WHY I'M BEGRUDGINGLY VOTING CONSERVATIVE...

So. May 2nd is less than a week away. This means that fairly soon, hundreds of thousands of Canadians will be filling their local schools or community centers, and they will be casting their votes on who should run this great Country of Canada. Democracy. I constantly ponder the lottery-like process that is where people are born, and I'm so thankful to live in Canada - a land that is mostly peaceful, and mostly free. Over the years, my pride in being a Canadian has seen fairly substantial heights, and more recently some pretty mediocre lows. This long-standing minority government has caused so much grief in Canada's political process, and it certainly hasn't helped that the void of a leader worth following has remained empty throughout this period.

It's a shame that Paul Martin inherited a broken Liberal party. Essentially the man behind the curtains for Chretien's leadership over ten years, with a majority he would have proven to be an incredible Prime Minister. Instead, the sponsorship scandal put an end to his chances, as well as to the Liberal party as we once knew it. After his minority government were overthrown, I personally found great resonance with Stephen Harper and the merged PC/Alliance party. He seemed like a leader who could work within a minority structure, possibly prove himself worthy of a majority, and had presented a platform of policies of which I held the same opinion. It seemed like a good place to put my vote at the time. Well. That certainly didn't last long. Arrogance. Entitlement-syndrome. Outright lying. Perhaps his actions have been the result of grinding it out through a minority rule, but one thing is clear - this man is not a trustworthy leader, and will never have a majority government. Sufficed to say I haven't cast my vote in his direction since that first time around.

It should be made clear, that I approach every election with a mostly 'clean-slate' frame of mind. I survey each party platform, analyze the potential for the party leader to get things done, and watch how they present the issues and debate them amongst each other. From that, I decide where my vote will land. With this in mind, the Harper government would never get my vote, this time around the Liberal party will definitely not get my vote - Ignatieff is really coming off as an imbecile this time around (poor handlers? also Layton uncovered a glaring inadequacy in Ignatieff's attendance) - as well the Green party will not get my vote. If I were to base my vote on what I've surveyed, and safe in the knowledge of a minority rule regardless of which party wins, I would vote NDP. Yes, I know, they would seem the equivalent of putting a two year-old behind the wheel of a car, a party who would spend our Country into the ashes, and burn many bridges along the way. Perhaps. Perhaps not. We'll never know, as I don't suspect Layton will ever rise above his current level of support. He did however prove to be the greatest leader amongst the debates, and knowing that a minority rule would keep their policies in check, that is who I would vote for this time around the dance floor.

So why am I not voting NDP? Well, this is where it gets real. Real stupid that is. Our electoral system is retarded. Yes. Retarded. If anyone understands how our democracy is SUPPOSED to work, they would understand that it is supposed to be about your local riding. You vote for who you think would best represent your riding, and whatever party they're from would end up being represented with more seats to make decisions at a national level. Our system has been perverted though from it's rightful process, the result of voter ignorance, staunch life-time single party supporters, and from the leaders of local ridings doing absolutely jack-all to campaign. Instead, they hide behind their party colours, and rely almost completely on their party leader to garner votes in their ridings. The general voting public, having a low democratic IQ, gladly dance to this tune. This has a way of forcing the intelligent voter into a corner, as their local riding may have a worthy leader from a party that they normally wouldn't support. By casting their vote on the person they think best represents them locally, they lose their voice for who should represent them as a Country. This has to change. This has to change soon. Proportional Representation would go a long way to solving this issue, and to me, should be the biggest issue being discussed as a nation. Electoral reform. Sadly, we can only hope for this, as the problem again is informing the public to understand what they would be buying. Ontario failed to reform because voters had no idea what this version of voting entailed. Political IQ. The average voter just doesn't care enough to become self-informed, and the government just sucks at getting the right messages out. Sure, Harper can successfully paint Ignatieff as a Canada-hating wannabe American, but actually get out a good and honest message? Fail.

