Announcement (22 Oct. 2013):
I will be entering an unknown period of silence on the internet to upgrade my computer for the first time since I purchased it in 2010, when it was already the older model. I have a 2009 15" MacBook Pro i5 8GB, and with the release of OSX Mavericks for free, I am taking this opportunity to hopefully fix the shitty performance of this fine machine.
Until then, no new journal entries live (I will post them once my computer is sorted out under the appropriate date), only photos of the day until October 31st, at which I may enter total silence.
The thing I am looking forward to most in this is simply a faster, and nicer working environment. OSX 10.6.8 is getting old and clunky, and I have a feeling Apple just wants to stop having to support the wide range of older operating systems still being used by the masses, and I'll certainly answer to the call. Tabbed Finder? Absolutely. Why hasn't anyone else done this yet? No one knows. Tags within a file system? No hesitation.
Anyways, I'll be posting some time in the next few weeks once my computer is all sorted out. Thank you for those who bother reading any of this.
Colin J. S.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Photo of the Day: 22/10/13
Mt. Cheam, Chilliwack, British Columbia
This photo was taken from Chilliwack Airport in November of 2012, the first time I ever went out in a small aircraft. One of the best moments of my life, I hope to do it again some time.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Photo of the Day: 21/10/13
City of Langley, British Columbia, Canada
Taken a year ago, this shot is of downtown Langley, taken from a friend's plane. Taken with a Canon T2i.
Dr. Pepper and Cotransport Nightmares
Today, I am writing my first midterm for Biology 1110. I predict that the outcome of this exam will be less than optimal, possibly dismal. Resistance is futile. Prepare to be assimilated.
My problem is that I hate studying. Even when I am studying, I don't remember anything because I'm not enjoying myself. I figured out why while I was writing an English in-class assessment essay on the first day of English 1100. I won't type out the entire essay, it's long and boring, and earned me a 5/5. I'll summarize it as best I can, however:
Essentially, while writing this essay, the bad side and good side of my ADHD came out: I realized that due to my ADHD, I couldn't focus on anything that didn't truly grasp my interest. I have never cared about biology. I never will. However, as soon as he mentioned enzyme inhibiting nerve agents, I had to research it, because the history of chemical weapons is something that fascinates (as well as horrifies) me. I have started developing a technique to make everything interesting in some way. How did I really realize all this?
Last year, in geography, which is by far the best high school course, I always had my tablet out. I would Wikipedia everything Mr. C would say. Everything. With that, I earned my 98% in the class, because I enjoyed reading it, and I went more into depth. Even though I didn't remember the deeper details of the whole thing, I would more readily be able to recall the simpler parts. Basically, if I'm not interested, I will never revisit it.
So, today, I'm sitting her in the last few hours before a midterm exam starring at my textbook and Wikipedia-ing everything I don't care about and finding something that I do care about. If you have ADHD, try it.
I have a slight and sinking feeling that I'm going to fail this test. If I do, then so be it. I learn more on tests than studying, I learned that in physics last year. If only re-tests were a reality in university.
Tomorrow I have my last midterm of the first half of semester. That would be wonderful; however, second-half midterms begin next week. University, for the first month says sweetly, "Don't worry, child, quizzes are few and far between" but fails to mention that once midterms start they don't end until about three weeks before finals. Then finals begin, and everything goes to hell and people start drinking too much coffee.
Time to change topic: Marijuana.
Pot. Cannabis. I don't care what you call it, it's gross. For some reason, for English we have to find (and cite in MLA format) ten articles about marijuana that don't have the words drug, pot, marijuana, cannabis, prescription or medicine in the title. I think that's impossible, personally. Not going to happen. But, of course, Joel has made it worth five percent of our overall grade in the course. I need a B to be honourably discharged from the English course next semester, so I can't give it up.
In response to what happened this morning on the test, I utterly failed. There is no way in hell I passed. On the other hand, I am becoming more and more confident in calculus. Maybe I'll become a calculus major and teach calculus to people who will go on to teach calculus.
My problem is that I hate studying. Even when I am studying, I don't remember anything because I'm not enjoying myself. I figured out why while I was writing an English in-class assessment essay on the first day of English 1100. I won't type out the entire essay, it's long and boring, and earned me a 5/5. I'll summarize it as best I can, however:
Essentially, while writing this essay, the bad side and good side of my ADHD came out: I realized that due to my ADHD, I couldn't focus on anything that didn't truly grasp my interest. I have never cared about biology. I never will. However, as soon as he mentioned enzyme inhibiting nerve agents, I had to research it, because the history of chemical weapons is something that fascinates (as well as horrifies) me. I have started developing a technique to make everything interesting in some way. How did I really realize all this?
Last year, in geography, which is by far the best high school course, I always had my tablet out. I would Wikipedia everything Mr. C would say. Everything. With that, I earned my 98% in the class, because I enjoyed reading it, and I went more into depth. Even though I didn't remember the deeper details of the whole thing, I would more readily be able to recall the simpler parts. Basically, if I'm not interested, I will never revisit it.
So, today, I'm sitting her in the last few hours before a midterm exam starring at my textbook and Wikipedia-ing everything I don't care about and finding something that I do care about. If you have ADHD, try it.
I have a slight and sinking feeling that I'm going to fail this test. If I do, then so be it. I learn more on tests than studying, I learned that in physics last year. If only re-tests were a reality in university.
