Part I: the early years
It is nearly impossible to pick an accurate starting point for this journey, but in the grand scheme of things, it does not matter where I begin. What I can say is that September 10th, 1993 was quite a while ago, and this may turn out to be a six hundred page novel before it is all said and done. So far, it is a story filled with smiles, laughs, adventure, hardships, lessons learned, and personal growth. Looking back through my mind to the earliest of days, growing up in Cloverdale was all I could ever ask for. It was by no means wealthy or poor, but somewhere settled in the middle where the conditions for progressing in life were just right. Situated around my family home were the Greens to the left, Patsy & Co. to the right, the Sadlers across the street, the Colletts and Webbers to the north, while the Bunches, Parks, Farmers, Livseys, Woodses, and Virags all lived a few houses away. Later, through sports and school, I would find out that the Pennocks, Aulds, Cicutos, Briggses, Krogfosses, Maidenses, Munros, Wheelers, Ahnerts, Rossignols, and Lamberts all lived close by as well. A winning ticket in the birth lottery for me as all of them had kids and I am still friends with some of them today. One of the earliest memories I have is swinging bats and golf clubs in the back yard. My Dad and Uncle were teaching me to swing right-handed. I was a natural lefty but they were adamant on converting me. It turns out I am right eye dominant so I will give them a win for that one. My house backed on to the baseball diamonds of Cloverdale Ball Park, which was beside George Greenaway Elementary, my future school. Every so often I would sit out on the deck overlooking the Peewee field during the off-season and watch my Dad hit a bucket of golf balls from our backyard onto the mound. I figure it was about one-hundred yards and since there was a big gap between our cedar trees along the back fence, it worked as the perfect wedge practice. Afterward, we would walk over and collect them all with a shag bag so no harm no foul. Those nineties years were a different time. Preschool came into play soon after and I got in tune with the neighbourhood kids. It was a simple time, hanging out for a few hours a day colouring, interacting with others, and not having a clue what was in store down the road. At five, tee ball started and my Mom and Craig Park coached both myself and his son Will. That is probably the true story as to how we became such close friends, however, there is a tale of him sticking a sucker on my head when we were about two and it was friends from there on. Since the Bunches lived between us and the Parks, their son Jason also became close and the childhood trio came to be. We built lego, climbed trees, had sleepovers, pestered wasps, spent hours in Jay’s dad’s old car in the yard, and setup army men in Will’s backyard sandbox. There was also the time we nearly set an entire section of trees on fire behind our houses. Who came up with the smart idea to light magazines ablaze with battery acid and barbeque lighters in a hideout we created, I do not recall. A lot of time was spent together and as we got older, our interests shifted to skateboarding, road hockey, paintball, biking, and the crown jewel, video games. I will never know how many hours we compiled on our favourites like Pokemon, Socom, Tony Hawk, Need For Speed, War Rock, Runescape, Call of Duty, Halo, Battlefield, and Grand Theft Auto. It is safe to say gaming accounted for a disgusting amount of our free time, much to the dislike of our parents. Go outside! Or, I will rip this thing from the wall! We heard them all and always pushed it to the limit. Just one more game Mom, just one more game. Unfortunately, most of that generation will never understand the revelation they provided. Hilarity ensued speeding away from the army down the streets of Vice City after racking up five stars. A few questionable decisions after punching in the weapons cheat always seemed to do the trick. Worth every minute? Yeah. I have never laughed harder.
The beginning of elementary school brought about a new learning experience in the classroom. It was strange coming to George Greenaway at first. Having to enter a building for six hours every day, where there were a bunch of rules and expectations, took some getting used to. I still remember meeting Munro in kindergarten and it was not long before Will, he, and I became close. In free time period, we would go to this block station and try to build the blocks way over our heads and then when the moment was right, collapse our creation like a violent rockfall. Yes, we were handed a few timeouts over the course of the year. People who know me now will never believe how quiet I used to be during this stage of my life. I rarely spoke in class and I would get extremely nervous over things like reading aloud or show and tell. I built up so much stress beforehand and worried about failing or making a fool of myself. Maybe it is a normal tendency to some degree, but I hated being put on the spot. What is funny is that I would perform well and execute the task at hand over and over again when it came time. Little did I know, life has many of those moments and it took me a long time before I managed to overcome those feelings. As school went on, I developed a sharp passion for hard work and completing assignments to the best of my ability. In third grade, our class would play this game called Bus Stop, where you would stand next to another student and the teacher would hold up a large card with a multiplication question. The one who answered it faster moved on to challenge the next person and so on. I would practice problems in my spare time up to the forty times twenty-five range because it was fun. I had pages and pages of them written down in an extra notebook. It was way past what we were supposed to cover and I got so fast at them I would go around the entire room until I would get to Munro. He was about the only one who could ever beat me. I learned early on that the whole aspect of institution was important. I believed it would matter in the future. It was hard for some kids to see the foundation that was being created. Recess and after-school activities, while still important for growth, were always at the forefront for some. I was never one to not care or hand things in late. I would do my homework immediately after school most days and have fun after. I almost cared too much because as the years went on, I felt like I had built up this image of being the perfect student and had to carry it around with me. I was a true overachiever in the realm of education and in seventh grade I forgot to complete a homework assignment for the first time. Hearing murmurs and soft whispers around the class as I went up to place my planner in the “did not complete” pile was awful. It felt like I had let the whole world down and I wanted to cry. It was so hard for me to accept that humans just make mistakes or slip up from time to time, but it ate me alive as I wanted to be perfect. I was not and realizing that hurt. During the end of the year, I developed my passion for history as the curriculum glanced over Egypt, Greece, Rome, and other civilizations of the ancient world. I found it fascinating, especially the warfare aspects, which included the great generals, battles, and how geopolitical boundaries were forged through conflict in those times. I nearly recited the textbook on the final social studies test that year answering a grand question that asked to lay out Alexander’s eastern expansion which commenced in 336BCE. The phalanx, which was the key centrepiece of the Macedonian army, with the addition of the famous companion cavalry on the flanks, proved unstoppable for a while. Take a read about the strategy Alexander implemented at Guagamela or the Hydaspes River. Even though I am so displaced from those events, that kind of stuff gives me shivers. He was a tactical genius with aggressive tendencies. The Romans, who were masters at adapting their military strategy from their defeats, learned to unhinge and destroy the phalanx later on. Anyway, Mr. Pinto, my teacher at the time, could not believe it. I guess he never knew how much I loved that part of the class. As that final elementary school year wrapped up in June ’06, I was content. There were a few things to look forward to, we had just got a new dog and high school was around the corner. I had won the Scholastic Award for top student at graduation and the thought of moving on to Lord Tweedsmuir Secondary was exciting. Picking classes, eating at the cafeteria, going to school with some sports buddies, and leaving to go for lunch, everything sounded amazing. I was a kid with glowing potential and later on I will get into how I almost threw it all away.