So, begrudgingly, I find myself at a crossroad. My riding of Burlington has a Conservative candidate - Mike Wallace - who has done a fantastic job representing our city on the national level, and is the ONLY candidate that actually took the time to go door-to-door, actually putting in real face time - in my neighborhood at least. He's also the only candidate that has ad-mailed anything of real value, clearly outlining himself and his accomplishments. Every other candidate has been completely non-existent, with the exception of annoying phone-calls from the local Liberal candidate's office. So with the proper ideal of local representation in my heart, begrudgingly, I'm voting Conservative. If we had Proportional Representation, then I could vote locally for Mike Wallace, and then cast a Vote for Layton. My voice made clear, my votes completely put to good use. Instead, I'm supporting a party that I don't support. Crazy times.

LIFE EXPERIENCED...

"My own eyes are not enough for me; I will see through those of others." ~ C.S. Lewis

I wonder what this photographer was thinking when he took this picture. In the rain. In the darkness of night. Did he see what I'm seeing? Was his emotional response the same as mine? I think this picture is spectacular. The symmetry. The reflected light in the water-glazed cement. The darkness and dreariness of the atmosphere - defeated by the chorus of lights unfazed by the elements. The umbrella-covered and hooded bystanders whose gazes are fixed upon these giants, a sense of wonder that must surely exist in their eyes (I mean, why else would they be in the pouring rain). There is so much that I'm capable of seeing, and yet exponentially more that I am not.

The human soul - the human experience - just like a fingerprint, are each remarkably different. Everyone, in their own regard, the lead actors in the movie of their lives. What are your favorite movies? Personally, my favorites are the ones with a rich ensemble cast. The lead actor will always be the lead, but great movies separate themselves from the good, and the poor, by way of a cast made up of strong support: characters that in many ways rival the emotional investment that we generally reserve for the lead. In life, I've also found that this equally takes the top spot in terms of enjoyment. I love people. I love their stories. Like an incredible novel, I love the way that they intertwine with the story of my own life, changing mine forever. It's an eye-opening experience when you come to realize that everyone has built years of memories and experiences that are not your own. They have seen the world and events and experiences through filters that are not your own. When they look at this picture above, their thoughts and emotions will vary so greatly that it could take a lifetime to assess each and every one of them. It excites me to hear what they think. It excites me to gain perspective on what drives thoughts and opinions - where it comes from and how it's applied. Perhaps this comes from my love of books. The rich tapestry that the author weaves together: love, friendships, suffering, trials, triumph, heroics and villainy. Just like in any novel, I always place the majority of myself in the main character, but it never ends there. With so many characters, and each brought alive in my own imagination, naturally it's just as exciting to see through the other characters as well, feeling what they feel, and seeing how they see. Likewise, in life, there is so much more to be seen apart from what we personally interpret. My own eyes are not enough for me. There isn't much that brings me greater joy than spending time with some friends, a glass of full-bodied Merlot at the ready, and listening to the stories of their life - seeing through their eyes. Hurting with them in their hurt, happy with them in their happiness, experiencing more than I can ever experience alone in this life. Real intimacy. The only thing greater, perhaps, would be if it were a glass of Delamain XO instead in my hand.

I think in many ways, this is the great scale by which I see maturity as an actual character assessment: how people look to marry their independence of thought with that of others. The maturity in understanding each other, learning from each other, opening up to each other, and creating real intimacy. I can't imagine how lonely it would be to never see beyond one's own self - to never open up the doors of understanding and invite in all of the incredible life experiences that others have found.Yes - you let the bad in along with the good, but there is so much to be learned from each, and how can you ever appreciate the good without having the bad as a reference point. A plain example would be in my young role as a parent. Saying that there are bitterly difficult times is an understatement, but with that said, it makes the good times taste so much sweeter. So very, very much sweeter.

Final Confession: I'm an intimacy junkie. Nothing is more exciting to me than peeling back the layers of a person's outer shell and getting to know their story and their true self. I hate the first meeting of a new friend, and the stage between the first meeting and peeling back that first layer. I hate it because I'm an intimacy junkie. I hate it because I want to turn that next page and really start to see through their eyes. I think this is part of why I love The Well Church so much. Never have I found a place where those layers get ripped away more quickly, and deeper relationship formed without a vast amount of awkwardness. It's really amazing.

FOR MY LOVE...

