports said it might rain, but what the hell. You only live once. As it turned out, the day was absolutely gorgeous. Clouds started rolling in in late in the afternoon, but it never rained and the weather cooled down only a little bit.

Galiano was neat, though. Not quite what expected, though. I’d assumed there’d be some kind of small village around the ferry terminal, but all I saw were a couple of roadside stands and a small cluster of shops. Oh, including one very friendly diner that served delicious salmon burgers. Grand Central Emporium, if you’re ever in the area. You can’t miss it, I think it’s the only eatery around.

Actually, I should count my blessings. From what I hear, some islands don’t have anything near the ferry terminal. You have to drive or walk for miles before you reach civilisation. Come to think of it, that includes Vancouver Island as well.

We didn’t have any plans or vehicles, only an afternoon to kill, so we just wandered around. Our first destination was Bellhouse Park, facing Mayne Island to the east, where we snapped pictures of Active Pass, Bald Eagles, tide pools teeming with life, and some funky-looking rock formations. Then north up Sturdies Bay Road towards Whaler Bay and… whatever else the island had to offer. But aside from some great views and pleasant backwoods hiking, that turned out to be “not much.” Almost all the seaside land was privately owned, so we couldn’t just walk up to the shore to snap pictures, and the real attractions were on the other side of the island—Montague Harbour, say, or hiking up Mount Galiano.

But that’s okay. I had a great time, and a little taste of what the islands have to offer. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.

Granville Island

So I hadn’t been to Granville Island in years. Since the Sunday of the May long weekend was the first really nice Spring we’ve had in a long while, and the terminal was just down the street from my new place, I decided to take the False Creek Ferry and see Granville Island again.

More pictures!

I signed the lease!

This has been an interesting week and a half.

So for a while now, I’ve I’ve been thinking about moving downtown from the wilds of Port Coquitlam. I bought this condo almost six years ago; friends were buying into the building, they took me along one time and I totally fell in love with the show suite. I had money saved up and liked the idea of owning my own place, so I bought.

This has been an interesting week and a half.

So for a while now, I’ve been thinking about moving downtown from the wilds of Port Coquitlam. I bought this condo almost six years ago; friends were buying into the building, they took me along one time and I totally fell in love with the show suite. I had money saved up and liked the idea of owning my own place, so… I bought. The downsides of living in the burbs—needing a car to get anywhere, dick-all to do, and everything so far from everything else—didn’t bother me so much. Until a couple of years ago I worked on Burnaby Mountain, then in East Van, and my downtown social life was… poor. So I was content enough in my PoCoCondo.

Stuff happened, as stuff often does, and I was forced to reconsider a lot of my choices. Not that I regret buying a condo (it’s a terrific investment) but the reality of living in the boonies is beginning to wear on me. After being (metaphorically) kicked in the pants several times in the last few months, I finally began to take serious steps towards moving. Last Monday I met with a property manager that would handle the rental of my condo. Then, after figuring out my price range I started pounding the pavement. Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like schlepping up and down the West End (and between the West End and Gastown, ‘cos I was still at work) when you’re fighting a cold. But I wanted to finish this as soon as possible, otherwise I was afraid I’d just keep coming up with excuses to put it off. So I checked out six places in the span of two grueling days, but it all paid off because I found an excellent apartment. It’s on a relatively quiet street, just two block from Sunset Beach and two blocks from the heart of Davie Village, fairly spacious for a downtown 1-bedroom, and very reasonably priced. Score!

Hell, I may end up saving money on this venture, especially since I can just walk to work (about half an hour either way, I timed it). Plus I’ll have more time to cook for myself, which means more savings. But of course, the goal is not to save money. The goal is to not be so damn isolated so much of the time. Downtown is where I need to be right now.

First post!

…of the year, that is.

Okay, it’s been almost a month. What have I been up to, you ask?

…of the year, that is.

Okay, it’s been almost a month. What have I been up to, you ask?

Well, I spent 10 days in Ottawa and Montreal, visiting family. I saw Mamma Mia! at the National Arts Centre, which was awesome. Yeah, it was a pretty threadbare plot, little more than an excuse to string together two dozen ABBA songs, but that’s exactly what I signed up for, so that’s all right. I visited my brother for New Year’s, as per tradition. I was actually there for a couple of days, and had the chance to explore the city a bit. With a borrowed Metro pass (thanks, Laurie!) I first swung by Île-Sainte-Hélène, then wandered around downtown snapping pictures of churches and interesting buildings. Unfortunately, this being New Year’s Eve, a lot of places were closed. Now I won’t get to see if the Museum of Contemporary Art would have been worth the detour. Boo. On the bright side, I learned something about French-Canadian martyrs.

