Canada Or Broke (Or Both)

Chapter 22. Blogger.com thought this was a spam blog! :o)

2006-11-19T18:53:00.000Z

Viagra - Increase Your Penis Size By 9 Metres In 15 Minutes!

Well, it's a lazy Sunday afternoon in Toronto, and I'm sitting here eating After Eights (mint ones, you can't get the orange ones here), organising my iTunes library and my thoughts.

This was always meant to be a blog about one man's courageous struggle to get to Canada and save himself from madness. As such, I considered shutting it down. In fact, the lovely people at blogger.com threatened to do it unless I let them know - they thought it was a spam site! You know, the type that sit there for ages not being updated advertising something like "GAIN 2 INCHES IN 2 WEEKS!!!!" (my friend always got these emails and commented 'I think I'm tall enough already, thanks'). Maybe I should wind up the blogger people? Let's try it...

Viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra viagra.

Hehehe.

Cobob's Random Meandering Thoughts Of The Day (At Least 40% New Content)

Anyway. Cobob's Thought Of The Day today is about Emotional Baggage. I've been thinking a lot about this over the last few days.

A good few years back, I went through a very messy breakup. I've probably already mentioned this, and I won't bore you with the details (I'm pretty sure I've already bored too many people with the details!), but it's something that pops back into my mind occasionally. A number have things have brought this girl into my mind recently. She's still in Bristol, and she's now really successful, and as far as I know things are going very well with her current boyfriend, who she picked up shortly after our split. I wish her all the best in the world, really I do.

The thing is, this breakup has had a huge effect on my view of relationships. I am what I think is termed on DSM IV a "commitmentphobe". The problem is, for much of my life I've compared every relationship I've had to The One That Got Away. Which is, to anyone who would care to consider it, a grossly unfair thing to do for many reasons.

Say you're back this way again, winter's one breath away

For one, I was very young. Love when you are young is a new, exciting thing. A friend of mine and I used to call it 'vibes'. It was a play on getting good 'vibes' whenever someone you liked was around. It was our lingo essentially for 'butterflies'. Whether I'm a cynical old hack now is a point for another time, but I think that some of these butterflies come from the novelty of the situation. When you've been through a number of relationships, as I have, this feeling becomes almost non-existent. Not because you care less about the person you're with, but as time goes on, your feelings manifest them in other ways. Like choosing soft-furnishings together. Apparently. Nothing terrifies me more than picking out cushions with someone in Ikea on a Saturday. Not least because Ikea is what I imagine pergatory to be like.

The problem with butterflies is that Hollywood uses them to manipulate the audience's idea of love. Watch Moulin Rouge and compare the intensity of love in that film to any of your relationships. Unless you're extremely lucky (or unlucky, depends on your point of view), none of your relationships would come close to the intensity of the writer and the courtesan. Hollywood (and Celine Dion) would have us believe in society that love is some collossal force that runs the universe. Well, I'd love to believe that, and I once did, but now I don't know. And it's a thought that keeps popping up again. And I think that when we look back over how we felt in relationships, especially ones where we're young and new to it all, we remember the butterflies, but we apply the hollywood mentality to them. We think "I felt that way because I was in love, properly in love, and that must mean she was the one". We don't think rationally and think "Yes, I loved that person, but perhaps I felt the butterfiles because it was new and exciting to me at the time". I haven't come to any conclusions you'll be disappointed to hear, dear reader, but it makes comparisons with current relationships to Ones That Got Away slightly unfair if we listen to Celine Dion (which no-one should, obviously).

Every face on every bus is you and me and him and her

Another reason why comparisons to The One That Got Away are unfair is simply because of the type of eyewear we sport when reminiscing. These days when you can get two pairs of rose tinted spectacles for the price of one from Specsavers (and in under an hour), the picture we paint of the past would be a very different image from the camcorder reality. A classic example is this. Annie (as we'll call her) and I went to Cornwall to stay in her parents' shack (it wasn't really a house per se). The disparity between What I Remember and What I've Missed Out is stark.

I remember a barbecue on a secluded beach with her, putting the sausages in seawater to keep them cool, then finding the shrinkwrap wasn't watertight and eating salty sausages. I remember taking a jar of sand as a souvenir. I remember playing darts in the local pub, drinking shots of Mirage for 80p a time. I remember our friend's birthday and the cake we got her.

What my memory conveniently fails to recall properly is that there was tension there. We had an argument. I can't even remember why. I can't remember whose fault it was. But I remember the tears and the sulking. But not with the same clarity as the good times. Memory plays tricks on you, it feeds your mood, and if you're one given over to bouts of blackness and depression, it tries to drag you down. Good memories, if we're not careful, can take on a harsh edge.

I've been consistently amazed about the clarity with which I can remember the good times. A George Michael track popped up on iTunes the other day, and it's one from a CD we used to put on while we went to sleep. Suddenly, every single aspect of her bedroom, the feel of her bed, the t-shirt I wore, the colour of her covers came back to me... From one single point, the whole scene suddenly exploded. From that one bed, came the rest of the house, her family, the teapot they use, the dolls house, the greeting card on the mantlepiece, the floorboards... All useless details, but ones which overwhelm my brain. Why on earth is this information useful to me now??? Surely it serves no purpose?

I'll never know why my recall of this period of my life is so detailed and so rich. Perhaps it's just because for the few years following it, I gave it more thought than any one human being should give a single subject. Perhaps it's because my brain is naturally self-destructive. I don't know. There could be a million reasons. One thing I've begun to realise is that these memories form part of our baggage in life, and it's how we deal with them that make us who we are. More on that later. ;)

Who's to know? Whatever... Whatever... Not up to me, not up to you

A third reason is probably the hardest to deal with. It was My Fault. Mea culpa. The whole thing went toes up for one reason. Infidelity. Mine. I have reasons for why I did it, but they're not excuses. But they are things that given a police box or a DeLorean, I would go back and change in a New York minute. Which means I have beaten myself into an emotionally toothless pulp on the floor time and time again over the years. Regret, like baggage, is something that defines who we are. Not by how much we have, but by how we handle it. To long so desperately, as I did in the few years that followed the break up, to be able to go back and fix it is wholly pointless and destructive. Unless I invent a Flux Capacitor, but aside from the Y-shape, I wouldn't have the first clue where to begin... So why does this make comparisons unfair? Because it's unfinished business in my mind. I still want to go back and fix it. I would still drop everything and go back in time if I could. Not because I want it back the way I once did, but more because it's simply unfinished. It's something still on my To Do list. No matter that I can never do it, no matter that I'm now happy with my life and happy with who I'm with now and who I've become. I would just like to go back and un-fuck something that went horribly wrong. I don't think that's unnatural.

If I stray away too far from you, don't go and try to find me

It doesn't mean I don't love you, it doesn't mean I won't come back and
stay beside you
It only means I need a little time
To follow that unbroken line
To a place where the wild things grow
To a place where I used to always go

So why am I writing all this? Well, I've been in Canada for 8 months now. That's 2/3 of my time gone now. My thoughts are turning to the future again. And the vast majority of my thoughts are with CA.

Now, this post may sound like I've been missing Annie loads and I've been thinking of her and hoping desperately to get her back. Did you think that? If so, you'd be wrong. You see, I came to Canada to try and sort my life out. It was a Stop The World I Want To Get Off year for me. And slowly, very very slowly, it's working. And to handle the future, sometimes you have to think about your past.

You see, with baggage, we have to carry it around with us forever. We have no choice. So, if we're going to be lugging this crap with us for the rest of our lives, we may as well use it to our advantage. And I don't want my baggage to get in the way of my relationship with CA, because she means far too much to me for me to do that. So I'm getting all of the crap out of my suitcase, glancing at it, reminiscing, and folding it a little better to give me more space for some more valuable things I want to carry with me for the rest of my life. In this case, CA.