"True love is a durable fire, in the mind ever burning, never sick, never old, never dead, from itself never turning." ~ Sir Walter Raleigh

For over one third of my life on this earth, I have loved Lindsay Lee Atkins... A powerful statement? Sure. But it's not enough. Words are great sometimes, they're the great translators of all that we think. In this case though, that sentence doesn't come close to translating the depth behind such simple words. To say that you love something, can carry a variety of meanings. I love my dog... I love my tuna sandwich... I love my house... The definition of what that emotion entails is a true sliding scale in terms of that to which we apply it. When I say I love my wife, it's not at all the same as when I say I love that the QEW now has HOV lanes (which I most certainly do love). No. The depth is all out of sorts. When I say that I have loved my Lindsay Lee for ten years, well... I have ached to be in her presence when she's absent from it, I have felt joy with her that transcends what science is capable of quantifying, my soul feels completely bare before her eyes, intimacy at it's deepest core, my heart literally skipping beats as I recall the wonderful things we have experienced together and envisioning that which lies ahead of us, feeling totally complete, and completely at peace in her arms... I love my Lindsay Lee.

The most amazing thing that occurs to me when I dwell upon this love I've had for Lindsay over this time, would have to be how it has ever-changed, growing and changing shape each day. It's subtle mostly, like a baby's growth from birth and onward. One day you look back at it, and you're completely stunned at how much bigger, how much greater it has become. I feel constantly reminded these days that as much as I love Lindsay today, I will love her even more tomorrow. Moments in life can cause that love to leap forward in a tangible way - that first kiss, proposing, getting married, having a child together - but everyday it grows when nurtured and remembered. I will love her more tomorrow. Wow. Incredible.

Last Friday, we marked our fifth anniversary of being husband and wife. Being the sap that I am, I've obviously taken the occasion to dwell on these thoughts. I think it's good to do so. It's good to remember our love. Remember what it means. Remember to tell our wives and husbands just exactly what it means. To tell them that when we say we love them, it means something so much more than a single word can ever express. I love a good tuna sandwich, sure. That said, I would trade in all the riches, and the wisdoms, and the pleasures of our world, all that I hold of value in my life, simply to be able to hold the hand of the girl I love. The same certainly can not be said for the sandwich. So to memorialize this occasion, and to put into words for my Lindsay Lee to see for eternity, I love you with all that I have said, and ohhhh so much more than I will ever have the vocabulary to say. This post is for you. This post is for my love.

HAMMERS, CROWBARS, AND TESTOSTERONE...

What do you get when you cross a freshly purchased house, with a group of well-seasoned builders, and a vision for the future? ... Anyone? ... Bueller? ... Community. Yup. You get community. I know, you were hoping for something witty, a punch-line of sorts. Instead I give you a cryptic one word answer. Deal with it. :-)

You get community, in all of the true sense of the word: "A unified body of individuals." On the surface, this particular definition may seem rather bland. Invocations of a greater meaning left solely to the imagination. But therein lies the rub, as many examples of the power which a large and well organized community wields can, and have, been seen over and over again throughout history. The current civil uprising occurring at this very moment across the Middle East, a perfect example of the power which a unified body of individuals can possess when focused on a specific task or goal.

Certainly this picture of a boy, overlooking the sea of Egyptians unified in peaceful protest, produces a vastly greater sense of the definition for community. Such is the nature of these things I suppose, but there you have it. A powerful force of people united with purpose. Of course there can then be good community, and bad community, but that's a topic for another post altogether.

This past Saturday bore witness to a special kind of community that I had the pleasure of sharing. A friend of mine, the same friend who I mentioned in the previous post, had a little 'sweet' thrown into his week of 'bitter' with the closing of a new house for his family. He and his wife searched long and hard for a place that they could call home, having a check list and a vision - a criteria by which their new home needed to satisfy. As most houses do not come spec'ed to the precise vision of our mind's eye, they viewed this house with an imagination of what it could be - which let's be honest, is more than half of the fun and adrenaline to be had while looking for a house with which to make a home. More than that, it provides the blueprint, the road map, the compass point directing where to go once acquiring said house. With all that in hand, the only thing that remains is to "do".