Oh, and I finished Les Misérables. Yeah, it only took me… what, nine months? But it was worth the effort. To be honest, I’m still in the process of digesting it. I think what I loved best about it was how it made history come alive. All I remember from studying the early 19th century in school is a bunch of dates: Napoleon, Waterloo, Louis XVIII, Charles X, this Republic, that Empire… but Hugo gives context and depth to those numbers, by going on about slang, fashion, popular culture, local history and various fascinating trivia that ties everything together. Les Misérables is the story of Paris as much as that of Jean Valjean, Cosette, Javert and Thénardier. More so, maybe; they’re the lens through which the reader experiences the revolutions and wars and proto-socialism and all the other crazy, exciting events of the era. In fact, they may be no more than symbols of different aspects of French society; the misérable who found a way out, did good, and died well (Valjean); the misérable who was irredeemably bad, kept abusing his fellow human beings in spite of numerous chances to mend his ways, and ended up settling in America to become a slave trader (Thénardier); the incarnation of Law, harsh and absolute, who couldn’t go on when faced with the truth that shades of grey existed.

Yeah. Still digesting.

And it’s a brand new year, with a brand new job. Yes, I was laid off last November. (Which, now that I think about it: it is just me, or are people more likely to be laid off after long weekends? Because I was laid off just after Remembrance Day. The time before that, after Labour Day. And before that, Thanksgiving.) And this new job is Web development, which is something I’ve been wanting to get into for a while.

2008 should be interesting. I’ve… had a lot of stuff happen to me in the last couple of years, a lot of it painful, most of it growthful. Haven’t blogged about it, ain’t gonna. But the point is, though I’m still in a period of transition, I feel that I’ve reached a turning point, and my life is finally on track. Yes, 2008 should definitely be an interesting year.

Giving Thanks For Whistler

Boo on me. Working so hard on my blog & gallery redesign that I totally forgot to write about Thanksgiving. And it was pretty special, since I spent it in Whistler with a few close friends. Just one day (Sunday afternoon to Monday afternoon), but it was a hell of a day.

The good omens started on the drive up. It had been raining for a few days, but the weather was just then clearing up. Which meant dozens of gorgeous rainbows lining Highway 99. The first almost took my breath away, and it took all my concentration to keep my eyes on the road. Over the next couple of hours, I did get a little more used to them—and the gorgeous scenery I hadn’t seen in a while.

Then dinner, walking around a bit, and hanging out, then off to bed.

Monday promised to be clear, so I set my alarm for 6:00 to get some sunrise pics… forgetting the crucial detail that Whistler is surrounded by mountains. At 6AM it was still mostly dark, nowhere near actual sunrise. Oh well. So I wandered around, took some nice photos of Whistler in the early morning fog, went back to my room, tried to get back to sleep, couldn’t, went out again and finally saw a good sunrise over Blackcomb Mountain around 9AM. Then a few minutes later the fog came back in and hid it. Boo.

We had breakfast, walked around Whistler for a bit, then spontaneously decided to go up Whistler Mountain. What a difference 2 months makes! The last (and first) time I was there in 2003, it was August. Now snow covered the whole mountain (enough for at least one small avalanche), the hiking trails were closed, and I was kind of freezing. Sure, I was dressed warm, but obviously not enough for the mountain. Still: we kept moving, admired the scenery—and it was breathtakingly gorgeous with the fog-slash-clouds playing around the many mountains whose names I never bother to learn. Oh, and on the way down, we caught a glimpse of a mother bear out with two cubs.

We had an early turkey dinner, because most of us had to go back to Vancouver. That evening I went to see Between Heaven and Earth, part of the VIFF lineup. Excellent movie, much better than what I expected. I thought it would be about the trials and tribulations of two families of wandering circus folks in Uzbekistan. And it is about their trials, but so much more than that. The circus people are not passive recipients, they’re involved in their community, and even in national politics. There’s issues of tradition vs. modernity, faith and religion, and the greater social/economic picture of Uzbekistan. Great stuff, stark and troubling at times, but not sensationalistic.

If I lived downtown I’d be home by now

(Arrr!)

Well, I’m blogging from home, but still. It hit me tonight, with a dazzling clarity, as I grabbed a bite just before catching the last Trainbus: if I lived downtown I wouldn’t have to commute way out (okay, not way way out, I know) to the boonies, on top of an exhausting day at work.

(Arrr!)

Still haven’t taken any real steps to move out of the ‘burbs, but this is yet another kick in the pants.