It's not going to stop 'till you wise up

You see, I've decided that it's not the end of the world to be wrong. It's not the end of the world to devote 100% of me to someone who might turn out not to be the one. It's not the end of the world to still hold a past relationship special and to still mourn its end to a degree. It's not the end of the world to be scared about the future. It's not the end of the world to be sad about the past. When it comes down to it, it's not the end of the world if every single word written here turns out to be wrong.

It would, however, be the end of the world not to embrace and cherish someone that in any comparison, fair or unfair, knocks all the competition into a cocked hat. I'm looking forward to coming home, CA.

Chapter 21. A guilty post.

2006-07-22T07:24:00.000Z

Sorry, I just noticed I promised in Chapter 19 that Chapter 20 would be a cheerful post. Well, depending on your position*, it probably wasn't. So I felt guilty and thought I'd post a mini-chapter with a little gag I found today in a book called How To Be A Canadian. It just made me chuckle.

Q. How do you get 200 drunken Canadians out of a swimming pool?
A. Say to them "Would you mind leaving the pool, please."

* If you're a goth, enjoyed all of Placebo's albums, or both, you probably orgasmed.

Chapter 20. A somewhat cryptic entry.

2006-07-22T06:46:00.000Z

Hi all. I know it's been a long, long, long time. And you're probably wondering whether I'm lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but I'm not. I'm having a great time in TO. I've picked up the Canadian "Eh?" quite happily, I've got a fantastic job (far better than the one I left) and lots of friends. So you needn't worry.

So, why the unseasonal blog entry? Well, things started to get a little strange about 1 month ago with the whole CA situation. And to put it mildly, all hell broke loose. And I haven't quite managed to put all the evils of the world back into Pandora's box just yet.

I don't want to fill you in on the gory details, but seeing as there probably aren't any of you out there left, and I don't blame you, I thought I'd have a rare creative moment. Someone involved in the situation said they wished they were more like me, able to switch off my emotions. I can't. I can only postpone them. And I know that the decisions I've made over the last few weeks and am still making could easily come back to haunt. I'm making decisions I could easily come to regret. But I'm doing my best. I could be wrong. I could be so wrong. This picture was inspired by a Gus Gus track called "Superhuman". The lyrics...

It's not you
It's me
It's not hate
It's love for you

Sleep now love
Sleep now
There will always be failure...

I'm trying my best. I just have a horrible feeling I'm still fucking this up.

Chapter 19. Tim Henman Returns To Cobob!

2006-04-18T15:45:00.000Z

You don't wanna hang around
Said you were leaving town for the summer
At least till sundown

'Cos time ain't gonna grind you down,
ain't gonna waste your life
chasing rainbows like some clown

But who's gonna come with you tonight
Who's gonna to tell you it's alright?
Everything changes over time
Just like wine

Time ain't gonna hold you up,
Ain't going to make it stop long enough to ease your mind,
Ain't gonna make it last forever

And you...
whatcha gonna do?
Walk it solitary?
So unnecessary
But it's alright
It's your birthright

Hey, hey everything's different down the line
Everything changes over time

Time ain't gonna make it worse
It's gonna make you start feeling better
Just like wine
We're gonna make it last forever

Hey you...
Whatcha gonna do?
Just be ordinary?
So unnecessary

But it's alright
Yes it's alright
It's your birthright

It's your birthright

Magne Furuholmen - Hey, the guy writes a good lyric.

Jesus, nobody wants to read about your neuroses, dude.

Now, I hate blog entries that begin with poetry, song lyrics, etc. as much as the next non-American teenager, but it's my blog and that means my rules, ok?

So, I guess you're expecting a jolly old blog entry telling you all (well, both of you at any rate) how much fun I've been having in the colonies. And let me just ease your minds, I have been having quite a lot of fun in the colonies. I've made some friends (my new housemates, by the way, are lovely), and I've been out independent of Mr and Mrs Nipples and I've worked for four days for peanuts, but it wasn't as traumatic as I expected returning to work would be.

The only problem is that something doesn't seem right. I don't know whether it's my mind ticking away in the background asking the ubiquitous (thanks, Nick) questions. All to do with whether I made the right decision. I don't think I regret coming. I don't feel actively sad anymore. That faded a couple of weeks ago. But I think something in me is just, I don't know, out of kilter.

Let me try and describe how I feel a little bit. Imagine if you get a piece of black sugar paper, the stuff you used at primary school. It's about 9" square. Now, get the safety scissors with the rounded ends (please ask an adult to help you with this) and cut straight lines across the middle of the square, so you're left with cuts in a rough star-shape going right across the paper. Then put the palm of your hand in the middle of the paper and move the triangular bits of paper around a little. Now you have a bunch of triangular bits of paper which clearly used to tessellate but don't anymore. Well, that's how I view myself at the moment. All the constituent bits are there, they just don't seem to fit together quite the way they used to. And that's beginning to weird me out, if I'm honest.

Depression is a funny thing. It doesn't really exist. It's not like 'being sad' where you can cry and you can talk about it and you can point at the thing that's making you miserable and say "that's what I wish was different/hadn't happened/I could take back". Depression is like when you clean your TV. You dust the screen, then realise that it's had a thick layer of fuzz on it for ages. Suddenly the picture is clearer, post-dusting. But while the TV has this layer of dust, you probably don't even notice it. Things just don't look as sharp or clearly defined as they once did. And a lot of the time you don't even spot it until you can barely make out Trevor MacDonald, and that's when it takes a lot of dusting and patience to undo.

I've been depressed, properly depressed, probably twice before in my life. These were both quite a while ago. Since then, I've become pretty astute at spotting when it's stalking me. And I know it's following me at the moment. It's been following me in the form of dark blue Peugeot 306s*, but now I'm in Canada and they don't have Peugeots, I'm presuming it's travelling round in an Acura or Infiniti or one of the other silly North American lookalike cars they have here.

My doctor told me once to get lots of sunlight and eat lots of bananas to help cure (and, by extension, stave off I suppose) depression. I figure Tim Henman must be the happiest man alive during his annual two days at Wimbledon.

I figure, though, that it's all about keeping busy. Often, people with depression are advised to join a club or take up a hobby. This is often under the pretense of "you'll meet interesting people" and "broaden your horizons". Stuff and nonsense. It's actually simply to Keep You Out Of Trouble. When the mind has nothing better to do, it has a habit of keeping itself company by having a big ol' chit-chat with itself. Sometimes you can hear it, late at night while you're trying to get to sleep. That's not so bad, because you can tell it to keep the noise down because it's late and you're tired. Other times, though, I wonder whether it's having the same conversation while you're paying attention to something else, such as buying bananas. Now that's slightly more difficult to control. And that's the bit I reckon contributes to depression.

The bell is for MY benefit, not yours.

So, anyway, Psychology According To Cobob 101 over with, I might as well tell you what it relates to. Well, I still have no job. And while I have a place to live lined up for May 1st, I can't move in until then because I have no money coming in (and the money I brought with me is going to run out any day now) so I don't want money to go out any more than I have to. It's just proving a little frustrating. As you've probably gathered. And this little diatribe above is pretty much what I'm fearing is just around the corner if I don't get it sorted at some point in the near future.

Which makes this week Searching For Work (Still) Week. Or SeFoWoStWee to give it its slightly South African sounding contraction. Wish me luck!

Oh, and I promise the next entry will be a happy one. It's not that I'm not happy, I am for the most part, it's just I like to write about things as they pop into my mind. As I say, my blog, my rules. ;)

Take care of yourselves, and each other. Seriously, do.