Out of the classroom, life was filled with baseball, soccer, family events, friends, and neighbourhood activities. Every so often, my family would head up to my great Uncle and Aunt’s place to have dinner or celebrate a birthday. Before all the housing construction, they owned a massive yard with gardens and pens filled with chickens, geese, and pigs. I think they had a cow at one point too. It was a small scale farm for the ages and my cousin and I would spend hours playing around back there. The main favourites were army, hide and seek, and of course, agitating the animals. Usually, the parents had to send out a search party to find us because we had no idea when meals were ready or if I was leaving soon. We experienced the tail end of the “be home for dinner” era and were always lost in fun. I hope some kids today still know that feeling. Only a handful of the kids in my immediate neighbourhood had older siblings, let alone older brothers to look up to. I think most of us (Will, Jay, Spencer, Brandon and myself) gravitated towards the Livseys for that. We were friends with Andrew, but their oldest sons, Tommy and Robby, were two of the coolest kids you could ever meet growing up. They embodied the street skater look and if I were to describe them in one sentence, it would be along the lines of two comedy characters that were always up to no good. One day, we were out skateboarding on the street trying to ollie onto the sidewalk with little success when Robby cruised by and asked if someone had a recycling bin he could borrow. Will ran home and grabbed one of those tall blue ones and Robby set it up in the middle of the pavement. He skated down the street, wheeled around, gathered some speed, ollied straight over the bin, and landed perfectly with that timeless grin. Just seeing someone that talented was amazing. Hanging out at the Livsey household was even better. I am sure most people had that one friend growing up who had the cool home atmosphere and rules that were pretty lenient. Yeah, this was that place. They had all the good cereals my parents would never buy like cocoa puffs and cinnamon toast crunch. Their freezer was stocked with pop tarts and ice cream sandwiches, there was no curfew during sleepovers, and the boys had an N64 with Super Smash Bros and Goldeneye. One might say it was paradise. I heard Eminem for the first time here at the mature age of eight. Hi kids, do you like violence? Do you want to see me stick Nine Inch Nails through each one of my eyelids? Yeah, you get the idea. I basically quadrupled my vocabulary of vulgar insults in about four minutes. It was quite the eye-opening experience. Will and I were at their house one night and I remember Tommy bursting in the room with a bucket full of water balloons asking us to join him in hitting some cars. Their house backed onto 64th Avenue so it was perfect. We hid behind the fence and started lobbing them over every time we heard tires getting close. God, we must have just scared the living daylights out of some drivers as they went by. Good old Cloverdale shenanigans! That kind of stuff was commonplace with us growing up, having fun and joking around was the name of the game. However, the most critical aspect of those early years was learning lessons and habits from parents and coaches along the way. Watching and listening to people that had more experience on this planet was extremely important. Whether it was my Grandpa giving me tips on my golf grip, learning some shop carpentry things from Will’s dad, or listening to my dad after baseball games reflect on my performance, I realized that those things mattered. Sometimes I felt it was easy to blow off what they said because, at that point in my life, those concepts did not hold any weight. Those lessons seemed like such far off, irrelevant thoughts. But, just like school, I had a gut feeling they would be worth paying attention to down the road. Logically, I used history as a reference guide. For example, my Grandpa had been a part of this world before the 1929 stock market crash and before Nazi Germany even formulated. He was here to see everything from the origin of Israel and the joining of Newfoundland, to the creation of the internet and more. He saw the world transform in astronomical ways. My parent’s generation did as well, just on a shorter time scale. I began to understand that they were talking to teach as they had witnessed and experienced far more than I could have dreamed of. It was humbling. I knew I had more to learn if I wanted to become even a fraction of the people they were when I grew up.
PART II: high school
I remember the first day Will and I strolled up the sidewalk and entered the main doors of Lord Tweedsmuir like it was yesterday. It seems like ages ago now. From what I have heard, high school reflections are a mixed bag when it comes to each individual experience. When I think about those five years and all the activities that I was a part of, I could not have asked for a better time. Since my mom drove to Langley for work in the morning around the same time we had to be at school, Jay, Will, and I would pile in the car with her and get a ride up almost every day. I would consider us lucky as we only had to walk home, some kids had to walk both ways. Those first few weeks were filled with the typical feelings of not wanting to leave home base. I stuck to what was comfortable, my friends’ group, and the people I knew from Greenaway. I always had lunch with Munro and the boys at the typical spot and most people did the same at our age. Not until I got to know people through some of my classes did I start to wade out into the unknown. Dogg, who I knew through baseball, and I had a blast in Art & Drama that year. From putting in the hours memorizing skit lines for our presentation, to throwing small pieces of clay around at people hard at work on their art projects, it was always fun and games. Through him, I got to know some of his buddies like Bass, Mcrae, Saho, and Driedge. Before Christmas break rolled around that year, I had met all kinds of people in my other classes, which allowed my social circle to grow dramatically. High school is an amazing place to make connections if you put yourself out there. It is also the place where I learned that it was pretty easy to start exploring different paths in life. Even before arriving at Tweedsmuir, I had heard rumors. I remember a couple girls in my class at Greenaway got caught smoking weed and skipping class; two activities that were taboo to me. They hung around with interesting characters after hours and it kind of opened my eyes a bit. Fast forward back to Tweedsmuir, a little more individual freedom made it easy to get caught up in those things. Because I was such a straight edge, I learned that I could get into trouble quickly if I did not separate true friends and fringe acquaintances. I made some school hour only boundaries with certain people because I was not into hanging around town late, skipping class, getting up to no good, smoking, etcetera etcetera. Like I said before, I had good vision in seeing that the most likely path to success involved showing up to class, getting your work done and creating good habits outside of class. Now, stepping down the fun path was great every once and a while, but I knew that it would lead me into an environment that was not ideal, so I mainly steered clear. While many kids in early high school were trying to find ways to acquire booze and locate the nearest party on Friday or Saturday night, I usually stayed in. I tried to get a lot of homework done on Friday nights because I had baseball training and soccer games on the weekend. The rest of the time I wanted free for friends and Call of Duty. I have to take a detour into the Call of Duty world here because explaining my high school time without it would be a travesty. When the first commercial for the series came out in ’03, I was instantly hooked. Seeing a game represent my favourite six years in world history was all I could ask for. Using authentic weapons like the Thompson, the M1911, and the M1 Garand to traverse and fight through the Western Front was a surreal feeling. Playing the first three iterations was something, but things changed in the fall of ’07. I was just beginning my journey into ninth grade when Activision released the game that took my breath away. Call of Duty 4 came into my hands that November and it is still, in my experience, the greatest game I have ever played. The quintessential modern shooter, with a storyline boasting a plausible near-future world catastrophe orchestrated by Russian ultra-nationalists. I could not have dreamed of anything cooler. Infinity Ward, the studio that designed it, made a game so iconic that the new releases could not replicate that same feel. The level of passion, authenticity, and touch are absent in some way. It is a hard one for me to explain. I could spend hours talking here but Dyl, Will, Doug, Kyle, Dom, Trev, Jackie, Benji, McRae, and all of the others who were apart of the Call of Duty glory days, the times were amazing. Most people will never understand the amount of work we put in to get to the top. Countless hours were spent in private matches working on lane timing, map pre-fires, grenade placements, team setups, cheeky angles, bomb spots, rotations, and personalized call outs. In ’12, we went like 78-6 on the competitive scene and I am positive Doug has the photo of the website leaderboard hidden away somewhere. Legit pros aside, I liked our chances against anybody. For a group of friends from small-town Cloverdale playing a game they enjoyed, we were crafty and well prepared. There were some good lessons learned during those times as well. How to overcome adversity, conflict resolution, and working with others who see things differently than you, all relate to everyday life today.