Tomorrow I have my last midterm of the first half of semester. That would be wonderful; however, second-half midterms begin next week. University, for the first month says sweetly, "Don't worry, child, quizzes are few and far between" but fails to mention that once midterms start they don't end until about three weeks before finals. Then finals begin, and everything goes to hell and people start drinking too much coffee.
Time to change topic: Marijuana.
Pot. Cannabis. I don't care what you call it, it's gross. For some reason, for English we have to find (and cite in MLA format) ten articles about marijuana that don't have the words drug, pot, marijuana, cannabis, prescription or medicine in the title. I think that's impossible, personally. Not going to happen. But, of course, Joel has made it worth five percent of our overall grade in the course. I need a B to be honourably discharged from the English course next semester, so I can't give it up.
In response to what happened this morning on the test, I utterly failed. There is no way in hell I passed. On the other hand, I am becoming more and more confident in calculus. Maybe I'll become a calculus major and teach calculus to people who will go on to teach calculus.
Friday, October 18, 2013
A Bad Case of Nostalgia
Today I went for a hike up Mt. Dufferin in Kenna Cartwright Park, just beside the university. I’ve never hiked the trail I hiked today. The friend who I hoped would join me ditched and went home to Chase for the weekend, but that was her family’s choice. Can’t hold that against her.
In the end, I’m glad I went alone. The entire way I was engulfed in aromas, sounds and senses that threw me back, sometimes more than ten years. Walking along the trails, I crushed up some Big Sage and Partridge Foot to remind myself of the first days helping my dad build out cabin in Eastgate, and crushed up Pine Needles to remind myself of travelling to Fort Steel and Christina Lake.
The biggest one, though, was the frost on the ground. Kamloops is starting to get cold, I’m expecting snow early next month if not sooner. This morning was the first morning of frost on campus. Hiking at four o’clock, I came around a bend to see the ground caked in ice and frost. I just stopped and thought a minute. What did it remind me of?
Kamloops, being in a different climate than Langley (my hometown), feels colder earlier. I was having a sort of “flashback” of something but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was some time around January I think - late january. Myself and my girlfriend, who lived outside of Fort Langley, would walk the four-kilometres into town every time I visited. That time, we chose to walk to the old ferry terminal across the island that was replaced by a giant toll bridge only a few years before. The terminal is (and was already at that time) in great disrepair.
The sun was setting when we were out there and the sky became a brilliant pink. The photo still has a special meaning to me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the brisk air, the smell of trees and the quiet putter of the city in the background. Today I experienced that again and realized that I will never have that feeling in that situation, no matter how much I want to, ever again. That hit me hard. I realized that being in university, now being in charge of most of my own life, a door has closed on that part of my life, I can only look back on it now, not relive it as it was.
Friday, September 6, 2013
Today my life was made better.
So of course I play piano. After playing some pretty awesome frisbee with 5 other people I went to the outdoor piano. This thing is out of tune and 23 keys on it don’t even work (luckily really high and really low so they aren’t vital). Anyways, I start playing the piano, and the first person who comes up to me is the videographer who is supposed to be making a video of the barbecue and the big concert going on, but instead he films me for about 10 minutes. A bunch of people were already stopped and listening, which made me very awkward and I stopped, but this guy came up to me and told me to pretend no one is listening and just play… so I did. A girl came up to me and asked if I taught piano by any chance, and I told her, sorry, I don’t, but I learned everything by ear. For some that doesn’t work. Good luck with piano. So she thanked me and listened for a while and left, and another guy came up and asked if I gave lessons. Then I finished playing Pirates of the Caribbean (which was requested like 4 times) and this girl who had been sitting on the field working stood up, walked over to me, and handed me a sketch of myself playing piano. She said I was really amazing and that I should play the grand piano in the CAC (the recreation and bookstore building). So I thanked her, then a guy from the campus newspaper and radio station comes over and stats taking a bazillion photos and asking me about my piano playing and what I think of a piano outside for anyone to play, and of course I said it was possibly the most awesome thing ever but they might want to put it inside for the night because it isn’t looking too happy. Then all my friends came over and sang along to some Queen songs and then they all left for shopping… so I left. Yeah, today was pretty wonderful. I’ve never had people listen to my piano playing before like that.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Glorious Education
I achieved absolutely awful grades this year in school, which is fortunate only because the program into which I am entering requires only good grades in grade 11 and grade 12 just helps. Here’s the curious part:
Both Earth Sciences (11, but I never took it before) and Geography 12 were my highest grades. Those classes were based off of visual learning, presentation-based and project-based marking, and I got 95.6% in the two classes, respectively.
On the other hand, my chemistry exam came rolling it at 56%, dropping my mark from a high B to a high C+. Interestingly, my average lab score in chemistry was 89.1%, and my average worksheet mark was 87%. My average test mark was 68%.
Finally, in physics, which I had to practically teach myself due to the differences between the way my teacher taught and the way that I learn, I may actually fail - the first time ever. However, once again, I achieved an average of 84% on lab work, with an average of 60% on the tests. What is wrong with the education system?
Essentially, I think I’ve figured it out: They believe that it is more important for us to be capable of memorization than it is for us to compute information. How many doctors offices have you been into where there aren’t so many binders of information that you could spend a year trying to read them? None. That is because in real life, you have to know the basics, but be able to understand and use the higher level information.
The best example of this is History 12, which requires you to memorize dates, names, places and events, when truly, history should be a class focused around being able to decide what caused these things to happen and how they affect us. The strongest argument to this statement is, obviously, that I achieved top mark and probably second top mark in the two classes that require little logic and primarily memorization.
