For that day when we all have the time.

A little over a month ago, I made a promise to myself. I’d increase the amount of posting I’d do here as so to bring me back to the standard of one a day. I kept running through my head, trying to hold onto ideas to post over the course of my mundane workdays to try and hold onto some useful nugget in which I could ramble with, and some days I could, and some I couldn’t. I was content to give it up as a bad job, and in all truthfulness, I would rather have something with punch to it, not just a jumbled thought to fill the space. A friend, ages gone by, told me these should be for me first off, and as such, I shouldn’t let the practice or opinion of others affect my posting. As such, quantity over quality. Still, it has been unsettling.

Roll back four years. In film school, I could post easily twice to three times DAILY. Now it’s a struggle to get three out in a week. As this machine called life crunches on ahead, the amount of time I have to actually enjoy has dwindled. People may laugh each time I say this, but there is a very specific reason that Battlestar Galactica resonates with me. And it’s not having the hots for Starbuck (DAWN!) The show is really a mirror to my soul. And hats off to Ron Moore and David Eick’s creative talents (and their host of writers). They’ve really captured the essence of the human condition. We ALL live in a story that is told again and again throughout time.

Think about it. I’ve lost most of my family. Of the ones that are still around, I’m a continent away, far from home. All it would take would be for my neighbours to dress as chrome toasters to make the analogy complete.

Which brings us to last week. I had just finished taking my airbrake course, the final step from leaving my current, dead-end job employer to one with significantly more promise for the future. Still, one obstacle remained. Taking the ICBC test (yup, I had to take the course to write a knowledge test… uggghhh). Now the hurdle wasn’t being prepared for the test, but rather getting to a location in time to take it. Now throw in one of the most physically grueling weeks in terms of workload, and now that possibility is threatened. Still, I persevered, wrote and aced the test, and now stand to just the waiting game to find out when fortune will finally smile upon me.

It is, however, sufficient to say that the human condition is not without limits. The last few months have been a culmination to this point, preparing, pacing, waiting until the door finally opens. And it’s toll hit Friday. And to put it bluntly, it does not pay to be the sharp, hardworking guy in the 21^st Century. I’m a firm believer in the Dilbert Principle. Only the incompetent get ahead. They need me to DO, not to LEAD. Me LEADING would impact management bonuses. As such, not only do I get my queue for Friday, I have to play clean up for others as well. Employment fairness has gone the way of the dodo. It became too much. I finally came face to face with reality. My job is killing me.

A doctor may argue my conclusion on a physical basis, but the will to live has been stretched too thin. Battle after battle with no hope of improvement has a very unnerving psychological consequence. The passion, the desire, the want fades completely away. I was becoming an empty shell, fighting a losing battle. And if there was no hope for change, it would be all over. Thankfully, it is not the case. But you couldn’t convince me of that on Friday.

“Because it’s not enough to just live. You have to have something to live for. Let it be Earth.” – Commander William Adama, Miniseries.

And there’s the rub. I haven’t been to a film in the cinema, well, since… I can’t even remember when. Shocking from the film student who saw three weekly, plus something on disc every night. What happened to that passion? I sacrificed what was core to my character just to avoid the cost. Mind you, it doesn’t help that 90% of the lot is shit, and the other 10% Dawn and I can’t agree on. Time and money, two resources in great scarcity, have been tearing me apart. Well no more.

Soon it will be that day when I once again have the time.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

No one is asking anyone to forget, but we have to look to the future

I never got the whole reminiscence of the sixties that my parents (okay, my Dad, Mom didn’t seem to be the wild child the old man was, well is) had when I was young. In more recent times, I really get it now. The most obvious and consistant place I relate is on my iTunes list. There’s so much shit on there that just doesn’t get played anymore. Pure. Late 80’s R.E.M. Jane’s Addiction. The Smiths. Doughboys. Barenaked Ladies. Blur. They Might Be Giants. The Cure. Spirit of the West. And for that which still gets played, throw in some Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against the Machine and System of a Down. And all of this brings me warm, fuzzy, and very blurry reminders of University and my vast experience at the Centre of the Universe (which sadly is now closed indefinitely).