The rest of ninth grade and tenth grade just flew by. Once I settled in and got accustomed to the ebb and flow of Tweedsmuir life, I had a blast. I enjoyed P.E., Design Tech, Social Studies and most of the Sciences. I always loved playing dodgeball and softball in Fournier’s and Gemmell’s P.E. classes those years. Even the fitness testing and weight room units were not too bad. Those things are essential to a good lifestyle now anyways. Gemmell was one of those teachers who made an impact on so many students. He coached the hockey team and was involved in school activities on every level. He would rip into guys for trying to take shortcuts on the morning run or get the whole class going on a slow clap when some people actually decided to show up. When progress report time was nearing, he always used to say:
Now listen up, I only give out two comments, comment number 367 and comment number 237. Let me tell you, you do not want comment 237. So show up and put in a decent effort every day.
It was pretty funny. He taught in a laid back, joke-filled way, but he knew what was important and how to translate it to his students. Other notable teachers that come to mind from those years were Poethke and Swaddling. Poethke had the poster of Tom Brady on his wall and the computers in his class where we would play Age of Empires after exams. Swaddling was cool. The Design Tech teacher had the hardest clapper I had ever seen. In the annual floor hockey tournament, the winner would play the teachers and each penalty shot he took would be an absolute missile from the centreline. He would not deke, I could not believe it. Brian Rolston-esque. My team lost to Dogg’s squad that year, but we made a statement in the semifinals. I smoked Driedge into the divider and Will made the most unbelievable sprawling glove save in the shootout. I left everything on the gym floor during those kinds of events as I loved the challenge of facing better players. The underdog story was great to me. Back in class, I could never take my eyes off of McRobbie in Math or Allard in the hallway for obvious reasons. A couple of gems for sure. Most of my teachers were pretty sound and I really did learn a plethora of good information. Sure, I thought some assignments were stupid and there were times I wanted to be other places during the day, but it was all building towards that final destination, crossing the stage at seventeen. Focusing on that was priority number one.
I had made some changes to my life by this point and for a fourteen-year-old, I felt like they were decent shifts. To start, I had been going to church with my mom for the majority of my life. I would go for the service and listen to the songs as the band was pretty good. I did not mind that part, but when that was over and the actual sermon commenced, I found myself quite bored. Sometimes all the kids would go downstairs and hang out with the youth group leaders, but not every Sunday. Over time, I started going to the weekly youth group hang out. We would play games, cards, and participate in activities. A fun environment? Yes. But, as I got older, I realized that it was not for me. I would watch people get baptized, participate in the sermon, and see older people donate money, but I did not feel what other people seemed to be feeling. Arguments arose with my mom when Sunday morning rolled around and soon enough I stopped going altogether. Church did not resonate with me and I was content leaving it behind for good. Even today, I do not think about that decision, or how my life could have been different. I still need to do more research before I decide where to plant my flag on such a prominent part of human existence. The second decision I made was to quit competitive baseball after my Bantam AAA season. Long story short, that was the year I realized I was not having any fun playing at that level. Why? Too many politics, too many parents that thought their kids were the be all end all, and too much unnecessary stress on and off the field. The final nail in the coffin for me was when we had two players and their families quit on the spot during the provincials, along with one game almost turning into a street fight with parents from both sides after a bad slide into home plate. During that moment, I was caught up in the emotions and thought it was pretty funny, but I asked myself later that night if baseball was supposed to look like that. Of course, it is not, but I wanted to be free of that toxic-like baggage which seemed to linger around the higher levels. That fall, I still played for the Fraser Valley Chiefs and accompanied the Delta Blue Jays in their winter training program in hopes of making the team for the spring season. As opening day neared, I felt no real desire to keep pursuing the opportunity that could lead to college ball. So, my short time in the PBL came to an end and I opted to play in my local league with the majority of my friends. It was a great decision. Over the years, I had accumulated a lot of knowledge on technique, band exercises, correct warm up, and cool down routines from elite level coaches. I still brought that to the field every day and maintained arriving two hours before games to prepare. I ran poles after pitching during the game and utilized stretches that no one else did because I knew that is what it took for me to be at my optimal ability each game and the next. When I took to the field, I wanted to be at my best and it did not matter what anyone else thought. I did not care. What you have to realize about dropping down levels in sports to play in the house tier, is that everyone’s motivation for playing is drastically different. Most people are there for fun and some kids are still pushed to play by their parents. Sure, many of the guys lacked the knowledge I had obtained about taking care of your arm and proper conditioning, but the difference was that I still wanted to dominate in any league I played in. I got laughed at and chirped by teammates for the way I operated. I would always get the “watch out we have a pro over here” or the “take it easy buddy, do not hurt yourself” sort of talk. I brushed it off like rain as they did not understand my mentality. I set my own standards. During the rest of my time playing high school and junior men’s baseball, I learned to accept that I was in an environment where teammates would show up hungover or get to the park ten minutes before game time, swing the bat four or five times, and be ready to play. Work ethic levels, like school, were very apparent on the diamond. Dropping the stress and excess weight of the higher leagues, but keeping my discipline and drive to be the best ballplayer I could be, was the perfect cocktail. I thoroughly enjoyed playing with some good friends for the remainder of my years. Besides slow pitch, we all hung up the cleats a few years ago. There was no better feeling than walking out to the mound on a Sunday afternoon at Hillcrest. I would stare down home plate through the slit of my glove waiting to paint the black from sixty feet and six inches away. It was complete euphoria.
As I sat in class during the first week of eleventh grade, I remember something I will never forget. One teacher said:
This an exciting time for you guys. These last years things start to change. You will start to form personal relationships with teachers and begin building towards life after high school.