I will rebut that argument before it is declared by saying that the marks in those classes were drawn from our capability to present the information we had learned, find new information ourselves (I will touch on this in a moment) and use it to our benefit. For instance, in geography, I managed to create a presentation rather than a final exam that got me 100%. Why? I had the usually-bored and sleeping class asking questions, saying “whoa, I never knew that!” The same happened in Earth Sciences, where I achieved 97% for the fact that I had done a considerable amount of research and had put thought into it.
If I were a history teacher, and I am a history tutor currently, I would probably fail everyone. This is because students are bent on memorizing information out of a textbook. I couldn’t care less what date the Pearl Harbour Attack occurred on (although it wouldn’t hurt), but understanding how a sneak attack that was poorly planned eventually lead to the absolute defeat of the Japanese empire would be crucial, and I don’t see that in a single one of the four students that I know in history.
Essentially, as we leave high school and attempt to flail our way out into the big old world, the only rank we have is that of our capacity to memorize information. No one cares that I can write research essays or do killer presentations that actually keep stoned teenagers interested. I’m sure they do, but they assume that is related to the percentage on the piece of paper from the ministry of education. I’d say that that number is about 40% accurate, showing only accurate numbers from the teachers and courses who mark and are marked correctly.
In the end, I really don’t think anyone cares if I can remember when exactly the Soviet détente occured, but would probably care what it was and why it affected the world.
And for those of you who bothered reading this, comment “Pie.”
Both Earth Sciences (11, but I never took it before) and Geography 12 were my highest grades. Those classes were based off of visual learning, presentation-based and project-based marking, and I got 95.6% in the two classes, respectively.
On the other hand, my chemistry exam came rolling it at 56%, dropping my mark from a high B to a high C+. Interestingly, my average lab score in chemistry was 89.1%, and my average worksheet mark was 87%. My average test mark was 68%.
Finally, in physics, which I had to practically teach myself due to the differences between the way my teacher taught and the way that I learn, I may actually fail - the first time ever. However, once again, I achieved an average of 84% on lab work, with an average of 60% on the tests. What is wrong with the education system?
Essentially, I think I’ve figured it out: They believe that it is more important for us to be capable of memorization than it is for us to compute information. How many doctors offices have you been into where there aren’t so many binders of information that you could spend a year trying to read them? None. That is because in real life, you have to know the basics, but be able to understand and use the higher level information.
The best example of this is History 12, which requires you to memorize dates, names, places and events, when truly, history should be a class focused around being able to decide what caused these things to happen and how they affect us. The strongest argument to this statement is, obviously, that I achieved top mark and probably second top mark in the two classes that require little logic and primarily memorization.
I will rebut that argument before it is declared by saying that the marks in those classes were drawn from our capability to present the information we had learned, find new information ourselves (I will touch on this in a moment) and use it to our benefit. For instance, in geography, I managed to create a presentation rather than a final exam that got me 100%. Why? I had the usually-bored and sleeping class asking questions, saying “whoa, I never knew that!” The same happened in Earth Sciences, where I achieved 97% for the fact that I had done a considerable amount of research and had put thought into it.
If I were a history teacher, and I am a history tutor currently, I would probably fail everyone. This is because students are bent on memorizing information out of a textbook. I couldn’t care less what date the Pearl Harbour Attack occurred on (although it wouldn’t hurt), but understanding how a sneak attack that was poorly planned eventually lead to the absolute defeat of the Japanese empire would be crucial, and I don’t see that in a single one of the four students that I know in history.
Essentially, as we leave high school and attempt to flail our way out into the big old world, the only rank we have is that of our capacity to memorize information. No one cares that I can write research essays or do killer presentations that actually keep stoned teenagers interested. I’m sure they do, but they assume that is related to the percentage on the piece of paper from the ministry of education. I’d say that that number is about 40% accurate, showing only accurate numbers from the teachers and courses who mark and are marked correctly.
In the end, I really don’t think anyone cares if I can remember when exactly the Soviet détente occured, but would probably care what it was and why it affected the world.
And for those of you who bothered reading this, comment “Pie.”
Saturday, May 4, 2013
My Car Blew Up
That’s about it. My pride an joy, the 2002 Mazda Tribute has blown up between Kamloops and Meritt. I’m now getting off the Greyhound in Meritt. See y’all later.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
The Thrill of Being Where You Aren't Supposed to Be
Today we visited the world famous Banff Springs Hotel, which is about the closest to Hogwarts you will get in Canada. Instead of doing what most people did, which was stay on the ground floor and get lost, we got lost in an entirely different way: we went to the 12th floor. Most people will say (if they know the hotel), “There is no 12th floor.” Wrong. You have to take these steep little stairways high up into the eaves of the attics. Apparently two other groups of students were kicked out by security on the 9th floor as the entire floor was under re-decoration and renovation. In all, it was fun exploring the lesser known parts of a historical hotel… Do it if you ever get the chance: Take the lift to the 9th floor, get off, go right and find the stairs. Go up. As far as you can. There you will find room 999 (On the 12th floor).
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The End of High School
Tomorrow morning, I will wake up like usual at about 0600, but to leave on the last trip I will go on for high school, the Banff Rocky Mountain Music Festival. I attended for two years in 2010 and 2011, and I have never had a better time with my friends, nor have I experienced such immersion in music as then. This year is my last year in a choir, my last year doing a solo, my last year traveling at the expense of my parents. And tomorrow the end of that will begin.