* Don't worry, this isn't early onset schizophrenia (at least I hope it isn't), there was just a Peugeot 306 that seemed to be everywhere I went in Bristol. But seeing as I never actually remembered the number plate, it just always seemed familiar, it could have been 3 or 4 that I always saw that all seemed familiar. But if that was you in that Peugeot, and you were following me, please let me know. Thanks!

Chapter 18. Again.

2006-04-07T15:33:00.000Z

"By the way, I found your Finding Nemo plasters. They were in the fridge."

So, here’s my second attempt at making a proper blog entry. Provided this ordinateur français de portable doesn’t screw everything up again, you’ll be rewarded with a quick synopsis of my last few weeks in The Colonies.

"Apartment Hunting Season" or "What The Adverts Should Have Said"

Room To Rent on Queen St W and Rubbish St. 1 dark, damp room to let with no natural light. Smoking allowed in the flat, it helps hide the smell. To share with one large Canadian male with a dirty t-shirt and a cat that, from the smell of it, poops everywhere with impunity. Access is via an unbelieveably long staircase guaranteed to kill you if you’ve had a beer or two, via a graffiti strewn door next to a hardware store in a crap area of town with evident drugs problems. $400 per calendar month. Is what I should be paying people to live here.
Verdict: NOT TAKEN

Lovely cosy place for rent on College St, a little way out of town. 3 female housemates who, while a little Earth Mother, are really nice. 2 very cute cats. Large room with lovely sloping ceiling and large window. Excellent balcony for parties in the summer. Rent only $400 per month. Oh, but you’re not allowed to cook or even keep meat in the house. And, yes, that means you can’t have bacon sarnies on a Sunday.
Verdict: NOT TAKEN

Fort Awesome (Actually, this is how it was named on Craigslist). Share with 5 students in Fort Awesome. The awesome thing about this property is the location, right in the heart of vibrant Little Italy. Everything else about the property is less than awesome. We take student living TO THE MAX!!!!! and the house demonstrates this perfectly. Yes, there’s far more bicylces in one place than you thought possible! We’ve painted the phrase "Fort Awesome" in black emulsion on one of the walls, so you don’t forget where you are while you’re debating your suicide. The room on offer is a basement. No, not a basement room, a basement. Complete with cold concrete floors, damp smell and spiderwebs. It’s big though. The people you will be sharing with all listen to too much punk music, and two of them are actually in punk bands, as you can probably tell by the drum kits. We have great parties in the summer in our back yard which comes equipped with outdoor speakers, a random door lying on the lawn and the obligitory shopping trolley. All this student hell for only $400 per month.
Verdict: NOT TAKEN. IN A MILLION YEARS.

One large room in a really nice place quite a way out of town, but on the College streetcar route straight into town. Share a lovely place with 2 female housemates who are generous, funny and nice to a fault and two lovely cats. Unbelieveably nicely decorated front room with comfortable sofas. Friendly neighbours upstairs with another cat and a 6 month old chocolate labrador called Abby. One neighbour even uses glitter glue to advertise their open house evening. $542 per month, which is a steal.
Verdict: Brilliant, I’LL TAKE IT.

So, I’ve found a place to live. Hurrah! I’ll post some photos when I can, but if you want an idea of where I’ll be living, look here.

I also have a job lined up too. As of Monday, I’ll be doing four days at the Department of Education which should be dull, but I get to meet people! And get out of the flat! Hurrah! It’s just data entry work, but hey, I’ll take anything at the moment*. It’s only $12.18 per hour, but the agency have put me forward for a position for $30 per hour (about £15), which is more than I was earning in the UK! I’ll keep you posted.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know...

Sorry I’ve not really updated the blog in a while. In actuality, the last few weeks have been very dull. Mr & Mrs Nipples aren’t really the Going Out type any more, they’re settling into middle age pretty well, bless ‘em. So, I’ve been stuck in the house during the day for the most part, and I’ve not been going out in the evening because Mr & Mrs Nipples aren’t either. Oh, well. At least once I’ve moved out and started working, I’ll be meeting people and My Canadian Life can begin in earnest. Actually, I have a party to go to at my future home tonight, so maybe I’ll make some friends of my very own then. I’ll try and let you know how it went.

With regards to how I’m feeling at the moment, I’m up and down more than a pair of YoYos who are trying to avoid each other. Some days I feel really good about being here, and really positive. Others I wonder what the hell I’m doing here and have the almost unbearable urge to get on the next plane home. I put the latter down to two things; firstly, that I’m not really doing anything at the moment, so I’m bored out of my mind, and secondly, I miss CA pretty badly. I’m homesick in general, but I miss CA most of all. She’s been a legend even since I got here, she was really excited when I found a place to live. I’m speaking or messengering her every day, which is really nice. I want her to be a part of my life in Canada, and she’s been a huge support to me, but I’m a little preoccupied with how it will turn out long-term. I’d love to write more on the subject, but my feelings are so complicated, we’ll have to leave that for another day.

Thanks for reading. Take hair off your elves, and bleach your mother.

*Except heavy lifting, concierge work and counting people at subway stations, all of which I’ve rather naughtily turned down.

Chapter 17 - French Laptops. Expect Strong Language.

2006-04-07T14:51:00.000Z

So, I’m working on this French f***ing laptop because Mr Nipples' PC threw a wobbler because I put a f***ing USB card in it. And all the keys on this are in the wrong f***ing place. For example, the question mark is shift-6, the apostrophe is to the right of the M key, and you need to press shift too, the @ symbol is AltCar-2. What the hell? Anyway, I’d just written a really f***ing long post, and thought "I’d better save this in case it screws up". I hit ctrl-C and the whole thing wipes. What the f*** is this f***ing Fn key doing where the Ctrl key should be? And why’s it wiped my entire text? And why won’t it let me undo what I’ve just done? And what the hell is "undo" in French anyway?

Were it not for the fact that this isn’t my laptop, or even Mr Nipples’, I would defenestrate this from the 15th floor quite happily. Sadly, it’s Mr Nipples’ Mother In Law’s, so I’d better not, eh.

Don’t think I don’t want to, though. I'll put a proper entry on once I've calmed down enough.

Chapter 16: Things We've Learned So Far

2006-03-18T19:31:00.000Z

Things which are sure to be sure:

1. If St Patrick's Day falls on a Friday in Toronto, be at the pub before it opens. Otherwise you don't stand a chance of getting in.
2. The Canadians celebrate St Patrick's Day as if they were all Irish, but haven't even heard of St George's Day.
3. The smoking laws in Toronto are actually quite good for meeting people.
4. I know more of the song Sweet Home Alabama than I give myself credit for.
5. When I'm drunk, I think I can sing and consider my deep south American accent pretty passable.
6. The Polish claim to have a real animosity towards the Germans but not enough to actually be passionate about it.
7. King Ralph is a great film for when you're hungover.
8. The most evil drink in the world is Bailey's and Lime.
9. Or possibly sambuca and Tabasco.
10. Sambuca and Tabasco isn't fun the following day, either.
11. Apartments where the room has no natural light are evil, whether they have a cat or not.
12. Blogger won't let me post pictures.
13. I wish CA was here to cwtch up with me.

Chapter 15: Arrival

2006-03-16T11:38:00.000Z

"When the daylight wakes me in somewhere I don't want to be, she's my gravity..."

Well, it's 6:37 am and I've been in Canada for about 16 hours now. The last few days have been, well, a mixture of fun and rubbish.