In other words, life was slowly changing, more responsibilities were on the way, and elders would start treating me as more of an adult. I already had a taste of this as I had earned my L license the spring before. Like some kids, I procrastinated in taking it because I really had no reason to drive; nor did I want to. After school, Will and I would cut through the Agriplex by Fraser Downs and arrive home in twenty minutes. Those were good walks with an even better friend. Most people who drove home got backed up on the street going down the hill for fifteen minutes anyway. Plus, I did not have a job, so I was not keen on paying for insurance, gas, and maintenance. I got very good at rationalizing not driving for a while and on top of all that, I was nervous. I did not get how so many people judged distance from parked cars, stayed between the lines, maneuvered in parking lots, and turned left at intersections. There were too many things to worry about at once and I felt that I would become overwhelmed quite quickly. I went out a few times to practice with my mom, but those drives usually ended up in shouting matches so it was decided lessons were the best route. Over time, I became confident and easily passed the N test later on. Universal challenges in life are there for everyone to hurdle, but because everyone is unique, there is no timeline or right way to climb over them. I put things like education and licenses in that category. Each human tries to achieve them when they feel ready to progress in life. I had a good start by now, but my class five license and other hurdles were still on the horizon. That October, I landed my first job at the local London Drugs in Cloverdale. This was a big deal and it really helped me emerge out of my shell. Interacting with the public and presenting myself professionally was quite new to me. The manager who hired me seemed pretty intimidating at the time. He was retiring soon and had put many years into the business, but still expected excellence. A true balancer of discipline, hard work, and fun. Other than himself, there were some older employees and a cohort of younger ones who worked in the Cameras and Stock section. They helped me ease into the position and taught me the ropes of the day to day routine. At first, it was great making a bit of money, but I soon could not stand entering those doors and working. Since the Cloverdale location was quite new, there was only a handful of customers after seven o’clock. I always worked the evening shift so it became extremely boring. Rereading magazines, wandering through the store facing aisles or pretending to look busy night after night was not fun. They gradually shifted me to work Friday and Saturday nights, which I was fine with. That is when all the trouble and activities were taking place anyway, so it kept me outside of it. Sure, I missed some events and it felt like the end of the world sometimes, but I would forget about those things after a few days. I realized working there was a good foundation for gaining some experience, so I continued until shortly after graduating.
My life was quite routine now. School required most of my time as I was constantly completing assignments, doing projects, and writing tests for ten months of the year. Baseball and soccer still filled most of the gaps year round, while friends, family, summer trips, and hobbies rounded out the rest of it. Grade twelve, which kicked off with the grad camp out, was such a great year for me. I cannot remember where this idea of an overnight camp out before classes commenced originated from, but everyone was on board. Cars, food, liquor, music, games and sleeping gear were the essentials. After catching up and watching friends beer bong and shotgun for a few hours, I remember seeing a car moving towards the gate on the street above the school. It was well past sunset and I could not make out the side decals in the dark. The gate had been left open, so the car proceeded to snake down the driveway towards us as we were in the back part of the lot. It turned out to be this hero of a security guard who then stopped, got out of his car, and stood by his door. As nearly fifty of us were there, it was a pretty risky move. We semi-circled around the front of the car as he was telling us to keep the noise down, or the cops would be phoned. Let me tell you, that is exactly what a group of drunk teenagers wanted to here. A nice rain cloud just appeared over our parade and the chirps started flying at this unfortunate fellow. As I peered back over my right shoulder, I saw a buddy toss a full, medium-sized coke bottle up into the air. It landed on the windshield and exploded all over the car showering everywhere. This was immediately followed by other beer cans. The security guard scrambled inside and instantly got on his phone. We knew our night was going to be over, but at least it was on our terms. Welcome to grade twelve. My mindset for that year was to stack my first semester with the tougher classes so I could enjoy my final spring at Tweedsmuir. I took Biology, Math, English, and a spare in the fall and did quite well. At one point in Biology, I almost had the same grade as one of the brains of my grad year. We were hovering around ninety-nine percent when our teacher switched the seating arrangement and sat us at the same table. Everyone in the class complained and made jokes because it seemed so unfair. A lot of kids did not want to put in their best effort, and instead, fancied the easy road of piggybacking off the most disciplined students. The bell curve of work ethic was very noticeable in high school. Some people were natural overachievers while others did not care about attending class or even passing. There would be kids with nearly fifty absences or more some years. I found that mind-boggling as it was something I did not see the point in. Ironically enough, further down the road in my academic career, I found myself in this space as well, replicating all the things I looked down upon at this stage. But, in comparison to completing a degree, and life in general, high school is quite easy. Teachers would really care for and help students any way they could. From holding after-school meetings to being an ear to vent to, they were there. Now, I completely understand that every student had a unique set of challenges and hurdles to overcome, but there were multiple resources and outreaching hands to pull people along the road towards success at Tweedsmuir. For some, a lack of care, discipline, and effort led to a quick downward spiral.
I had a habit of becoming consumed by topics I found rather interesting and as the first semester came to a close, I was obsessed with grad pranks. When I saw thousands of bouncy balls thrown into the cafeteria with notes from the ’09 grad class, I had this wild vision of being the mastermind behind the greatest grad prank in Tweedsmuir history. I watched countless YouTube videos and brainstormed how something like packing peanuts dumped chest high in the office or hiding hundreds of synced alarm clocks to go off in the ceiling during class could be orchestrated. I had some pretty good ideas, but I did not have the manpower or logistics to undertake a project of that scale. There were also bigger roadblocks such as security cameras, after hour janitors, and finding a way to stay overnight at school to plan, document, and survey what could be accomplished. After a while, I came to the conclusion that the thought of pulling off a prank was more fun than risking my academic career and following through with it. I let the rest of the boys get caught streaking and attempt to stockpile old produce from Pricesmart in someone’s house who lived close by. I believe they wanted to start a food fight, but the lack of secrecy shot that plan down before it could get off the ground. Anywho, the year went along and on Christmas break, I got a taste of working full days at London Drugs. The thought of working there forever absolutely terrified me, so I decided it was best I run in the other direction. I kept telling myself that that chapter of my life was coming to a close and it was an exciting thought. I could not wait for that last spring at Tweedsmuir, I wanted to make the best of it. During the semester break in late January, I got an invite to a party that some of my buddies were going to. Every other time I would decline because I worked both weekend nights, but I figured with one semester left, I had to live the stories I had been hearing on Monday morning. I got my mom to drop me off there after work and I was introduced to the typical high school house party that night. There was so much I did not know. I realized, like having an early birthday, or a last name near the beginning of the alphabet, kids who had older siblings were at a massive advantage. They could get their hands on alcohol and there was a ton of it there. No one at that age knows how to drink responsibly so when I showed up, half the party was extremely drunk. People were stumbling around, yelling out their favourite lyrics, mowing down food, and just being belligerent in general. Quite the zoo in my opinion. After a while, I ended up having a few shots out of curiosity and some good peer pressure. So many kids drank, what was the big deal. Half an hour later, I felt first hand what everyone had been talking about over the years. My thought process was carefree, it was like the walls around my brain were removed and I would say whatever came to mind. Or, as if I just unlocked some sort of superpower that made me feel invincible. I was amazed at the power of alcohol. Who I was vastly changed and that was alarming to me. I stayed at a friend’s place that night because to a first timer, even that minuscule amount hit like a truck. That was the kickoff point for my final spring at Tweedsmuir and I could not have been happier over those last four months. Cruising down for Whopper Wednesday and coming back late to third block, hanging out in the parking lot during lunch with the boys, and being on a personal level with teachers was the norm. I would argue that the administration enjoyed ’11 as much as we did. I barely gave a thought as to what I would do after graduation because I really did not believe June would ever come. My semester was on the easier side and it allowed me to live stress-free. Cafeteria, Physics, P.E., and Chemistry, that was it! I had time to zip into the Marketing class to play Age of Empires, or bot on Runescape with Will and Doug. It was incredibly chill. Senior year P.E. was based around field trips with indoor days if it rained. It was a dream playing dodgeball against the younger grades. I got kicked out so many times that year for headshots I lost count. I always had a problem with keeping the ball low. As May rolled around, the talk of the town slowly shifted to the annual Cloverdale Rodeo. For someone born and raised here, it was one of the highlights of the year. Now add that to a seventeen-year-old senior in high school who just started drinking, well, it was life. Before it got popular throughout Metro Vancouver, it was just a Tweedsmuir and Clayton thing. I remember that year quite vividly as I puked and rallied before I even hit the entrance gates on Friday night. It was nothing out of the ordinary as the goal was to get on the verge of being thrown in the drunk tank on the walk down anyways. This is another topic I could spend a lifetime on, but for those who experienced Rodeo, you know. You know that it was a complete circus within those grounds. I am talking about the most hyped pre-drinks with country shredding the speakers, great weather, the ultimate booze-filled walk down to the gates, and finding out the stamp colour to negate paying. Not to mention the sloppy make outs, living life in the center of the mosh, skipping the Longhorn line, and turning McDonald’s into a frat party afterward. God, I would have been hard-pressed to work that weekend for fifty dollars an hour let alone minimum wage. Those employees were the true heroes as they put up with an unspeakable amount of abuse. Good times with good people and the rest they say is history, I will leave it at that. Only one event remained before I walked out of Tweedsmuir forever: crossing the stage. The professionalism of convocation at the Performing Arts Centre really struck me. Listening to the speeches, watching the ceremony, and receiving awards was quite the experience. Sitting up on that stage looking out into the crowd of siblings and parents allowed me to reflect back on the journey that I had embarked on long ago. I did not want to accept it at the time, but slowly creeping into my mind were thoughts of moving on, and stepping out into the world to challenge whatever lay on the road ahead. Step 1 was complete.