It is strange knowing that next year I won’t be coming up to R. E. Mountain Secondary School with a backpack with a few binders and a crappy TI pocket calculator, that I will most likely be halfway across the province in University. It’s strange thinking that I will know no one, that I won’t be able to greet the teachers after the Summer and ask them how they are, but most of all I will miss the general feeling of the place.
Sure, I hate high school, and anyone who doesn’t should be checked out (I actually sincerely mean that), but where else do you make closer friends? Yes, I hope I make friends in university. But being stuck in the same building with the exact same small group of people for the entire day, every day, gives you a chance to truly find amazing people out of the sea of adolescence (literally and figuratively). Where else do you get more time in classes to learn alongside people you have gotten to know for possibly ten years - maybe only five, but that is still more that university will grant you.
Here ends government funded education, here end the bands and choirs that you can join on a whim. Here ends the guarantee that all your friends will be less that an hour away. Here ends the first day of school, where you give hugs to the friends who you missed because you only ever see them at school. Here ends the time that you will spend with the friends that are younger than you.
It feels strange to know that I will probably not be living with my parents next year, that I’ll actually have real seasons rather than Wet and Mild (the eternal season of Vancouver); that I’ll be cooking every single meal I eat.
Although I still have a good month and half left at Mountain, I think it really ends here.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Hawaii: Day 4: Oscar the Grouch, and, well... Oscar the Grouch
I have decided my dad’s problem. Everything, and I mean everything matters. Whether the person in front of him driving signals will piss him off enough to set him on an hour long rampage of huffing about and flooring it out of every light with wheels spinning. This guy honestly has no respect for relaxation and the speed of life in Hawaii. Then again, I’ve never seen him use his turn signal when there wasn’t a cop nearby. He hates my grandpa, I guess because they are so exactly alike.
Today we decided to drive the northeast loop of the island, via Waimea, the Saddle, Hilo, Honoka’a and finally Waipio. The saddle was amazing, as it always has been, but today we got to see a whole new perspective of the tropics: snow. Snow in Hawaii. I’ll be posting some photos of this phenomenon over the next few days, and I hope it’ll hit you as hard as it hit me. It was beautiful. I had my GoPro mounted on the hood of the car the whole way, although the video file split in the middle for some reason (not sure why). That will be on YouTube to bore you to tears soon. However, there is one thing I got with the GoPro that might not bore you, and that’s the Old Mamaloha Highway. A winding road built in the days of sugar farming, winding its way through deep chasms and gorges along the north coast, it will not fail to impress. A lot of it was one lane wide (although the brilliant County of Hawaii put a double line down the middle of it to divid your car into two halves).
Further along we visited Lapahoehoe Point, a dramatic and melancholic piece of land down another beautiful winding road. Back when the bigger tsunami hit about 50 years ago, an entire school full of kids was swept out to sea and never seen again. Today I don’t even know why someone would want to live here, what with the extreme nature of the waves around here.Their explosions frequently measured over 30 feet and sounded like constant thunder. Some numbnut put in a boat launch here, and even behind the monstrous breakwater there is 4 food chop. I would pay to see someone successfully launch anything other than a military landing craft from that ramp.
One grumpy hour later, we were overlooking the superb Waipio Valley, which I hiked to at the age of either 9 or 10, prior to the trail unfortunately being closed to the public due to and earthquake in 2006. Frankly, I would do anything, including trespass across the “private” (every god damned square inch of land in Hawaii is “private,” they could learn a bit from Canadians) land that leads to the trailhead. Good memories and anger at my parents for rolling their eyes verbally (if you know what I mean) to a guy who was planning on hiking to Waimanu, which is in fact one of my life dreams. My parents just don’t believe that anything beyond what they would be willing to do from the comfort of their thirty thousand dollar rental car. Jesus, travelling alone with me would be frightening. Anyways, they gave this guy shit indirectly and then started talking rudely about a local guy who was talking to his dog and having a swell time. My parents don’t understand what simple happiness and leisure is.
I was relieved to discover that I had thrown in a pair of headphones with my camera in the backpack, and I plugged myself in to some Louis Armstrong so that I wouldn’t have to hear my dad’s bitching about how stupid the car was and how slow the speed limits were and how narrow the roads are and so on. I just want to enjoy life, stop complaining about everything. It seems like you make up 100% of what I complain about, so I don’t know if I’m a hypocrite for wanting you to shut up, but I’d say I am because I only get pissed about one thing while you get peeved about everything.
Dinner was fishlike substance, let’s not get into that. Also, I love palm trees, I want a pet one that I can name Earl III (Earl I & II were the original pianos at my school, I don’t know why). If my dad doesn’t stop being such a wet blanket about everything I swear I’m going to steal something while in Hawaii just to watch him go nuts again.
Today we decided to drive the northeast loop of the island, via Waimea, the Saddle, Hilo, Honoka’a and finally Waipio. The saddle was amazing, as it always has been, but today we got to see a whole new perspective of the tropics: snow. Snow in Hawaii. I’ll be posting some photos of this phenomenon over the next few days, and I hope it’ll hit you as hard as it hit me. It was beautiful. I had my GoPro mounted on the hood of the car the whole way, although the video file split in the middle for some reason (not sure why). That will be on YouTube to bore you to tears soon. However, there is one thing I got with the GoPro that might not bore you, and that’s the Old Mamaloha Highway. A winding road built in the days of sugar farming, winding its way through deep chasms and gorges along the north coast, it will not fail to impress. A lot of it was one lane wide (although the brilliant County of Hawaii put a double line down the middle of it to divid your car into two halves).