Saying goodbye to CA was the most heart-wrenching thing I've had to do. Possibly ever. She was practically inconsolable, and I was much the same. I just hate the thought she was so upset and that it was my fault. I also can't believe that 28 hours ago, we were nicely squished up in bed, and now she's 3,550 miles away. We had some really nice times before I left though, went to the zoo on Monday (Turkish Spiny Mice are unbelieveably cute, btw) then to the Firehouse in the evening - The Firehouse is easily one of the finest restaurants in Bristol, although it ain't cheap. Then CA and spent the entirety of Tuesday, my last full day in Bristol, packing my stuff and putting it in the loft, storing my car, etc. It was pretty horrible watching the clock count down hours in real time, not the nice, slow passing days we've had the luxury of. There was always "Well, we've still got next week", then "Well, we've still got tomorrow". When you reach "We'll we've still got the next quarter of an hour", it's f***ing difficult to stay positive, I can tell you.

I don't know how things with CA are going to pan out into the future. Really I don't. I could end up back in the UK within a month or two because I miss her too much (although I've got to be strong about that one), I could end up back in the UK after a relatively decent 6 months, I could stay the full 12 months, or I could end up wanting to be here longer. At the moment, there's too much emotional crap in my head to be thinking about that now anyway... All I know is that I love CA dearly, and whatever happens, I want her to be a big part of my life in whatever format that takes. At the moment, I don't care what that is, I just feel I've partly lost her now, and I don't ever want to lost her completely.

Still, I have to stay positive. The constant urge to bottle it completely that I've had since I entered the departure lounge at Heathrow yesterday is beginning to fade. It's still there, but I've just got to jump right in there and show myself why I moved here, to try new things, meet new people, etc. Mrs Nipples and I are off to see some of TO today, I need to go to a Bunac presentation which sounds deathly dull, and exactly not the sort of thing I want to be doing today, but I have to go to get my Social Security number, or else I'm not working anywhere! Sorry this has been a rambling post, and that it's been the first one in ages. I'm sure you have lots of questions along the lines of Why?, What?, Where? etcetera, but frankly I couldn't care less.

And Yahoo Messenger is today's prime example of Why Computers Are Shit (why won't it let me change my picture?) and Blogger.com is the No Really Computers Are Shit winner with changing all my formatting when I paste a picture, so I'm getting cross and need a cigarette. Which will be fun, as it's apparently -14 outside. Anyway, see you later!

Chapter 14, in which the blog gets a radical overhaul!!

2006-01-30T21:35:00.000Z

HTMeowL

Hello all.

Just a quick quickie. I've been learning how to do HTML!! I guess you've already noticed the big changes to the blog, eh? What do you think?

Actually, yes, you're right. I spent the last 2 hours making my blog completely unique. It had a lovely silver and burgundy feel to it, with smart and modern Times New Roman Italic everywhere. I changed borders, backgrounds, fonts, pictures, the layout and even the hit counter. I was on the way to something really fresh. Something exciting!!

As it happens, it didn't end up looking fresh and exciting at all. It ended up looking mouldy and about as exciting as Last Of The Summer Wine. Trust me, it was duller than a particularly boring drizzly Sunday in Slough when all that's on TV is the horse racing on Channel 4. So I scrapped it all and threw it in the (metaphorical, computer related) bin. I guess I'll have another crack when I'm feeling more artistic. The only change I liked - and hence kept - was the hit counter.

And someone else made that.

Chapter 13. It's not a great chapter, to be honest. In fact, I'd skip it if I were you.

2006-01-28T15:57:00.000Z

"Dying's a really hard way to learn about life."

Hello all. Well, it's a Saturday afternoon, and I'm chilling out at home. I've just been watching a film called "My Life" with Michael Keaton and Nicole Kidman. Not a remarkable film by any stretch of the imagination, but it got me thinking. Basically, the premise of the film is that Michael Keaton's character, Bob, is dying of a cancer, and he decides to make a film to record his life for his as yet unborn child.

(I should point out at this point that when I'm very tired, I have a tendency to get over-emotional. I once cried at Independence Day.)

Anyway, this film got me thinking that, well, life is short. It doesn't seem it, as time seems to stretch before us like an freeway in Arizona, but it is very short. Think back to when you were a kid, and you knew you were getting something cool for Christmas. Recall how each next open door on the Advent calendar took years to arrive. Now remember how quickly Christmas snuck in the back door this year, and just as quickly left, taking with it a severe chunk out of your bank account and all the decorations. What I'm getting at is this:

Time is speeding up.

There's nothing we can do about it. And it's not surprising. At university (I studied psychology), we were taught how memory, long term memory, is based on variation from the norm. From this I mean you can go to the same pub every night for a year, and do pretty much the same thing every time. Now, if I asked you to describe your nondescript trip to the pub on April 14th, you'd be at a complete loss. The brain approximates similar events, and they end up blurring into one. If I asked you to recall the time you had flaming Sambucas and you set fire to your trousers, you'll probably remember it fairly clearly.

Stay with me here, I'm not rambling, I promise*. When you're a child, everything is new, each day your brain is acquiring new information and logging novel experiences. Basically, your brain has little repetition to make an approximation with, so when you look back over a year of being a child, it has loads of these un-approximated memories to recall.

I look back over the last year of my life and can hardly remember anything, and as a result, it's sped by like Concorde. Don't get me wrong, it's not been a bad year at all. CA and I got together properly on 1st January 2005, and I've thoroughly enjoyed being with her all this time. It's just that so much of my life has stayed the same recently. In short, I've in essence had a year of going to the same pub every night (not literally, but you get the idea).

I don't want to reach the end of my life and look back and not remember anything. I don't want my life to rush by until before I know it I'm Bob, lying on his bed sucking in his last breaths. Basically, I'm going to try and experience a lot more. I'm going to try and put the brakes on. If old age comes anywhere near me, I'm going to give it a wedgie.

Sorry this has been a rambling*, non-Canada related post, but I just felt like writing it down. I promise it'll be a more cheery post next time, eh?

* - See, it was rambling! You even contradicted yourself about the ramblage! Jesus, if were you, dear reader, I'd hit the 'Next Blog' button right now. Go on, I've got my hit, that's all I care about!

Chapter 12. T-52, BA0093

2006-01-13T22:39:00.000Z

Flight BA0093

Dep: London Heathrow, Terminal Four - 11:40am, March 15th 2006

Arr: Toronto Lester B Pearson - 14:35pm, March 15th 2006

Well, we're (pretty much) ready to rock'n'roll now. I have a Ticket To Ride and I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane.

Mr Nipples (did I mention he visited from Canada?) and I stopped in STA Travel on the way to the pub, and I accidentally bought some flight tickets. Seriously, I didn't intend to, but it just happened. I wanted to just check out the prices and times. Sadly, the person who served me was a rather cute blonde, and I'm a sucker for a cute blonde (or brunette for that matter. In fact, I quite like redheads too) and I ended up booking a flight with British Airways on 15th March, returning on 21st December 2006 (in case I decided to pop back to the motherland for Christmas). It's not actually a bad deal - £330 - to be honest. Especially considering they're scheduled flights. And it means I can take 64kg of luggage, which is a bargain. It means I can take:

10 male Muscovy ducks (well, I guess they're drakes actually) or;
1 professional boxer (flyweight class) or;
3,555 CDs without cases.

Guess what I'll take!

Mo Money Mo Problems

Bunac advise you take about £500 minimum at the start of the beginning of the trip. I'd like to point out that this is something of an understatement. Let's do the maths. We'll start with accomodation, assuming a room in a shared house in Little Italy or the Annex. 1 month's rent (in advance) = $500 = £250. 1 month's rent as a deposit = $500 = £250. Add those two magic numbers together and you get - you guessed it - £500. Take that number and add on the cost of eating, getting around, buying stuff to stick in aforementioned room (like a duvet, cheap TV, etc) and you get a very panicky Cobob who won't be able to feed himself until payday at this rate.