PART III: the path
When I was first exposed to thinking about a future career, which was in tenth grade, I was dead set on being a police officer. The forensic side of the job intrigued me. As time went on, that thought faded out of my mind like the ending scene of a feature film. It just evaporated. I guess I lost the desire somewhere along the way. By the end of high school, I had no idea what I wanted to pursue. I had applied to a few local institutions and even though I did not know what to study, I knew I was too academically driven to not obtain a degree. There was never a doubt in my mind that one day I would walk around this planet with a Bachelor in some subject. How I went about achieving that is definitely not a linear story. Before I started that ordeal, I had thought sporadically about the trades, like electrical, plumbing or millwright, but I felt that everyone I knew, whether it be family or friends, knew someone that did that for a living. To me, those jobs were like white-tailed deer, critical to ecosystem stability, but far too common. I wanted to pursue something out of the ordinary that had a level of mysteriousness to it, like a jaguar or a snow leopard. A sector where the average person had little to no knowledge was what I was after and I needed to take that critical first step. So, I quit London Drugs, bought my first car, and headed off to Kwantlen to see what post-secondary was all about. Sitting down in my first Physical Geology class, I became fascinated with the processes of the Earth. From how rocks form and the minerals associated with them that require extensive chemistry and delicate amounts of pressure and heat to emerge, to the intricate nature of volcanism, hydrology, and elemental cycling that weaves its course throughout the subsurface and the biosphere, I was hooked. Many people seem too caught up in their own lives to give thought to the processes, but this planet is such a beautiful complexity. The laboratory is the globe and taking textbook theory into the vastness of the field is quite something. Decades of future research, experimentation, and modeling are needed to uncover all of the geographical and geological workings on Earth. More importantly, the professor who taught the course I was in had such enthusiasm and passion for the subject it was contagious. I will never forget his name because without him, I do not know if I would have developed such an attraction to geoscience. That semester moved forward and I was considering some options down the road. Geological Engineering at UBC? Maybe. Vancouver Island University? Maybe. Elsewhere? Possibly. As ’12 came around, I had a decent idea of what I wanted to pursue, but my number one priority was being social and it led to what I consider the worst year of my life. Do not worry boys, those Thursday night poker nights still hold some of the funniest moments on record. In other areas at this time, not so much. By January, I was taking calculus and computer programming in my second Kwantlen semester to prep for transferring down the road, but Friday and Saturday nights were of higher priority. I was always worried about where the next party was, drinking, and having fun. In other words, being young, dumb, and not focusing on the important things. My savings from London Drugs were starting to dry up and I got a C on my first math midterm which propelled me to make the logical decision of dropping out. This feeling of not caring about school was starting to build inside of me and it would plague me until my second last year of undergrad. So there I was, in the first week of February, a fresh college dropout with no job and about six hundred dollars to my name. Terrible situation, but, Mac Miller was playing downtown at the Vogue that weekend and my cousin knew a friend having a huge after party at his family’s penthouse in Yaletown. You bet your ass I was going. There was no way in hell I would be missing out on an event like that. This was routine behaviour for me. Get lit up on the weekends, find my way home at noon the next day, and accomplish nothing. Combine that with staying up half the night gaming, sleeping in until one o’clock on weekdays, and I was stagnating fast. I knew this is not where I wanted to be in life, yet I kept this up for some time. Getting harassed by my parents about finding something to do was annoying, but I knew they were right. Later that March I ended up taking a job with an old soccer teammate’s dad that kept in touch with my old man. It was a start; a step in the right direction for me to get back into a solid lifestyle. I helped him with his farm, his self-storage business, and odd jobs like dropping off items to be sold at the auction. He was a tough, hard-working kind of guy. I learned a lot about his life and how he operated daily. I gained some much-needed perspective. Now, I did not want to do what he did for a living, but he reinforced what was important in life. One day we were piling up some fence posts in a wheelbarrow and he told me to point it in the direction you wanted to go after as it made your life easier later. I had to learn simple things like that because I really had no outside labour experience. It dawned on me that half the battle was learning to work smarter, not harder. I worked alongside him for a month or two and then a new opportunity arose. A fellow who rented land for his container business from the guy I worked for also had a side fencing gig. He needed a labourer so I started working with him. Building fence, hauling sections, and wheeling cement around was a step up in the effort department let me tell you. Even the sunny days where we only worked eight hours were tough. Never mind the eleven plus hour, rain-filled days we would work to finish jobs on time. My table saw, nail gun, and other general work skills that would be useful later in life definitely improved. The money also fuelled my weekend outings so I was content. The year I was having emotionally so far was like a rollercoaster, low valleys with high peaks. My May long weekend camping trip was an exact midpoint of those two. The point of highest slope for those of you that remember math. A bunch of us planned to head up to my buddy’s cabin area on Stump Lake that year. We convoyed up the entire way, it was a perfect day for a drive up the Coq. Veering onto the dirt road entrance we linked up with Doug and everyone was honking madly, clearly fired up. I was trailing Nol’s Tacoma and trying to see through that thick dust cloud was like taking a time machine back to Operation Desert Storm. I could not see a thing and then all of a sudden I smoked my undercarriage on a cattle guard and the jarring impact indicated something may have been damaged. We stopped to open a fence gate further along and we noticed my car had left a clear oil path down the road. I had cracked my oil pan and ruined my alignment. To make a long story short, we had a blast that weekend partying under the stars, exploring, shooting, and reminiscing on old times. I ended up staying at Doug’s in Vernon while my car got repaired. Five days and a thirteen hundred dollar invoice later, I finally got back home.