Further along we visited Lapahoehoe Point, a dramatic and melancholic piece of land down another beautiful winding road. Back when the bigger tsunami hit about 50 years ago, an entire school full of kids was swept out to sea and never seen again. Today I don’t even know why someone would want to live here, what with the extreme nature of the waves around here.Their explosions frequently measured over 30 feet and sounded like constant thunder. Some numbnut put in a boat launch here, and even behind the monstrous breakwater there is 4 food chop. I would pay to see someone successfully launch anything other than a military landing craft from that ramp.
One grumpy hour later, we were overlooking the superb Waipio Valley, which I hiked to at the age of either 9 or 10, prior to the trail unfortunately being closed to the public due to and earthquake in 2006. Frankly, I would do anything, including trespass across the “private” (every god damned square inch of land in Hawaii is “private,” they could learn a bit from Canadians) land that leads to the trailhead. Good memories and anger at my parents for rolling their eyes verbally (if you know what I mean) to a guy who was planning on hiking to Waimanu, which is in fact one of my life dreams. My parents just don’t believe that anything beyond what they would be willing to do from the comfort of their thirty thousand dollar rental car. Jesus, travelling alone with me would be frightening. Anyways, they gave this guy shit indirectly and then started talking rudely about a local guy who was talking to his dog and having a swell time. My parents don’t understand what simple happiness and leisure is.
I was relieved to discover that I had thrown in a pair of headphones with my camera in the backpack, and I plugged myself in to some Louis Armstrong so that I wouldn’t have to hear my dad’s bitching about how stupid the car was and how slow the speed limits were and how narrow the roads are and so on. I just want to enjoy life, stop complaining about everything. It seems like you make up 100% of what I complain about, so I don’t know if I’m a hypocrite for wanting you to shut up, but I’d say I am because I only get pissed about one thing while you get peeved about everything.
Dinner was fishlike substance, let’s not get into that. Also, I love palm trees, I want a pet one that I can name Earl III (Earl I & II were the original pianos at my school, I don’t know why). If my dad doesn’t stop being such a wet blanket about everything I swear I’m going to steal something while in Hawaii just to watch him go nuts again.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Hawaii: Day 3: Snowstorms and Spiders
I am from British Columbia, which is supposed to be cold (it was until about five years ago when Al Gore visited and brought global warming with him). Coming to Hawaii is a real treat, because even when it is pouring rain and windy, it’s warm. I love it here. This is the reason that this morning, when I visited the NOAA’s website, I was disgusted to find that Mauna Kea, at a mere 13,796 and being the largest mountain on earth, was engulfed in a massive snow and ice storm. And we were supposed to visit it today to look out over the clouds. Two inches of ice on the roads. Temperatures with wind chill of minus 40 (celsius or fahrenheit, your call. I think they’re the same, aren’t they? Anyways, I was peeved, because that might keep up all week and that is NOT good cricket, Hawaii.
Instead, we went to do something we hadn’t done before on the Big Island (oh god forbid we try something new): hike along the uninhabited shoreline in a beautiful and rugged area. This proved to be amazing and some of the photos, still to follow. I got thoroughly soaked by one absolutely massive rogue wave, well in excess of 15 feet, hitting the cliffs. I counted 10 sea arches and over 15 blowholes (I feel ripped off, Andrew Doughty promised 12 sea arches. Well, to court we go!). Altogether an amazing hike. I highly recommend it, as long as you have a waterproof camera (I own two). Speaking of which, a GoPro makes an excellent camera to hold in over a blowhole, I don’t think my $900 Canon would get the same results (and survive).
For the drive to the hike, I attached my GoPro to the hood of our GMC Uglyasfuck. WOW did the footage look cool - I’ll be uploading it to YouTube tonight (search “Painted Church Road GoPro”).
I believe Agent Smith works as a security guard at the resort. HE even has the facial expression. SIngular. So now we have the other half of a day to waste away, and I have no bloody clue what we can do. I really want to go tell the clouds to screw off and let the 23 degrees become an ocean-sports permitting 28 degrees like it usually is here in Kona at this time of year.
Finally the clouds opened up in the late evening and gave me some of the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen or photographed in my life. A random guy walked by while I was barbecuing dinner and said that I should also photographed the spiders. I hadn’t noticed but there are spiders here that are more beautiful than the sunsets.
To conclude, I truly wish we had risked our insurance policy and driven as high up Mauna Kea as possible to experience the sort-of rare occurrence of snow in Hawaii.
Instead, we went to do something we hadn’t done before on the Big Island (oh god forbid we try something new): hike along the uninhabited shoreline in a beautiful and rugged area. This proved to be amazing and some of the photos, still to follow. I got thoroughly soaked by one absolutely massive rogue wave, well in excess of 15 feet, hitting the cliffs. I counted 10 sea arches and over 15 blowholes (I feel ripped off, Andrew Doughty promised 12 sea arches. Well, to court we go!). Altogether an amazing hike. I highly recommend it, as long as you have a waterproof camera (I own two). Speaking of which, a GoPro makes an excellent camera to hold in over a blowhole, I don’t think my $900 Canon would get the same results (and survive).
For the drive to the hike, I attached my GoPro to the hood of our GMC Uglyasfuck. WOW did the footage look cool - I’ll be uploading it to YouTube tonight (search “Painted Church Road GoPro”).