I'm trying to be frugal at the moment, but it really ain't working. I have expensive tastes, but I haven't bought a CD since I can remember (which is probably only 3 weeks ago). But things keep cropping up. Mr Nipples' visit over Christmas was great, but fairly expensive too. My brother's birthday bash was last night. Bam! £50 gone. Gr.

I guess the only way to calm my fiscal nerves is to get on with the business of selling my car. I had a shock when I put the price through Parker's Guide, and it reckoned I'd only fetch £2,200 for it, a clear £500 off what I'd previously established. Thankfully, both AutoTrader and What Car? websites disagreed and resuggested £2,700, so I think I'm just about ok. Even before I sell it, though, I'll end up shelling out £200 do get the big dent on the passenger side repaired (the first bite is with the eye, of course) and £40 on a full valet and wash.

...But Why?

People keep asking me why I'm going to leave everything behind for a while. I've just been reminded of a lyric by my perrenial favourites, EBTG, which seems to sum up my feelings...

In the morning I sit on the train
And wonder if I can go through all this again?
You know I feel like staying 'till the end of the line
This time.

"Talk To Me Like The Sea" - Ben Watt

Blog This For A Game Of Soldiers

Anyway, I'm beginning to find blogging a struggle (as you've probably noticed), but that's only because I'm thinking too much about what to write. I'm trying to fit everything into every entry, but it's not necessary. I vow to chill the f*** out about blogging, and not take something so frivolous so seriously. The Swansea University Wine Tasting Society would approve*, I'm sure.

As a result, there's some really big news I've not even told you yet, but which I've known for two weeks. I'll tell you in due course, but in the meantime, you'll just have to bait the ol' breath. Hehehe. If you think you can guess what it is (and you're not allowed to have a guess if I've already told you offline), drop me a comment...

Take care, chaps. Thanks for stopping by!

*The Swansea University Wine Tasting Society were a work of genius. Alas, I wasn't a member, because it started after I stopped being a student, but I heard of the rules for their meetings which inlcuded:

1. Members must turn up in a T Shirt and necktie.
2. Members must bring an 8-pack of Kit Kats to each meeting
3. Subject matter which would ordinarily be treated with grave seriousness must be made light of, and vice versa.

Legend.

Chapter 11, in which you are instructed to hug a Sainsbury's employee too.

2006-01-04T22:58:00.000Z

Back On Form

Hey, this is my first Canadian Cliché!

So, Bunac pulled their collective finger out and decided to send me the right form. So, please feel free to hug any Bunac staff you might happen across in the next few weeks.

I've filled out the forms, which were clearly designed to be filled out with an electron microscope. I've become quite adept at writing really really small now! I also had two get two passport photos done. I don't know why, but I went in the photo booth at Bristol Parkway railway station, smiled my best Let Me Into Your Country smile (not to be confused with my Let Me Into Your Pants smile, which is similar, but with a soupcon more seediness), and the photos that came out made me look like a complete convict. Not so much a Let Me Into Your Country smile, more like a Let Me Into Your Country And I'll Kill Your Firstborn smile. Oh well. I sent them off to Mr and Mrs Mountie nonethess.

2006. Year of the Sainsbury's.

I had a really cool New Year in the end. If a little surreal. CA and I drove to her Dad's place in Swansea on the Friday night, stopping off at Sainsbury's on the way for Fizzy Cola Bottles, Shrimps And Bananas and cocktail sausages. This fact will become apparent later, so bear with me.

We arrived in Swansea, and arrived at CA's dad's mansion, unpacked a little then met her dad and step-mum in a wine bar in the Mumbles (very nice area, Catherine Zeta Jones used to live there). He was really nice to me, saying it was a shame I was going because I was the only one of CA's boyfriends he'd ever liked. What a nice chap. Bet he says that to everyone. Anyway, he treated us all to a slap up - er - curry. I managed not to get the hiccups (this is a weird Madras allergy I appear to have developed), and we all went home and hit the hay.

The following morning we said our goodbyes, and CA and I hopped in the car and I went to put some more CDs in the changer. Erm. Where are my CDs? They were in my door. In a carrying case. 50 of them. Fifty. Five-oh. Um. Gone. So, we turned the car upside-down (not literally - unusual given we were in Wales) trying to find it, but to no avail. They could only be in Sainsbury's (see? It's worth paying attention). Phoned Sainsbury's. Nope. No-one handed them in. Bugger. New Year's Eve and I'm about £500 out of pocket. Hurrah. See you later 2005. Thanks for stealing my Blur CD.

We went to CA's mum's place. She has one of the finest bathrooms I've ever seen, really well decorated. Sounds silly, but I am, so live with it. She also has a very nice Aga. So to speak. Really nice to hang out with Carla's mum, even though I was beginning to pine for Kings Of Convenience.

We then headed off to Kenilworth (near Birmingham) for a New Year's party at my mate J'Locke's. I'm still mourning the passing of Paul Simon's Graceland, but I'm managing to put a brave face on it.

2006, driving back from Kenilworth (which took about 3 hours longer than necessary thanks to us taking the M42 the wrong way. CA's fault, obviously...), took a drive through Oxford, stopped for a McDonalds. All very pleasant, even though the Buzzin' Fly CD I mentioned in a previous post is now in some pikey's hands... Thought I'd stop off at Sainsbury's on the way back, just on the offchance. "Don't suppose you've had a CD case handed in, have you?". "Is this it?". "I love you". I couldn't stop beaming all the way home. I think I drove CA mad by saying "I'm so chuffed" every 3 seconds for the next half an hour. I've never been so happy to still own something. Next time you're in Sainsbury's, hug whoever serves you and tell them Cobob loves them. I didn't get the name of the person who handed my CDs in, but you've saved me shelling out £500, and given 2006 a great start. In other words, you rule. Yay! :oD

A Fellow Blogger In Need Of A Hug

A blogging chum of mine had a bit of a crap start to the year, getting evicted from her flat on 1st January. I'd be very grateful if you'd stop by and post a "Happy New Year" comment on her site. The link's on the top right of this page, and is called "just a terminal case".

Chapter 10 - 2006.

2006-01-02T18:01:00.000Z

Time marches on ahead - enough said

There's only one way through it
Time marches on ahead - one day we'll see it
How there's a fine blue line
Running through it

(Magne Furuholmen)

Happy 2006

Chapter 9, in which our hero removes his gauntlet and tosses it.

2005-12-26T14:34:00.000Z

"Do you know the signs on London buses, the ones that say 'lower your head'?" - Ben Watt

First things first, this is a great, great CD:

Buzzin' Fly Volume 2, mixed by Ben Watt is something very special. It's a house music CD that tells a story. Over 76 minutes, the music Ben has selected and the cleverly chosen samples take the listener on a journey through modern metropolitan America. By the final line, "I might move out to Williamsburg or Harlem", you feel like you've seen a glimpse of the insane hustle and bustle of Chicago, New York or any other North American city, and it's quite a moving experience. It's almost like classical music with a beat, every motif links together and flows from one setting to another, taking you smoothly with it. If you're prepared to put in 76 minutes of your life to something that'll surprise and delight, it's well worth it.

Why shouldn't I hug a Bunac Staff member yet then?

Because they sent me the wrong form to send off to the Canadian High Commission. Silly billies. The form I had said in very clear English on the top "STUDENT APPLICATION". I phoned them up and asked them whether they'd sent me the wrong forms, and they said no, they hadn't. I pointed out that maybe the fact that it said "Student" and specifically asked for my University Details might suggest I needed a different form. "Just let me check," said the polite Mrs Bunac on the other end of the phone, "I'll put you on hold for a minute". When she came back on the line, she did agree that I seemed to know a little more about their forms than they did, and she'd send out the correct forms. Marvellous.