As anyone who has been involved in home renos, you all know that a massive amount of money is to be saved in doing the demolition portion yourself. With this in mind, my friend threw out the call to his friends to pick up a hammer, and join him in smashing the living hell out of his newly purchased property. Now I'm not sure what gene dictates the pleasure to be found in men with breaking things, but on some basic level we quite simply love it. Therapeutic? Yes. Dirty? Oh yeah. Accomplishment? You bet. I said yes without any hesitation. I confess that I wasn't sure what the turnout would be like though, and had expected maybe four or five guys having at it. Wow. Was I wrong. One by one, men with tools and purpose entered stage left, and within an hour of arriving, upwards of fifteen guys were swinging hammers... gripping crowbars... sweating testosterone. It was, simply put, glorious. Every now and then, just looking through the house, it was really cool to just see the amazing amount of work being joyfully carried out. Walls coming down. Floors and foundations being torn to their core. A big... fat... dusty mess. A mess created by a group of individuals unified as one body. Glorious. Friendships were made, laughs and new memories shared, the cuts and bruises of a job well done to be seen on the hands of all who worked together that day. Community. It was a pretty cool thing to see. The reality that none of it would have happened if none had raised their hammer was not lost on me.

Final Confession: I'm learning the obvious truth in life that if you want to build something at all resembling a vision for the future, you have to lift your hammer. The experience from Saturday further punctuated that such building is far more fun, and made far easier, when accomplished with others by your side - their hammers raised also for the same vision.

TRAGEDY...

"It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style." ~ Oscar Wilde

It's an odd topic to break-in the new overhaul of my personal online website. I know. But it's currently the topic of my personal considerations, and thus the only piece of relevant discourse I have to offer: Tragedy. I have to imagine that almost every one of my peers and elders have by now experienced this profound and heart-wrenching circumstance at one point, or sadly at many points. For any man or woman who has chosen to love someone or something else apart from themselves, then it is an inescapable fact of life: tragedy will occur, and you will feel it deeply, painfully. A tragedy is not simply something sad that happens to someone, it's much deeper in it's scope then that. I'll leave the table of definitions to be set by this link to wikipedia - sufficed to say that the sorrow felt by a tragedy is infinitely worse than that of just a sad event in life.

This week, I've witnessed tragedy in both the massive (the earthquake in Christ Church, NZ), and also in the singular (the death of my friend's brother in law). It's created a very somber atmosphere within the hallways of my thoughts, recalling the pains of the two real tragedies that have occurred directly within my own reach of those I've loved. As Oscar Wilde so rightfully puts it, the entire lack of style, the crudeness, and want of meaning when faced with tragedy, is what places us into such a tailspin of emotions. The closer to home it hits, the harder the blow.

My heart has been mourning with my friend and his family, both immediate and extended, over the death of Robert Hall this week. A father, a husband, a man and missionary inspired to do great things in the name of his creator - violently ripped apart from this world by a freak accident while helping to build at a college in Kitwe, Zambia. If you read the article linked to his name, the image held by imagining the event is too much to bear.

Life is fragile. Yes. This we know, regardless of how little we may consider it daily. Questions of why abound, while answers are simply not there regardless of faith. Even within the Christian context, we know that the rain falls on both the wicked and the honest. A Christian would simply be apt to acknowledge that in our sinfulness, our deed to perfection is lost, and every living creature made fair game to the dangers of the world. There is little to satisfy the painful sorrow and confusion left by a sudden act of such tragedy. Time. Love. Healing. These are the only things that help, with the recovery time different for all.

This Sunday at the church which I call home, The Well, the family of Robert Hall is going to be there, and I'm certain it will be a service unlike any I've ever been to. My suspicions are that the service is gonna be pretty powerful. I'll be playing the bass with the band, and knowing the musical caliber of these guys, it's gonna be intense. As well with my friend's Dad preaching, the combination seem to be the right ingredients for something special. If any of you know me, then you know I don't preach, I don't push my beliefs an ounce past the tip of my nose, so you know that none of this is about any of that. I bring all this up instead to suggest that if any of you have ever wondered what I believe, I suspect this would be that moment by which you could gain some insight. Please feel free to come, the address is HERE.

That's all. A heavy post, from a heavy heart. Confession concluded.

ERM...

Wow, a whole freakin' year since I last posted here. Craziness. I'm thinking of putting a little TLC back into this page. We'll see if that happens, lol.

END OF AN ERA...