I believe Agent Smith works as a security guard at the resort. HE even has the facial expression. SIngular. So now we have the other half of a day to waste away, and I have no bloody clue what we can do. I really want to go tell the clouds to screw off and let the 23 degrees become an ocean-sports permitting 28 degrees like it usually is here in Kona at this time of year.
Finally the clouds opened up in the late evening and gave me some of the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen or photographed in my life. A random guy walked by while I was barbecuing dinner and said that I should also photographed the spiders. I hadn’t noticed but there are spiders here that are more beautiful than the sunsets.
To conclude, I truly wish we had risked our insurance policy and driven as high up Mauna Kea as possible to experience the sort-of rare occurrence of snow in Hawaii.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Hawaii: Day 2: iPods and Illnesses
Ah, Hawaii. The place big enough that you aren’t likely to have time to see everything but small enough that you will see the same cute girl, on two different days, in two completely different places. The world is cruel, is it not?
My mother is horribly ill, meaning that we can’t do anything. I mean anything. We ca’t even leave the condo for a walk (well I can leave, but not my dad or my mum). It’s pissing me off - we fly all the way to Hawaii to be cooped up in a soviet-era condo. However, I can hand it one thing.
I have never walked across a golf green in my life. The first reason being I don’t have the money to play golf, the second being my interest in golf is similar to my interest in professional hair styling. However, last friday, the golf course (a full 18 holes) in front of our hotel shut down and the fences were taken down. It is still maintained since it’s still a perfectly good golf course and someone might want to buy it, but you don’t get kicked off for not paying. I can do cartwheels all the way across it (actually, I can’t. I just needed to throw that in). What were the highlights of the day? Well, for starters, we bumped into (literally, I stubbed my toe upon walking onto the property) a massive abandoned hotel. It’s called the Outrigger Keauhou Beach Resort. The grounds are perfectly maintained and there are security guards who we talked to and asked about the hotel (it shut down on Halloween).
From the grounds, we watched, astounded, as a 747-200 did an approach with the landing gear down from almost 5000 feet. That’s right. Five. Freaking. Thousand. Feet. Usually landing gear goes down around 1000.
Every story, however comedic in nature, must be crested with tragedy. This morning I woke up and wanted to listen to some music on my iPod, as well as read some of the things we were going to do out of the wonderful Hawaii: The Big Island Revealed app. To my dismay, I could not locate the iPod. Soon the entire hotel room was upside down (the earthquakes here are terrible), and still no iPod. I thought, “maybe it’s still in my pants from last night.” It wasn’t. But the pocket that the iPod was so cozily nested in has an iPod sized hole in the bottom, which means that either those son of a bitches at WestJet found it when cleaning the plane and chose not to try to contact the owner, it’s sitting on the tarmac being shredded by the engine of a 747, or any of the three places we were last night. There are literally only three places I could have lost it: airport, car rental, or hotel lobby. I pray it shows up.
On the other side of the news, I got some splendid photographs of some heritage totems near the Outrigger, as well as watched the tide start pouring in. I realized that one of the factors leading to the demise of the hotel could have been the Tsunami form Japan, which hit Kona pretty hard and destroyed a lot of businesses.
Costco here is brilliant. In Canada, you walk up to a big long counter and one person takes all the orders, then one person gives out all the food, and there is like a 2 person support staff in the kitchen. Here, there are 5 windows, each with a separate cash register.
After discussing the similarities between my stuffed hamster Hammy and an upturned hippo with my dad, we threw a pizza in the oven and enjoyed a nice cold fruit juice cup of (that sentence was poorly formed and I’m too lazy to fix it. Instead, I will now type half a paragraph of this). As I was sitting alone on our front porch finishing my last piece of pizza (number 11), I look up just in time to see a guy almost walk into our suite. I pipe up: “I think your’s is the next one over.” He responds: “Good man. We need more like you,” and returns to his condo. He came back to meet my father and I, and he’s from the next town over, Port Coquitlam, British Columbia. We come all the way to Hawaii and meet a guy from down the highway.
After dinner, I went inside and opened my briefcase, and my iPod fell out. Somehow, it had embedded itself into the side of the bag, between sewn layers of fabric, and morphed into the seventh dimension and conversed with beings from Europa (I made some of that up, namely the part about the layers of fabric). Anyways, I recovered my iPod. Conflict resolved, which means the drama is at an end, meaning that the story is over. Thanks for reading if you wasted your time doing so, and screw you if you didn’t!
My mother is horribly ill, meaning that we can’t do anything. I mean anything. We ca’t even leave the condo for a walk (well I can leave, but not my dad or my mum). It’s pissing me off - we fly all the way to Hawaii to be cooped up in a soviet-era condo. However, I can hand it one thing.
I have never walked across a golf green in my life. The first reason being I don’t have the money to play golf, the second being my interest in golf is similar to my interest in professional hair styling. However, last friday, the golf course (a full 18 holes) in front of our hotel shut down and the fences were taken down. It is still maintained since it’s still a perfectly good golf course and someone might want to buy it, but you don’t get kicked off for not paying. I can do cartwheels all the way across it (actually, I can’t. I just needed to throw that in). What were the highlights of the day? Well, for starters, we bumped into (literally, I stubbed my toe upon walking onto the property) a massive abandoned hotel. It’s called the Outrigger Keauhou Beach Resort. The grounds are perfectly maintained and there are security guards who we talked to and asked about the hotel (it shut down on Halloween).
From the grounds, we watched, astounded, as a 747-200 did an approach with the landing gear down from almost 5000 feet. That’s right. Five. Freaking. Thousand. Feet. Usually landing gear goes down around 1000.