I now need:

My personal reference (again).
Two passport photos with my name printed clearly on the back.
Two photocopies of my passport.
The completed form (which I can only assume they require doing by rearranging the atoms on it, because they've not left a great deal of space).

Bugger.

I now have to find my passport again. It's incredible how quickly one can lose something!

Challenge #2

I'd like to add to my Why Toronto Rules series, but I'm very lazy, so I'd like readers who are from Toronto (or know it well) to submit an article. Please send these to:

Cobob@hotmail.co.uk

I'll print everything along with your name and blog site, so don't be shy!

Take care of your shelves, and each other.

On the 10th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Chapter 8

2005-12-23T16:47:00.000Z

Evenin' all.

Just a quick post to say I'm still here and I haven't forgotten you. I'm just verrrrrry busy with Santa stuff.

CA is off to her parents' in Swansea tomorrow morning, so I'll have a little more time to myself to post, and I'll tell you all about the welcome pack, my Bunac playing cards and why my Hug A Bunac Staff Member suggestion was a tad premature.

In the very best spirit of Christmas, take care of your elves, and each other. x

Chapter 7, in which Our Hero finally gains acceptance.

2005-12-14T18:56:00.000Z

Alright, alright. I know. I've not been around for a while. Hey, it's not like any of you read it anyway, do you? Here's me blogging away. And for what? Nothing. Well, how does the chance of winning something sound? If you're lucky, I might shamelessly promote my blog with some completely extravagant prize before I go! Maybe I'll put one of my possessions that I won't be needing up for grabs? Anyway, food for thought.

"I'd rather be a hammer than a nail. Yes, I would. If I could, I surely would." - Paul Simon.

Well, in the last thrilling installment of Canada Or Broke (Or Both) we learned that the Forms Were Available. What we've missed, however, is the news that your humble narrator not only sent off the forms (bet you thought the day would never come, eh?) but has heard back from Bunac! Bunac said...

YES!

(Well, they said a little more than that. And they were probably a little less excited than I was. They weren't quite cold and matter-of-fact about it, but they were professional. I e-mailed back and told them that I loved them. In that way. I got an e-mail back from someone called "Detective Inspector Hayes".)

Aren't they lovely? Your humble narrator has been one of the lucky few picked to join the lovely Canadian folk in the passing of 365 days of their country!

Next time you're near Farringdon tube station in London (it's on the Metropolitan and Circle lines), please pop in, say hello to Mr and Mrs Bunac and tell them they are lovely. Feel free to chuck a compliment of your own in if the desire so takes you. Please don't, however, feel free to chuck in a condiment of your own. I'm sure if Bunac thought I was instructing members of the (already very impressionable) public to enter their offices and assault their staff with sachets of Hellman's Real Mayonnaise*, they might revoke my acceptance. Anyway, sorry it's a whistle-stop entry today. I'll be off work, hungover, on Friday, so I'll probably write something to rival the latest Harry Potter (in quality, if not length) then.

Thank you for reading. I love you. In that way.

* Feel free to lob all the Hellman's Imaginary Mayonnaise you like at them, though.

Chapter 6: Interesting News From The Colonies, The Lost And Found Passport and The Forms Are Out

2005-12-06T16:48:00.000Z

Cor blimey guv'nor, strike a light, stone the crows.

What a packed Going To Canada few days it's been. Because I'm a traditionalist at heart, I'll deal with it all in order. I know, just call me Co "Whoa man he's a crazy fool" Bob.

The Forms Are Available or A Very Dull Story About My Passport

Dead exciting this! This is the moment I've been waiting for...! Like a child opening his first Christmas present, I did what Bunac suggested and downloaded the forms (I'm very open to suggestion, you know. Plus, I wanted to). Really good forms, these. I was delighted. I mean, I've filled out a lot of forms in my time, and these are well above average. Anyway, layout aside, I need the following information:

Name - Yep, I've known this for years. That's an easy one.
Address - Well, I've just moved, but it's back into an address I lived at for 12 years before moving out. I think I'll cope with the "Address" section no problems.
Term Time Address - Not a student. I plump for leaving that bit blank. I hope they understand.
Student Applicants - Again, not a student, so I'm gonna just ignore that bit.
Passport Details (Exactly As In Passport) - Now this'll be an easy one. I'll just go and grab my... Erm... My... Hang on, this just isn't fair. Don't they know I moved house a week ago? It could be ANYWHERE!

My room, in which my passport could be anywhere, currently looks something like this:

My passport is approximately this big:
Hang on. Wait a second. It could conceiveably be in the garage. Oh. Wait. I remember now. With all my boxes in it, it looks suspiciously like:
Actually, I'm just realising this is easily the most dull bit of the post for today, so to cut a long story short - I found it, and it didn't take that long.

Exciting News From The Colonies!

My mate, whose name is John (but we'll call him Man With Three Nipples in the interests of protecting both his privacy and physiological quirks), announced to me he was getting married soon to his lovely girlfriend - and only very recent fiancee - Carrie (who we would call Fit Bird Who Makes Man With Three Nipples A Very Lucky Bastard Indeed if it didn't take too long to type and stand a chance of upsetting Man With Three Nipples). He's marrying her. In Canada. In Toronto.

IN MARCH!

Yes, you heard it here first, dear reader, your humble narrator is going to kick off his big adventure at a wedding!! On the one hand, hurrah, on the other, the rest of my trip will have some explaining to do if it doesn't keep up that kind of momentum for the whole year. Still, I'm optimistic.

It does also mean that the date for my departure might have to be brought forward to the end of February so I've got time to find a place to live quickly. I'm sure Man With Three Nipples and Mrs Nipples wouldn't want me sleeping on their futon while they consummate their relationship for what I'm sure is the very first time!

My Busy Week

Guess what I'm doing this week? Nope. I'm not unicycling with Cherie Blair. Nope, I'm not trying to fit an entire gorilla in my mouth for Comic Relief. Ooh, you're close on that one, but no, the Take That reunion tickets sold out before I could get one, and they're not this week anyway. Alright then, I'll tell you.

Weds night: Seeing A-Ha in concert at Wembley Arena. Hurrah!
Thurs night: Work Xmas do.
Fri night: Friend's birthday #1.
Sat night: Meeting CA's dad for the first time. He scares me. I swear he's in the Welsh mafia (or the Taffia, as I like to think of them). Must brush up on my Welsh Rugby.
Sun night: Friend's birthday #2.

So, I probably won't be blogging again particularly soon. Sorry. I know you're gutted. I'll keep you posted, anyway.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Take care of yourselves, and each other. x

ps. My dad's computer is easily the worst ever computer that any satan worshipping sadistic bastard has ever concocted. I have to wait for the screen to update with what I'm typing every few seconds, and the hard drive goes "chhhhhng" every 2 seconds for NO REASON WHATSOEVER!!!!!!! And I can't smoke in the house, so right now I'm ready to smash the f***ing thing to kingdom come with a washing machine!!!

Chapter 5, in which our hero has A Bad Day and Kevlar Woofers

2005-11-26T20:37:00.000Z

"One morning soon, I will find, gonna find wings on my mind to take me high. So if you hear a sound from way down here on the ground, I say my friend, it's only me trying to fly..." (G Garnet/L Schifrin)

This is the very last time I'll post from my current abode. The weekend has arrived when the first big, rusty cog of my life starts to turn. I'm now sat in a steadyingly emptying flat (I've moved half my stuff today, the rest hopefully tomorrow), listening to some jazz in the hope of alleviating my dark mood. I've been feeling low for the last couple of days now. I'm moving back in with my folks. They're lovely, my parents, but the situation for me isn't ideal living with them, and I'm sure it's not ideal for them having their 27 year old son crashing their retirement party. Having said that, you've gotta love them for putting themselves out to help me achieve something I really want.