Later on, I had heard a few buddies and acquaintances I knew had been hired at one of the nearby golf courses. I had golfed since early on in my life and thought that working at a course would be a pretty awesome job. Some of the perks sounded nice, shifts ended early in the day, and I loved the sound of free golf. My dad had taken me to the Greater Vancouver Open they used to host years ago and my Uncles took me out to play there once or twice. I threw out an email with my resume to the Superintendent and continued fencing while I played the waiting game. I realized later that they hired for the summer season and I had missed the initial hiring period. I would resend emails every two weeks as I still saw the ad on Craigslist and kept positive. In the meantime, Will had approached me with a wild idea. His Uncle and Aunt lived in Calgary and he had got the go-ahead to cruise out there for a week, stay with them, and experience the Stampede. I was immediately down to go, so we told our parents and bosses we would be away and started packing. We still played Xbox with Doug at this point and touched base with him about going. Vernon was basically on the way, we could make a pit stop, stay the night, and take him with us. He thought about it and decided he was in too. I was a little worried about driving halfway across the province with three people as I had my N, but we just needed to make across the Alberta border and we would be home free. I was good at rationalizing even the dumbest ideas. It was a beautiful drive, especially to someone with an interest in geoscience like me. Roger’s Pass is quite something and I got a new appreciation for the topography of B.C. as we emerged out of Banff to what seemed like endless miles of rolling hills. Calgary was near. What ensued was one of the wildest weeks of my life. Will’s Uncle had been the President of the Stampede in previous years so he hooked us up with free passes, VIP lanyards, and the whole works. It was unbelievable. We explored the town and took it easy the first day on the grounds. I remember we entered the grandstands to watch the chuck wagons and our passes got us down to the front row. People were greeting us and shaking our hands, it was crazy. As excited as I was, I had to remember we were there on behalf of someone who held a high reputation. Respect came first, we had another six nights to hit the piss hard anyways. The second night we met up with some buddies from Clayton who made the trip and bar hopped around before hitting Nashville North. Now that place was alive. We snuck into Cowboys, hit the casino, and just enjoyed ourselves in a new city without a care in the world. To condense, it was unreal. We met some crazy girls, I won eleven hundred dollars in an hour playing poker, we had a few late night Chinese food trips with Will’s cousin, and we utilized the movie theatre as a pre-drink of all places. To this day, the name of the movie we watched eludes me. It was one of those anything was in the cards kind of trips we probably will never do again. Good times.
After returning back to regular life, I got a call from the golf course and the superintendent wanted me to come in for an interview. A week later I got the job and so began one of the best summer employments I could have ever asked for. It was a total paradise with a bunch of guys I knew. That year I worked through the summer and into November as I still was not ready to return to school. I met my first girlfriend that fall, which opened up a whole new world of experience and responsibility. Relationships were quite foreign to me so I learned a lot quickly. I was happy, but I still had some itching desire to move away for school. That was something I really wanted to do. I was back in Kwantlen for the start of ’13, but I was actively searching for places to go. I settled on UNBC in Prince George for a few reasons. First, it was small with only about fifty-five hundred undergrads and I liked the feeling of a tight-knit community. Secondly, the campus was way up on the hill that overlooked the city. It backed onto true wilderness and I had heard stories of moose walking through the campus, which I thought was amazing. Lastly, I only knew one person who studied there. I did not want to follow the herd, I wanted to forge an experience on my own. Once I got accepted for residence, I instantly made the decision to go and dropped out of Kwantlen again which was a really bad decision. I should have finished that semester and transferred those credits, which would have saved me some money and time down the road. I worked at the golf course again that summer and met a very influential person who had a significant impact on my life. In terms of maturity and taking life seriously, I was light years behind her. I had lots to learn and while we got close over the summer, she knew the importance of going away and having an experience I was about to undergo, so she let me go enjoy myself in Prince George. That is exactly what I did. I shared a dorm with three roommates and met some really good friends during that time. It was easily the wildest and most exciting eight-month stretch I had had in my life. Temperatures plummeted to negative thirty-five degrees and there were a lot of late nights and outrageous activities over the course of the year. I would not trade a second of it for anything in the world. Up there I stumbled upon what I actually wanted to pursue long term too. During an environmental talk given by a former student, the acronym APEG (Association of Professional Engineers and Geoscientists) was mentioned several times. I had no idea what this was, but one skill you learn in university is to tune in when something is repeated. Usually, it is of importance. After some research, I realized this was how to become a Professional Geoscientist within the province. These were the people that signed off on projects, worked for big mineral exploration companies, and led the government in terms of resources, research projects, and mapping. I knew I had to pursue such accreditation if I wanted to make an impact in the world. There was only one problem, UNBC did not have ninety-five percent of the courses required to apply. That is when I made the decision to finish my studies at SFU so I would be much closer to this goal by graduation. So, my one year of fun concluded. It was a success in many aspects: I was leaving a far more mature person, as I learned a lot about myself living away, and more importantly, I was leaving with a goal, a vision for my future.
By the ’14 summer, I had hopes of working for the city as it was known to be the best student summer job around. Unfortunately, I did not get my Class 5 license in time and never received a look (I got in during the ’16 summer). I ended up working for a custom home building company and did all sorts of labour tasks for the site superintendent. Near the end of August, I had watched a house evolve from excavation to the interior designing stage. The transformation is truly amazing. All the different trades come and go, each adding their specific components to the end product. From siders, drywallers, garage door installers, to electricians, plumbers, and everyone in between, it is like a puzzle that is slowly being completed. It was a good job for the resume. I added some skills and equipment operation which would make me more well rounded for the future. Fall came, and it was time to start the long road to completing my degree in Physical Geography and also completing the Environmental Geoscience stream of APEG. What many people do not realize is that APEG has its own specific list of courses they require for you to apply independently of the degree you are pursuing. It is not required for employment but it opens more doors for career paths. Most of the academic advisors have a basic idea of the framework, but you are pretty much on your own to make sure you complete the required courses correctly. If not, you are looking at more time and more money. I am not going to go into detail about my time at SFU because it was a very cyclical lifestyle. The synopsis is that one hundred and twenty credits can take a significant amount of time to complete. Some very determined folks can get it done in three and a half years, where others take four, five, six, and even more. There is no right way to do it. Life decisions can get in the way, travel can play a priority as well, but I knew I was locked in to get it done. A lot of students transit to SFU, and for the most part, I went to class, studied, and went home. I met a few good friends that I will have for a long time and that is all I needed there. I moved out again during my second year and at one point, I almost got kicked out of the university as my habits of not caring about education returned. I tried running on pure genetic gifts and little to no hard work. It is a bad way of going about things and I definitely do not recommend it when more effort is required. At some point, somewhere, you will get crushed. I was basically handed a second chance and I thank that person greatly because deep down, I knew I was better than that. By graduation, I had improved immensely and finished on the Dean’s list. I was proud of my turn around and that accomplishment felt good inside. All it took was a rearranging of my priorities. In Spring ’18, I finished my degree in what I thought was the best way possible: geographic field school. It was a twelve-day field trip to Kelowna and it contained aspects of every course I had taken in my program. We looked at topographic drainage divides, mapped soil boundaries, traversed glacial landforms, interpreted bedrock, hiked up to rockfalls, and did some meteorological data analysis. I loved it. People have no clue how hard it is to gather data, set up equipment, and interpret the environment. Researchers go astronomical lengths to bring the world new studies and scientific updates. The trip was capped off by a self-driven project in a river valley region west of Summerland. My buddy Alex and I chose to look at how a glacial outburst flood may have transported massive boulders down the valley during the retreat of the Cordilleran Ice Sheet. Our research was promising and our professor at the time told us he would include our work as a source if he came back to study the region at a later date. That was cool. On graduation day, I could finally take a step back and smile. It was a day I will never forget and another part of my journey was finished. Hard work, time management, determination, consistency, and the will to learn make up the ink on that piece of paper and no one can take that away from me. I used to think people were arrogant by displaying their credentials in their house, but I will be hanging that one. I found new empathy once I finished. It is a testament to one’s dedication. Just like other accomplishments that require significant effort, everyone would have one if it was easy. I took a heavily zigzagged path, but Step 2 was finally complete.