Every story, however comedic in nature, must be crested with tragedy. This morning I woke up and wanted to listen to some music on my iPod, as well as read some of the things we were going to do out of the wonderful Hawaii: The Big Island Revealed app. To my dismay, I could not locate the iPod. Soon the entire hotel room was upside down (the earthquakes here are terrible), and still no iPod. I thought, “maybe it’s still in my pants from last night.” It wasn’t. But the pocket that the iPod was so cozily nested in has an iPod sized hole in the bottom, which means that either those son of a bitches at WestJet found it when cleaning the plane and chose not to try to contact the owner, it’s sitting on the tarmac being shredded by the engine of a 747, or any of the three places we were last night. There are literally only three places I could have lost it: airport, car rental, or hotel lobby. I pray it shows up.
On the other side of the news, I got some splendid photographs of some heritage totems near the Outrigger, as well as watched the tide start pouring in. I realized that one of the factors leading to the demise of the hotel could have been the Tsunami form Japan, which hit Kona pretty hard and destroyed a lot of businesses.
Costco here is brilliant. In Canada, you walk up to a big long counter and one person takes all the orders, then one person gives out all the food, and there is like a 2 person support staff in the kitchen. Here, there are 5 windows, each with a separate cash register.
After discussing the similarities between my stuffed hamster Hammy and an upturned hippo with my dad, we threw a pizza in the oven and enjoyed a nice cold fruit juice cup of (that sentence was poorly formed and I’m too lazy to fix it. Instead, I will now type half a paragraph of this). As I was sitting alone on our front porch finishing my last piece of pizza (number 11), I look up just in time to see a guy almost walk into our suite. I pipe up: “I think your’s is the next one over.” He responds: “Good man. We need more like you,” and returns to his condo. He came back to meet my father and I, and he’s from the next town over, Port Coquitlam, British Columbia. We come all the way to Hawaii and meet a guy from down the highway.
After dinner, I went inside and opened my briefcase, and my iPod fell out. Somehow, it had embedded itself into the side of the bag, between sewn layers of fabric, and morphed into the seventh dimension and conversed with beings from Europa (I made some of that up, namely the part about the layers of fabric). Anyways, I recovered my iPod. Conflict resolved, which means the drama is at an end, meaning that the story is over. Thanks for reading if you wasted your time doing so, and screw you if you didn’t!
Friday, March 15, 2013
Hawaii: Day 1: WestJet and Rental Cars
Flights are always really freaking awesome. We took WJ1882 (I have that number memorized, this was my third time on that exact flight) from YVR to KOA or PHKO depending on whether you’re actually intelligent or not. It was a disgusting day in Vancouver when we left, way too hot for March 15th. 17 degrees was the high. Welcome to spring.
After skipping most of my classes for the day because they would have been pointless, I drove home and got to witness the ultimate display of grouchygrumpnuts. My father seems to be more stressed on Vacation than at work. I don’t get it, I’m the opposite (along with 95% of the world’s sane human population).
We got to the airport after having to listen to my grandpa ramble on about how he had found these amazing devices - E-Readers! He was also musing over the fact that he could plug a USB drive into his car and play music… and then I showed him my iPod and he asked what the point of that was. Enough said. Not white, actually - he also spent the other half of the drive through the Massey Tunnel rambling about this amazing new technology, rechargeable AA batteries (the lithium ion type), that should never have been invented because it’s going to destroy the world or something. Just for comparison to how behind my parents are, my mother was agreeing with him (although quite frankly she doesn’t know what a Lithium ion battery is).
Airport security was dull except for the really grumpy and bored checkpoint staffmember named Lovely, whose name, when read, came out the other side of my brain in the most sarcastic tone of “oh, well that’s lovely.” Partially from her mood, partially because I’m a twisted and judgemental freak.
I spent an hour at the airport doing three things: taking pictures of planes (stay tuned for a crap ton of posts over the next two weeks), figuring out why my camera wasn’t taking pictures of planes, and trying to order a simple sandwich from a Tim Hortons woman who spoke about two and a half words of English. I did not end up with what I ordered, but they gave me the more expensive sandwich instead of the cheap one I chose, so I’m sure not complaining. Finally, we found my mum lollygagging (I just had to use that word, I don’t even know what it means) around the other side of the airport, and we boarded the plane.
The flight was awesome. I watched two episodes of David Attenborough’s epic as shit voice talking about humping hippos (aka, Planet Earth), ate my sandwich and then my mum’s (she was not hungry/sleeping). Then I ate a tube of Pringles. Then I ate half a kilogram of dried fruit. There is about as much potato in the dried fruit as is in the Pringles. I swear they’re made of styrofoam and crack. Then I tried to get some rest while being kicked by the little bastard in the seat in front of me (it’s possible, don’t ask how). Thank god for WestJet and their legroom or I would not be hiking this week.
And then, welcome to Hawaii, land of way to disturbingly friendly airport security and rental car shuttle drivers. Hawaii, I swear, is the only place in the world where the skinny Asian dudes are the cool guys, they drive the pickup trucks, and they run the place (other than Vancouver, possibly). But let’s get to the point:
Hawaii is so freaking laid back. I’m watching people doing their after work shopping at Safeway in Kailua Kona (Google Map it, you stalker), and I mean, in Langley, when people move slowly into a grocery store it’s because they either physically cannot move faster or they are way too freaking lazy to pick up the effin’ pace. Here, it’s the speed of things. Einstein’s theory of relativity applies: everyone moves slower, so time passes slower. Science has paid off, ok?