I'm also very sad about not living with my (now ex) housemate, J. She's been an absolute legend for the last 9 months. I can honestly say, hand-on-heart, that I've never enjoyed living with someone as much before. Not once did she annoy me, not once did anything she did make me want to hit her over the head with a bookcase. Which is unusual for me, I'm not very tolerant you know. I'm really going to miss her.

Another contributing factor to my spiritual deficiency is that I've realised that saying goodbye to CA (my girlfriend, for those of you who arrived fashionably late) is going to be a real toughie. Hell, no-one said this was going to be easy. The funny thing is that when you're close to losing something, you find it impossible to think rationally. I know that if I didn't make the changes I'm about to make in my life, I'd regret it, and CA would bear the brunt of that.

"I like small speakers, I like tall speakers. If they’ve music, they’re wired for sound" (Alan Tarney)

One thing I've found that lightens the mood is buying unnecessary hi-fi equipment.

Just been dumped?
- Buy a new DVD player.

Big zit before a first date?
- You don't have a MiniDisc player, do you?

You say your dog got run over by the pizza delivery guy, your wife left you for your boss, your already broken leg has now developed gangrene and has lots of pus-filled sores and you've discovered Take That are getting together for a reunion tour?
- Clearly, now's the time to invest in that Dolby 5.1 Pro Logic Surround Sound system you've always needed!

My current floorstanding speakers are huge. One of the Oompah-Loompahs from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory could happily hide his wife and two kids in one of these with enough room for ample foodstuffs for a fortnight. My new room at my folks' is the size of a small shoebox, with the shoes still in it. So I managed to justify getting some £100 speakers (they're very nice - they've got kevlar woofers!) which will fit neatly on some bookshelves and not clutter up my precious floorspace. I was working on the principle that I could sell them before I leave for £50 and only end up paying £50 in actuality, until my brother pointed out I could use them for my 5.1 Dolby Pro Logic Surround Sound system when I come back. I'll probably be very depressed again when I finally return, so I think he's given me some good advice. Nice one, bro.

I honestly don't think the fact that this way he gets to look after my current speakers had anything to do with his encouragement.

Chapter 4, in which we read our hero's e-mails (with his consent)

2005-11-25T10:02:00.000Z

Just thought I'd share this e-mail. You know, (a) to give an insight into how anxious about the whole thing I am, and (b) to satisfy the voyeurs amongst you... The names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.

Hi Cobob

As I am sure that you can appreciate, it is not possible for us to give an exact closing date for the programme as this is dependent on the number of applications we receive and the rate at which we receive them. We certainly do not anticipate that the programme will fill within the first couple of months of the opening date - the 2005 non student programme closed to new applications in April of this year, so you should have a few months in which to apply

I hope that this has helped.

Regards

Martha Stewart

BUNAC
16 Bowling Green Lane
London
EC1R 0QH
Tel: (020) 7251 ****

-----Original Message-----

From: Cobob

Sent: 23 November 2005 13:14

To: BUNAC Canada

Subject: RE: Work Canada 2006 - non student.

Hi again.

Just one quick question -You say that the visas are available on the first-come, first-served basis. How quickly do you anticipate the non-student part of Work Canada to close, please? I'm just wondering what the sort of timescales you expect are, e.g. 2pm on the day, weeks, months, etc.

Many thanks,

Cobob.

Chapter 3, in which we learn the first reason Why Toronto Rules

2005-11-24T16:53:00.000Z

"The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs" - Samantha Parton/Jolie Holland (a.k.a. The Be Good Tanyas. Since you ask, they're Canadian)

If music be the food of love, then I'm either (a) a big fat bloke or (b) Casanova himself. With now well over 1,000 CDs to my name (see previous audience challenge), I've a bit of a passion for one thing. Shopping for CDs. I drive anyone who I holiday with crazy, forcing them to trapse round whatever new city I happen to be in at the time looking for CD shops. It's something of an obsession with me. Forget the fact that I've clearly bought everything I actually want. Now I'm buying stuff I don't know whether I want or not in the hope that that 1 in 10 CDs will be a hidden gem. And a lot of the time it works. It's a wonderful occupation. It's a constant musical adventure. I'm into virtually anything. Over the years I've developed obsessions with:

1. Scandinavian music (Kings Of Convenience, Erlend Oye, Royksopp, Magnet, Monica Starck, Stina Nordenstam, Whale)
2. Female singer-songwriters (Natalie Merchant, Tori Amos, Carole King, etc)
3. Americana (Ryan Adams, Hem, The Be Good Tanyas)
4. The "Bristol Sound" (Portishead, Massive Attack, Tricky, Nicolette, Ilya)
5. Deep, funky house (Mostly Jay Hannan & Ben Watt from Lazy Dog, Underdog and Buzzin' Fly)

There's not really anything I won't touch. I even have a folk album by a band from the Shetland Islands called Rock, Salt & Nails. I saw them live on my 18th birthday and they rocked the Sidmouth Folk Festival. Not hard, I know.

I know this sounds like showing off. And you're probably right. But it also goes to explain why I love...

Reason Why Toronto Rules #1:

572, College Street, Toronto, ON. 416-537-1620

572, College Street is a wonderful place. It is home of perhaps the greatest music store in the whole world*. As you can see from the photo - which I took myself, do you like it? - it's not a big place. No, I already tried that. Even if you push your eye right up against the monitor, it's still not that big, is it? Still, sometimes small is beautiful. At least that's what I tell the ladies.

Soundscapes nestles quietly and unassumingly amongst the shops, trendy bars and disproportionately high number of slightly mad shouty people in Little Italy, a district on the north-west of Toronto (if my geography and memory serve). Once you go through the door, a gorgeous sight awaits you.

Wooden bookcases line the walls with thousands of CDs neatly stacked side on for you to browse through. You can peruse the spines at leisure, the staff are friendly and give good advice. I remember a few years back when I visited, I asked if they knew anything about a band called "Alfie", who I knew from a remix they did for Kings Of Convenience on "Versus" (not the most obscure band, but hardly Coldplay famous. Thank god). They described the band for me and put it on in the shop so I could hear it properly. Lovely, shiny, fluffy people they are in there.

One thing which makes Soundscapes so bed wettingly exciting for a sad muso like your humble narrator is that they only have one of each CD in the rack. Meaning that the CD you've just decided to purchase is the only one there. It was there just for you. Waiting patiently. To come home. Think how happy you're making that lone CD by giving it a good home!! I think of it rather like small, unwanted kittens at RSPCA shelters.

Okay. Yes, you're right, I'm being overly emotional, and yes they probably have crates of them out back, but it makes me feel nice in my tummy when I buy from them. Heheh. How "special" do I sound?

Another plus point of Soundscapes, is that it sits only a few doors away from Kalendar, a trendy cafe/bar where once you've bought your stack of music, you can settle down on a table with a discman and enjoy a nice pilsner while reading your inlays and experiencing new music for the first time. Ahhh, bliss. More on Kalendar later, perhaps.

Thanks for reading!

* That I've been to. Which isn't much. Sorry.

Chapter 2, in which there are Exciting Developments

2005-11-21T21:47:00.000Z

"A plane made of paper, struck by the light, circled forever over the city at night. Like a movie, like a song. How it should be, being young." - Erlend Oye

I've followed a friend's (more interesting) blog for a while now, and she I think grappled with exactly what she wanted her blog to be. Should it be a journal of personal thoughts or something more specific, of a particular experience or situation. The same conflict has occured in my mind too. Should this be a blog of my life, my personal thoughts and worries, or should it just be about my efforts to get away from my life of ennui to a promised land of milk and honey? Well, I've given it some thought and I think that the two are linked inextricably. Why I want to go is as important as how (or whether) I go, and so I've decided to write mostly just when there are Developments, and explain how I feel about them at the time.