Part IV: the frontier
So, that brings me to the present day. Right now. June 18th, ‘19. As I sit here and think, a lot about me has changed and sometimes it is tough to know where that began. However, some things do remain the same. I still enjoy watching Tiger and the Eagles on TV. I will forever stop and watch a large chunk of Saving Private Ryan when it is on. My knowledge and interest in sports is something that will never leave. Knowing the minute details of soccer, baseball, football, golf, hockey, and so on are a part of my life. My curiosity regarding the world and human history will always remain. To be honest, it has probably gotten stronger. Besides that, I am different. I have evolved and what I find valuable these days has changed. I remember a buddy mentioning that even though we are young, he treats goodbyes as if it just may be the last time he sees you. I thought about it for a while and realized that that statement holds some weight. I think about it at my extended family gatherings. Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter, I tend to take a moment and just be glad that everyone is still there. The older ones especially. I never used to. It was all about racing back to the computer or getting outside again to continue activities when I was younger. Now, I rarely leave the table. Getting to eighty is no guarantee and as more inch closer to and surpass that number in my family, I remind myself to listen to their stories while they are here. It is a gold mine of knowledge, experience, and wisdom. One day that will not be the case. A day that I hope is far into the future because I enjoy their time. I get emotional when I think about those things. I know I will be more prepared, but never fully ready to face those days. Today, I am more collected, more calculated, and more regimented. I am sure my friends can attest to that. Probably less fun too. I have my eyes set on further changes in the future that will make me even less fun anyway, so I laugh. A few months ago, I finished reading the Steve Jobs biography and there was a time where he traveled to India and became fond of a Hindu saying that states: “In the first thirty years of your life you make your habits. For the last thirty years of your life, your habits make you.” That seems to bear fruit often if you take a look around at people close to you. I try to refine mine often. I know the type of person I want to be years down the road and I have picked the aspects of life I want to focus on until my clock stops. I like the thought of maximizing my potential and here is how I go about doing that. For one, I hold extreme perspective close to my heart on a daily basis. Almost all of it comes from reading. I overheard a conversation one time where someone said something along the lines of reading is useless or a waste of time. I always refer back to the answer my dad gave to me when I asked him about people who do not listen to Pink Floyd. He said: “It is fine if people do not listen to them, but they are missing an opportunity to hear some of the best music ever created.” Reading is similar. It is fine if you do not read, but you are squandering away an opportunity to become a more understanding human being. It is not because I am trying to be superior, tough, or any other applicable word. It is because the events and lessons in books act as a constant reminder for me to keep moving forward. I have Iraq and Antarctica on my weather app as saved locations because when it warms up here I understand that NATO soldiers are rucking around one-hundred pounds of gear fighting terrorism in forty-five-degree heat. When it dips below zero, I try to imagine the men of the freezing sixth German Army in Stalingrad, where it got so cold that diesel fuel froze, fighting to live. Or, the helpless soldiers in the cold wasteland of Verdun in December of 1916. The Germans opened the fight firing over a million artillery rounds in one hour. As the concussed French went back to their positions, they were met with flamethrowers, grenades, and bayonets. You want horrifying, go take a look there. The unbelievable internal will to live. To survive. Now that is powerful. The important part I take away is that my hardships are not even one-millionth of a percent as challenging as those faced by others. Life becomes far easier. I visit the darkness of the world occasionally, past or present, to keep me humble and driven. There is nothing like history, especially military history, for learning. Many other events are penciled into my brain for reference and they are like little bookmarks or reminders when necessary. They will never leave my mind as real people experienced such times and that is what I find truly powerful. We are capable of so much and I guess I realize that we live in a relatively peaceful time and I do not want to waste it by just existing. I am very hard on myself in many aspects of life and I feel that if I am not spending my time actively learning or creating, such as this post, I am stagnating. I tend to explain it in a way that parallels the quote about Rome not being built in a day. It is easy to get complacent and comfortable after a milestone of any kind. Time to ease off the pedal, or coast so to speak. Soon, everything you have built starts to wither. It may be silt-sized at first and not very noticeable, little flecks here and there, but minutes turn to hours, days turn to weeks and that crumbling increases to a point five years down the road where the foundation cracks. Rome was not built in a day, true. What is also true is that it did not collapse in one either. The easy road leads to destruction over time. Maybe not today, or next week, but I am terrified of that outcome so my discipline remains intact most days. I am not perfect, I never will be. I do have bad days, but I ask myself every day how I can improve in some facet. Whether it is writing, acquiring perspective and knowledge through podcasts and scientific articles or learning new mobility drills, I try to create a constant upward trajectory of becoming better than the day before. There are always other skills to acquire and personal weaknesses to work on. That brings up certain factors that either positively or negatively affect that outlook for me and there are a few. The single, most clear negative action I still have in my life is easy: drinking. If you could graph my consumption from the time I started until now, it is fairly regressive with the peak at around twenty to twenty-one years old and trending down towards zero today. Looking at the past year, I would estimate that I drink maybe once a month or even less on average. Most people would say that is excellent, but I am aiming for none. It is the single worst mistake I have ever made in my life. I lived seventeen years without it, began at the tail end of high school, and continued through university because that was what people did. I am realizing that I do not need it as I progress. It does not correlate with waking up early, being active, productive, or healthy so it must be removed from my equation. Do not get me wrong, I will be the first to say drinking is a great deal of fun, but those things I listed previously outweigh it now. I will keep you posted as the date I have envisioned for quitting is now on the horizon. Now, for the positives, but first, some context. A few years ago, I realized that even if I was watching Game of Thrones, hanging out at the Vancouver Canadians game, or driving, I would be thinking about potential. I have come to accept that that state of mind is basically a constant occurrence. Besides sleep, only two aspects of my life allow me to take true mental breaks: golf and exercise. When I find myself on the course, which is often during this time of year, the only thing that matters is the next shot. I will approach the first tee and life just switches off. No stress, no distractions, just a sharp focus on understanding where the wind is playing, where the hazards are, selecting the right club, visualizing the shot, and executing the way I know I can. For days at home, I keep my putter and a few balls in my room to practice