Apparently we’re having all of the Kona coast and Kohala for breakfast tomorrow, since my parents were supposed to get the fixin’s for breaky and returned with a shopping cart overflowing with chow.
As an aside, I’d like to talk about our rental car, a new enough for me to call new GMC Arcadia (as our paleozoic rental car guy called it). I got to peek inside the cockpit of the 737-800ER that we flew here on, and I know for a fact that this car has more buttons than the entire flight deck. And I know the flight deck of the 737 pretty damned well (I was dictating the landing checklist as we were on approach, my dad was giving me disdainful looks). What happened to dials? The fan control even uses buttons. It even appears that there is a button that activates a giant peanut maker directly above the driver’s head, but I can’t be sure.The only thing I like about this lump o’ junk gas-guzzler is that it has radio and climate controls specifically for the back, in the back, that actually work. Don’t ask how GMC came up with the logic of separate RADIO controls. We were supposed to be driving a Ford Escape.
To close of the laid-backness of Hawaii, it’s just after 11 when I’m writing this in the car on the way to the resort and I have seen a total of four cars. We have driven 1/10th the length of the island.
Anyways, mahalo for reading and aloha!
If you found any part of this post offensive, and I apologize for your sorry oversensitivity. It’s a humorous journal, not a philosophical text.
After skipping most of my classes for the day because they would have been pointless, I drove home and got to witness the ultimate display of grouchygrumpnuts. My father seems to be more stressed on Vacation than at work. I don’t get it, I’m the opposite (along with 95% of the world’s sane human population).
We got to the airport after having to listen to my grandpa ramble on about how he had found these amazing devices - E-Readers! He was also musing over the fact that he could plug a USB drive into his car and play music… and then I showed him my iPod and he asked what the point of that was. Enough said. Not white, actually - he also spent the other half of the drive through the Massey Tunnel rambling about this amazing new technology, rechargeable AA batteries (the lithium ion type), that should never have been invented because it’s going to destroy the world or something. Just for comparison to how behind my parents are, my mother was agreeing with him (although quite frankly she doesn’t know what a Lithium ion battery is).
Airport security was dull except for the really grumpy and bored checkpoint staffmember named Lovely, whose name, when read, came out the other side of my brain in the most sarcastic tone of “oh, well that’s lovely.” Partially from her mood, partially because I’m a twisted and judgemental freak.
I spent an hour at the airport doing three things: taking pictures of planes (stay tuned for a crap ton of posts over the next two weeks), figuring out why my camera wasn’t taking pictures of planes, and trying to order a simple sandwich from a Tim Hortons woman who spoke about two and a half words of English. I did not end up with what I ordered, but they gave me the more expensive sandwich instead of the cheap one I chose, so I’m sure not complaining. Finally, we found my mum lollygagging (I just had to use that word, I don’t even know what it means) around the other side of the airport, and we boarded the plane.
The flight was awesome. I watched two episodes of David Attenborough’s epic as shit voice talking about humping hippos (aka, Planet Earth), ate my sandwich and then my mum’s (she was not hungry/sleeping). Then I ate a tube of Pringles. Then I ate half a kilogram of dried fruit. There is about as much potato in the dried fruit as is in the Pringles. I swear they’re made of styrofoam and crack. Then I tried to get some rest while being kicked by the little bastard in the seat in front of me (it’s possible, don’t ask how). Thank god for WestJet and their legroom or I would not be hiking this week.
And then, welcome to Hawaii, land of way to disturbingly friendly airport security and rental car shuttle drivers. Hawaii, I swear, is the only place in the world where the skinny Asian dudes are the cool guys, they drive the pickup trucks, and they run the place (other than Vancouver, possibly). But let’s get to the point:
Hawaii is so freaking laid back. I’m watching people doing their after work shopping at Safeway in Kailua Kona (Google Map it, you stalker), and I mean, in Langley, when people move slowly into a grocery store it’s because they either physically cannot move faster or they are way too freaking lazy to pick up the effin’ pace. Here, it’s the speed of things. Einstein’s theory of relativity applies: everyone moves slower, so time passes slower. Science has paid off, ok?
Apparently we’re having all of the Kona coast and Kohala for breakfast tomorrow, since my parents were supposed to get the fixin’s for breaky and returned with a shopping cart overflowing with chow.
As an aside, I’d like to talk about our rental car, a new enough for me to call new GMC Arcadia (as our paleozoic rental car guy called it). I got to peek inside the cockpit of the 737-800ER that we flew here on, and I know for a fact that this car has more buttons than the entire flight deck. And I know the flight deck of the 737 pretty damned well (I was dictating the landing checklist as we were on approach, my dad was giving me disdainful looks). What happened to dials? The fan control even uses buttons. It even appears that there is a button that activates a giant peanut maker directly above the driver’s head, but I can’t be sure.The only thing I like about this lump o’ junk gas-guzzler is that it has radio and climate controls specifically for the back, in the back, that actually work. Don’t ask how GMC came up with the logic of separate RADIO controls. We were supposed to be driving a Ford Escape.
To close of the laid-backness of Hawaii, it’s just after 11 when I’m writing this in the car on the way to the resort and I have seen a total of four cars. We have driven 1/10th the length of the island.
Anyways, mahalo for reading and aloha!
If you found any part of this post offensive, and I apologize for your sorry oversensitivity. It’s a humorous journal, not a philosophical text.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)