I'm a little peeved this morning. I checked my email to learn that the comment handler I've been using since I started this blog MANY years ago, "Haloscan", is pulling their free handling option and forcing users to choose a new paid option or be "s.o.l.". They cite an aging method with Haloscan, and the inability to continue supporting it, as their reason for making this move. Translation: "We've made a new style of comment handling that we don't want to offer for free, and we don't want to bother providing service for our current free handler... why? because we're giant d-bags."

It wouldn't bother me as much if it weren't for the fact that the comment format they use is incompatible with other handlers' methods. I've exported my comments, but now they're stuck in xml format that apparently can be manually altered to work with other handlers but is very time consuming. Thus my old comments will forever be stored in this xml database, collecting cyber-dust for all of eternity... so to speak. The other bothersome part is that I loved Haloscan's customization options, something that very few comment handlers provide, and all of the new handlers are sporting this new google wave-esque style of commenting that just does suit my purposes at all.

Anyways, that's my rant. It's not as though I'm a constant blogger anymore, but it's still frustrating. That is all.

IPHONE WALLPAPER EXPERIMENT...

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I'm heading to the F1 races in Montreal this summer, and I've created these snazzy wallpapers for my iPhone to commemorate the event. The only difference is the font colour. Anywho... that's all. Peace.

YEAH, ABOUT BLOGGING...

Soooooo... long time no blog. The truth is that in today's social networking age, there are simply so many other ways to vent ones inner thoughts. Mediums like facebook and twitter offer a quick outlet that sometimes makes posting a blog seem tedious and long-winded. That being said, I still consider my blog to be the best way to share more in-depth of what's on my mind. Really isn't much though, is there, lol.

LAST DANCE WITH MARY JANE...

Yesterday started much like any ordinary morning, only this particular morning found us in a hotel room in Geneva... so I guess it wasn't very ordinary at all. :-) With our bags mostly packed, there was only one conceivable thing left to do: go out and buy more Swiss chocolate and tacky souvenirs... what? that's not what you'd have conceived? We had a fistful of Swiss Francs left that were pretty useless, so I spent them in a shopping area connected to their major train and street car station near our hotel. It's also where I spent an hour trying park the other day. After loading up on chocolate and a few interesting souvenirs, I grabbed the car and brought it over to the hotel. Getting out was clearly much easier, as I actually knew where I was going at that point, lol. Oh man, I'll never forget that wasted hour, lol.

After packing up the car for one last time, we began the final journey back to Paris. The drive was nice, relatively uneventful, and the traffic in Paris wasn't anything to complain about. It was an odd drive though. As to be expected, the atmosphere was one of mixed emotions. As we drove nearer to Paris, the landscape almost immediately turned back into the green sloping hillsides, with old castles here and there, and that rural cottage-esque feel that I had missed so dearly from our beginning travels. It felt like we belonged, as though we had lived here all our lives, and we were just coming home after a long journey. It also felt like the ending of an incredible book - you know? Like the last page of a book that you just don't want to end? It was exactly the same emotion. At the same time, knowing that this was the final call, we grew even more excited to get back home to our friends and family, and our dog Moses, but also sadder at the notion of leaving this beatiful and exciting part of the world. So yeah, mixed emotions.

We stopped for a quick lunch to let us keep moving, and managed to arrive in Paris around 2:30pm-ish. Our to-do list was relatively short. We first had to check-in to our hotel and clean out the car, and then I drove the car over to the offices where we had received it (which was about a ten minute walk from the hotel, I'd planned it that way). It was a really sad experience that was thankfully quick and easy, I've grown to love that car soooo much. It got us through some crazy driving experiences, and never failed us once. It makes me sad that they don't sell Peugeot's here in North America. I chatted with the lovely secretary there in a mix of French and English until the guy came out to check the car and have me sign some forms. As I had expected, not a scratch or damage found. I was out in no time, and found my way back to the hotel pretty easily.