putting down my hallway. If I need a five-minute break from something, that is what I do because it gives me that release. All I worry about is replicating my posture, my set-up routine, and making solid contact through the golf ball. I work on ’feeling’ the distance of an eight-footer versus a fifteen-footer and so on. A lot of pros talk about this and you will definitely hear Tiger mention it. Next time you see him on the green, watch his routine and especially his eyes. On his two practice strokes, he is looking at the hole and getting a feel for what stroke is required. Even though golf is zen-like to me, it is a hobby that I can fine-tune and improve at until the day I cannot physically play anymore. Exercise is in the same vein. It clears my mind and I try to incorporate some aspect of it every day. The key is to never fall out of sync as it is easier to maintain than to restart. Momentum in the right direction can be game-changing. Great days include a full workout and one to two hours of stretching. Off days, or poor ones may just be some light imbalance stuff, rotator cuff strengthening, and one-hundred jumping jacks. Also, the physical and mental wellness benefits are numerous and have been well documented (in general people are happier, have more self-esteem, but do not quote me on the literature). I definitely feel better afterward, so it is a habit that has no end in sight. Currently, my ankle injury limits me to almost no explosive lower body activity. Running is also a bad idea. I have a tear in my peroneal tendon, which runs down from the outer lower leg muscles, wraps around the ankle bone, and attaches to the outer mid-foot region. At this point, surgery is the only fix, so I have accepted that. I do what I can while I wait. Once again, there are veterans who had legs blown off who still get after it. Go look up Jody Mitic or Rob Jones, their stories are powerful. A little ankle injury sucks, but it is not the end of my world. It has made me appreciate my athletic days more and I have realized that being in good health is such an amazing thing. When I am fully healed I have my eyes set on jiu-jitsu, boxing, getting into backpacking and orienteering in the woods along with other things. That is where I currently sit in this fast-moving world. This personal train of mine keeps moving forward. Some days it feels like ten metres and other days it seems like one centimetre. Those grind it out type of days are when my own version of jet fuel comes in handy. Music is that fuel. Like the opening scene in 2 Fast 2 Furious, where Paul Walker hits the nitrous before the bridge and his peripheral vision blurs out, he enters a slipstream of acceleration and is going so fast that the only path that remains clear is the one directly in front of him. That is what hardcore/metal music replicates within me. It lights my train tracks on fire, blurs out the seemingly endless distractions, and allows me to focus on things of primary importance. A great book once told me to prioritize and execute. I guess it helps. Now, one does not start listening to bands like Mors Principium Est, Anterior, Children of Bodom, and Darkest Hour overnight. All of this started when I received my first MP3 player, which had room for five songs. I was nine or so at the time and my enormous playlist consisted of Crazy Train by Ozzy, Panama by Van Halen, TNT by ACDC, Burnin’ For You by Blue Oyster Cult, and Black Betty by Ram Jam. I was so infatuated with the tone of the guitar in Crazy Train that I never thought anything could top it, so I never looked. At twenty-one, I finally asked myself the ultimate question: Is there something out there that replicates the tingly excitement I get from that guitar sound? Something perhaps even uglier and more powerful? How ignorant of me to close the doors on what I now believe is the greatest musical realm in existence, before I even peered inside. Down the ladder I went into a world of unknown, unsure what to expect. Some adjusting was necessary at first, but I have fallen in love with what I have discovered. It feels like I was born to listen and jam out here. I remember Joe Rogan had James Hetfield from Metallica on his podcast a while back and asked him why they keep playing. After almost forty years, what keeps them going to create new music? Why keep striving when the highest of heights have been reached? His reply was simple, stating that there is always a better sounding riff, a better chorus, or a better solo to craft inside the studio. At that moment, I realized that I had a similar feeling. There is always another band out there and another song that is more powerful that I have not heard yet. A never-ending quest for more.
I think that last line sums up how I operate in music, and more importantly, in life. It provides a point to end the story so far. A solid checkpoint. What is beyond today I do not know, but I have a pretty good idea as to where I am headed over the course of the next year or so. I have found it is important to continually adjust your sights from the short term to the long term and back again. That way, it is easier to keep focused on all goals. This summer, I have an opportunity to add some depth to my resume. I took a Research Assistant position at Douglas College working under the Institute of Ecology executive professor. I will be helping on a coastal ecology project involving ground beetles and their habitat diversity. In my spare time, I have set a goal to learn Python 3 and RStudio from scratch. Python is a computer programming language and R is an open source statistical computing language. Both will be beneficial in the geoscience world as modeling software is becoming more standard. At some point, I want to build and maintain my own website as well. My final three APEG courses will be completed by next summer and if everything works out I may be able to complete a post-degree diploma in Geological Resources at the same time. It would be a nice bonus and having more credentials never hurts. Continuous networking is key along the way and I am confident the world has a spot for me as a geoscientist somewhere. Once all that is done, I will explore my options and some big decisions will be necessary. A wrench could be thrown into my plan depending on when my ankle surgery is, but I will assess that when the day comes. Nothing ever goes according to plan anyway, life would be too easy without struggle and randomness. Rehab will be a tough road and I am already prepared to be at the Athletic Park every morning running three cones and ladder drills. If I can get back to ninety or ninety-five percent health and operate like I used to, I have my eyes set on a massive, potentially life-altering goal. It has been on my mind for as long as I can remember and if I do not even take a crack at it, I will most likely regret it for the rest of my life. Part of me believes that if enough dedication is put in, genetic predispositions aside, I can accomplish almost anything. Why limit myself? Why stop at a certain tier of accomplishment or success? Why not go for it all? The worst case scenario is only a temporary failure. Challenges? Hurdles? Good, I will put them to the test. King Leonidas said something similar defending the hot gates at the Battle of Thermopylae. Three hundred of them stood awaiting the Persian Immortals. Spartans were one tough bunch. So, the next time your hand crosses the left-centre of your chest for any reason, remember that internal engine beating. As long as that continues, there is always more to give and despite any circumstance, you are never out of the fight. I see and acknowledge those last seven words of the previous sentence every day. They resonate deep and end off an important phrase that is highlighted on my cork board. As I step forward with a purpose down this path, I smile and take the time to peer back over my shoulder, reflecting on what got me here. It has been a great run so far, but, I turn back and carry on, adjusting my hat so it sits a little tighter and turning my music up slightly so I am a little more focused. The future awaits and there is more work to do.
For now,
MGW