Over the weekend, my housemate and I had a great houseparty. Lots of cool people turned up, and much drinking, merriment, balloon popping and discussion as to the merits of Paul Simon's Graceland. The occasion behind this shindig was that we're both moving out this weekend coming up. And I'm moving back in with my parents. *Shudder*. I figured out, it'll save £343 per month in outgoings. This is very important as I plan on paying off a huge loan before I go. How much is my loan? £5,700. Phew. I'm going to have to sell:

1. My Car. It's a 51 reg Fiat Punto, with a dent, a noisy gearbox and a stiff clutch. But only 26k miles on the clock. I reckon £2,700 is fair, don't you?
2. My DVDs.
3. My computer (possibly, god knows it'll be well out of date after a year)

...and save as much as possible.

In addition, to get to Canada, I figure I need:

1. £160 for the visa fee
2. £500 at least in spending money for when I get there
3. £450 for the flights
4. £200 for a decent hi-fi when I get there

= £1,310 in total.

Anyway, enough of boring financial mumbo jumbo. Just wanted to make sure you were aware it's not cheap moving abroad! Hence the moving back in with my folks. It's only three months. It's only three months. It's only three months...

"Every party has a winner and a loser. I'm jumping out of the game by being the referee" - Erlend Oye

My feelings about going have been mixed recently. My girlfriend, we'll call her CA because we're not feeling imaginative today, are we, stayed all weekend and we had a great time. We mutually decided when I told her I was going (about 2-3 weeks ago now) that we'd call it a day when I left and live separate lives for the year. If I came back and we were both still single and up for it, we'd see about picking up again, but I'm not kidding myself. She's a catch. I could rue this one for a while to come.

The thing is, though, I've not been certain for the entire year we've now been seeing each other. I am what is commonly described as "a commitmentphobe" (not to be confused with a Commitmentphobe, which is a fear of Irish soul music bands). I've got this gnawing feeling that I'm constantly missing a party somewhere else, that the grass is always greener in the neighbour's pasture, and I want some of it. I know it's a lie, but it's a feeling that's been chipping away at me since about 1999. This is what's causing me to feel so restless, and why I'm not ready to stick my neck on the line and say "yes" to anything long-term. See, men aren't bastards, we're just as at the mercy of our insecurities and emotions as the fairer sex. We just don't like to talk about it.

My mum, a great philosopher (and counsellor) in her own right, said something very profound to me while I was wrestling with the whole Go To Canada idea. She said:

"Which would you regret more? Going, or Not Going?"

...And this is the thought which steels my resolve whenever I doubt it. I've got something I have to get out of my system, and it's better I do this now than when I've got a wife, kids and a mortgage. I've lived my entire life since University running away from happiness. Real happiness, I mean, not the contentment which I have in droves, but is currently eating away at my soul like a cancer. Contentment breeds boredom, which in turn breeds depression, and that's a cycle I've been sucked into enough times in the past to know it's a dumb way to conduct a life.

Don't mean to prattle on, but I hope this is bringing some clarity to why I need to go.

Exciting Developments

The Bunac website (see link on the right) has changed. For ages it has said:

"Student visa applications for 2005 are still open. Non-student applications are now closed for 2005. The 2006 application forms will be available from December" (or something to that effect)

It now says:

"Work Canada update

The 2005 Work Canada
programme is now closed.

Application Forms for the 2006 programme will be available from early December.

Reserve your copy here."

Now I'm scared. Thoughts running through my head are:

What if I don't get approved?
What if I can't go?
What if I decide not to go?
It all seems so long away
Can I keep my resolve for the next 3.5 months?
Do I really want to leave CA behind?

I honestly expected to think:

Here we go, bring it on

...and I think I do in a way. It's just happening now. Wheels are beginning to turn. I've ordered my form. To be sent to my parents' address. The day it arrives, I'm filling it out, sticking a first class stamp on it and sending it. I want my application form to show the kind of puppy-dog enthusiasm that makes people vomit. I want to be like our friends' labrador Gemma when you intimated a piece of pork pie might be coming her way.

Audience participation

This a funny one. I know for a fact that no-one is reading my blog. My friend gave me a few tips on how to spread the word, which I intend to do, just to try and get an extra hit or two (the eagle eyed amongst you might spot that I've fabricated the counter! Sad, I know). I do, however, want to get you, my dear reader, involved in some way. So, occasionally, I'm going to throw a challenge out to you. You know, just to keep your interest.

Challenge #1

I'm a huge music fan. I've got well over 1,ooo CDs and am a stickler for sound quality. My challenge to you is to figure out the most cost effective way to get as much of my music out to Canada without compressing it, bearing in mind I've got a 30kg allowance and this needs to include my year's possessions. I want you to muse on this and stick a comment in. Ready? Go!

Thanks for reading.

Much love,

Cobob.x

Chapter 1, in which we meet our hero and cut the umbilical cord

2005-11-16T23:18:00.000Z

Waaaaaaaaaaaah.

If by some complete fluke you've stumbled across this site, it means you've been blessed. You are here at the dawn, the birth if you will, of a brand new blog. Yes, it's been slapped to encourage it to start breathing properly, and still covered in blood, placenta and attached to its mummy by a little cable, but it's pretty much ready to get on with it. It does need feeding though.

So, why blog at all? And what's Canada got to do with the price of fish? You may well ask. Go on. Ask. There. See? It's much better when you talk to a blog. I hate it when these things are all one way.

Me.

Well, I'm 27. I'm male. I'm white. I'm middle class. I work for a finance company. I'm heterosexual (hopefully, or I'm going to regret my sex life thus far). I get excited when England get into a penalty shootout. I have a nice girlfriend. I live in a nice flat with a really good friend. I earn fairly good money. I drive a new(ish) car. I'm even told I look a little like Tim Henman, I'm that average.

But I plan on pulling it all apart. You know, for fun.

For all things godly, shut up about yourself for once. What's the whole Canada deal then?

I have a friend who lives in Canada. I've been to visit him about 3 times now, and the place rules. Well, Toronto rules to be precise. And I've always said I wanted to live there. Now BUNAC (a student gap year organisation) have waved in my face a visa opportunity to go and try it for a year. I plan on going. In March.

More on why Toronto rules quite so much as we progress through the weeks.

Why should I care?

Ah, now that's easy. You probably shouldn't. God knows there are enough people out there like me, i.e. savagely average, blogging away with a grand total audience figure to match mid-season Eldorado. But what makes my blog so interesting is... Well... Okay, you're right. I planned on telling you how lazy I am, and how I find it difficult to hold an idea in my head for five seconds, but that's all nonsense. The real reason why I want you to read it (and you're under no pressure) is that this means a lot to me, and I want to keep a journal of my efforts to get there. Plus, who knows? It might even be useful for someone else to read my exploits. Maybe Bunac will pay me?

Hurry up and go already.

I'd love to. Really I would. I'm getting so bored at work I could vomit on my shoes slightly. Unfortunately, the visa applications don't open for another couple of weeks, and the earliest travel date will be March. Really. You have to sit through all of this for another four months. Well, you don't have to. You can just surf your way out of here and google image search for Queen Rania of Jordan (now that's a monarch) if you want. I won't be offended. I'll just do a sad face.

You've wittered on too long.

Yes, I'm sorry about that. I know I should really leave some exciting stuff for later to keep you interested, right? It's just that this is my first blog and I wanted --

I'm bored now. Go away.

Right ho. Sorry.