Once back at the hotel, I had some trouble getting up to my room, lol. First of all, I should explain that this hotel was a four star hotel incomparable to any we've stayed at thus far. It's luxurious to the nines. In my haste I had forgotton my room number, so I had to awkwardly go over to the concierge and mention my dilemma. He laughed. Then he gave me the number. I went over to the elevator to go to my floor, and pushed the button... ... nothing... so I pushed again... ummm... nothing happened still... that's when I realized that this place has special keycards that get you access to everything, and Lindsay had ours with her up in our room. So, once again, I made the walk of shame to the concierge, who almost seemed to know that I'd have to come back... bastard guy, lol. He handed me a new keycard and I was off.

In... wait for it... ... ... ... ... credible. The room was beautiful! The bed was the most comfortable I've ever laid or slept in, the bathroom was huge and had a shower and a separate bathtub, and our view was pretty decent overlooking modern Paris in La Defense. We got settled, grabbed our cigars and camera's, and went out for our last night on the town. We played it really loose, and figured really on just going down to the Tuillerie Gardens to see how they looked now closer to Spring (not to mention our first time there it was raining), and then to go to dinner near the Eiffel Tower, ending the night with a cigar while overlooking the Tower from below.

The gardens still weren't blooming, but you could see life on it's way for sure, and I can only imagine what it would have looked like. There were, however, alot of people there. It's plain to see that tourist season is now in full swing. We then strolled up the Champs once more to see the Arch D'Triomphe, as it seemed like the right thing to do. We just tried to take it all in, attempting to sear it all in our memories. I quickly remembered how much I love Paris, it's such a fascinating and beautiful place. After enjoying the Arch, we grabbed the subway over to the Eiffel Tower. We decided to have dinner again at the same italian restaurant we ate at the first time we went to the Tower. It was a nice meal the first time, and we had wanted to try their pizza if we ever went back. So try we did! Amazing, incredible pizza. Better than any pizza we had when we were actually in Italy.

After dinner, we strolled peacefully through the many African dudes trying to sell their crappy tourist crap, and over to the Eiffel Tower. I think it's the most beautiful at nightime. The steel structure looks less like steel in the dark, and is brilliantly light up, also feature a wicked awesome strobe light show with thousands of strobe lights that flash for about five minutes every hour. It's really incredible to watch - though epileptics may consider averting their eyes... I'm jus' sayin'... might be a good idea. We found a nice bench that took in the whole Tower, and smoked our cigars in relative peace - despite some a--hole French police who hassled Lindsay for no good reason. You can ask Lindsay, I was about to get up in their face had they not left us when they did. Didn't speak english my ass, they were jerks. Anyways, it didn't bother us once they left. All in all, a nice night.

We made it back to the hotel and put the finishing touches on our masterful packing job, lol we're just glad nothing broke in our suitcases on the flight back, phew. After packing, we turned in and had the most fantastic sleeps of the trip, and I'm pretty sure my whole life, lol. It was so comfy. I never wanted to leave that bed, lol. This morning was pretty calm, which is what I was hoping for. With no scrambling left to do, we simply went down for the breakfast included. Holy crap, was this hotel amazing. The breakfasts that we've had so far have been lame. This breakfast was fit for royalty. They had eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, breads, cheeses, EVERYTHING! and it was ALL incredible tasting. We were so sad though because we didn't want to stuff up and have stomach aches on the plane ride. So we were forced to eat reasonably, which sucked lol.

After breakfast, our hotel called our cabbie, and that was it. The end arrived at approximately 9am, on this day Saturday the 28th of March. The cab ride was short, and we found ourselves at the airport with a decent amount of time to spare... which was lucky, because it took us over and hour to get through the security gate! The line was massive, and we experienced our first true dose of the rude Frenchman. They were cutting into line left right and centre, pissing off countless travellers. It was really a shame. Anywho, we made it through without worrying, and had a relatively nice flight back. The turbulence was minimal, and I managed to watch a bunch more great movies. It was great to see my mom and dad at the airport to pick us up, I even teared up a bit for no apparent reason. It made me laugh. We picked up our little buddy Moses who was living with Lindsay's family for the past month, and he was so stoked to see us. The feeling was mutual. Now we're home, mostly settled in, and life has seemingly returned to the way it was. The trip was unforgettable, and I'm so happy to have had shared the experiences with the person I love the most in this whole world (aka Lindsay). And with that, I leave this link to a few more picture of our last day, as well this appropriate picture of Moses I just took to show how happy he is to be back home. Cheers!