The frightening thing is that, aside from the severe alcohol induced haze, I remember those fun filled, egotistical, crazy days like they were yesterday. Almost to the point I can touch them. And then the real truth of the matter hits me solid. The last of those days ended 13 years ago. I never thought such a long time would still have such a deep connection. I can only imagine the old folks had the same thoughts of the sixties as I do of the nineties. Funnily enough, I am the age they were then when they hit me with all their sixties remeniscing.

Now, many mistakes and a few good choices later, not much has changed. It is true that the more things change, the more they remain the same. The economics are sure the same. To put it bluntly, I did not choose an easy or stable career path. As such, the day job does one thing. Keeps me and Dawn alive. Period. But even the shitty one I have right now is slowly sinking me in debt. I’d never thought a job would put someone in debt, but alas, it seems to be the economics of the 21^st century. I need a change.

As it stands, the only thing that is currently feasible is the trades. Specifically, the electrical trades. Most importantly, the skills developed will be well put back into use in my true passion, film. Yayayaya!

Except one stumbling block. A $4,800 course just to be allowed to apprentice the trade. Fuck me running, nothing but a fucking cash grab. The thing that really bites is there are government agencies that help cover costs and do give applicants a jump start to getting a career going, but alas, they only help you if you’re unemployed, underemployed, have varied medical or other ’social’ problems, etc, etc, etc. Put simply, if you’re a honest, hardworking sort like me, fuck you, take your kick in the bollocks and do it with a greater financial burden. Ugghhh.

Still, as costs and the current market demand I make changes or becoming the working poor, I have no choice. No choice but to work, take on all comers, do school, get into this apprenticeship, and go to war doing it. But there’s something to be said of my past. Though most of my activities (scholarly or otherwise) do fuck all towards a liveable income in this town, I have to hold on to that ‘never say die’ attitude I had as a drunken, high rolling University student. Nothing else will be acceptable.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

P.S. Help my city grow.

Carrot chasing and other diversions

Sadly though, this one lasted well over a year. A good 15 months of being just over broke. Is it any wonder I haven’t been posting my typical lot of tripe on this blahg lately? It’s been more of a struggle maintaining my sanity through the carrot chase, notwithstanding maintaining my health.

The carrot chase really involves this. I get into my petrol consuming device, and in turn for the consumption, I get transported around the local area, pick up square-ish cardboard containers, return to the start point, and unload them. That, in a nutshell, is my ratrace, that allows myself, my lovely bride to be, Tara, and Shitbrick to have sustinance. And with the sheer physicality of it all, I thought that might wear me out soon.

However, it’s the politics of it all that really takes the fucking piss. Because the politics really is degenerating into a war. Put simply, this ‘hobby’ of carrot chasing for, well, carrots (yup it really don’t pay well), simply isn’t worth living in some hybridized Orwellian nightmare. So the decision is made. I’m going to chase a new carrot.

The question is where. After a week of ski, drink, sleep, repeat with the old man, I really got in touch with how much family is important. However, it was a stark reminder of the tragedy that got my ass in gear to get out here. And why. Film. As such, no more shit jobs, things that are completely irrelevant to that point. Sadly, the industry is still slow in these parts. Meh [blows raspberry].

There is one reasonable hope. Getting my electrical trades certification. Aside from providing well paid carrot chasing, the education actually does lead itself back to lighting in the film industry. And the frightening thing… Mom suggested it. Still though, even a lateral move might be just what the doctor ordered. The current state of bollocks that is my carrot chasing life is just that… a total fucking load of bollocks.

At one point I had hope. That one day I’d be holding the stick, not chasing the carrot. But at that time, I was suffering a severe brain malfunction. I forgot the Dilbert Priciple:

…companies tend to systematically promote their least-competent employees to management (generally middle management), in order to limit the amount of damage they’re capable of doing.

And for that reason alone, someone skilled like me could NEVER get ahead in the standardized world of corporate America. I’m not in harms way because I’m not the one causing the harm. Meh again [raspberry again]. For someone skilled like me to run the show, I have to create the show (just as a hint as to where I’m ultimately going).

Twisted Filler Tuesday to return tomorrow.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferreus six.

P.S. Help my city grow and build it’s industry.