The Fringe Factor

Every summer for the past 31 years, a little spot in Old Stratchcona comes alive with music, performances, and food. The Edmonton International Fringe Festival is the 2nd largest festival of its kind (Edinburgh touts the top rank). I've always loved the Fringe, its energy is so contagious that you cannot help to walk away with a grin on your face. In addition to its large selection of live indoor stage performances, the outdoor buskers and carnival colours make this festival a great nirvana for photographers.

After having taking a few photography courses, I thought I'd do something different at this year's fringe and apply for the fringe photography volunteer team. Back in April, I submitted my application with a small hopeful portfolio. Months went by with no word and I'd forgotten about it until 4 weeks ago when I got an email welcoming me to the multimedia team. I was glowing! Really? Someone out there thought that my photography skills were worthy enough for a festival THIS BIG? Whoa - easy there ego.

Soon I was sitting in the volunteer orientation, meeting the team leaders, and eventually checking in for my first shift. Each volunteer was assigned to photograph specific subjects for each shift: general festival (buskers/patrons), kids, vendors, volunteers. Most of my shifts were general festival (I was a new recruit, so they started me easy) but I did manage in a few extra shifts of kids' fringe and late night cabaret (photographing people in their underwear was a definite first for me, at least in public... uh, I overshared didn't I?).

"Chris without the hat" at his juggling best

To say that I had a great time is an understatement. I was a kid on Christmas morning, 8 times in 11 days (it was more like Hanukkah!). Having an official status within the festival allowed me to get closer to the action. It meant a greater connection to the performers, organizers, and fellow volunteers. I was able to talk to artists about their trade and learn more of the work behind the curtains that make this festival such a success. To top it off, I learned more about photography from seasoned photographers. One lesson was trying to find THE shot. There's so much action going on during any performance (not only the show itself, but the crowd's reaction or interaction with the performer), it's hard to not have a trigger finger. I did find the 75 shots/shift very limiting, but as the festival wore on, I found that I was taking more quality shots over quantity.

Living statue Daniel Anderson gets Fringe muralized!

To challenge the photography team, there were competitions for the top 25, top 10, and top photo of the day picks. I did manage to make top 25 lists with each day I had a shift (I think everyone made this list). I managed one top 10 list. But the gravy was snatching/snapping two photo of the day. Sadly, I can't show these shots off as the price to pay with volunteering is that all your submitted photos are owned by the Fringe which may be utilized for marketing/promotion purposes. The photos shared here (and my flickr account) were taken on my off days  - yes, this meant I was at the festival almost every day. Go me.

Would I do this again? Absolutely. In fact, this experience has encouraged me seek out more photography volunteer jobs. This is only the beginning.

Winnipeg's Dan and Kimberly Craig from The Street Circus dazzle the night crowd

Battle of the Cons

Another week, another con... these are the days of our lives.

I just returned from another convention - no, not a comic con (see my flickr site for pictures), but a science con. This is a rite of spring within the science world. During all those long months of slaving away in a dark laboratory at the tip of the whip from your PI who yells for "RESULTS?!!!" every Friday at 5PM, the doors are unlocked and we flock to various hotel/conference centre destinations to talk about how we spent ten of thousands of tax-payer dollars, attempt to "network" and "socialize" eventhough we're all awkward scientists, and flaunt "our lab is the bestest" posters while fielding "but your data is shit" questions from a disgruntled colleague who just realized that his project has just been scooped.

As I was sitting in this past week's science seminar talks, I couldn't help start a comparison of comic cons vs. science cons (the more honest story is that my mind wandered/eyes glazed over when some Chemist started gushing about NMR peaks). It's like the age old philosophical geek question: if Science and Comic cons were in a fistfight, who would win?

Venue/Location
Comic cons are held either in a convention centre (San Diego, Vegas, Chicago, etc...) or a hotel halls (Saskatoon, SK or Fargo, ND). It really depends on the star attractions that determines the attendee numbers (50K-100K vs 5K). Some cons (San Diego) require you to buy advance tickets YEARS ahead of the convention itself. People are often comment, "I thought it was just a casual gathering." 20 years ago, yes it was. Nowadays, if you are planning on attending a comic con, you plan it like a major holiday trip. Go big or stay home. However big cons attract the more interesting guests... no right-minded Hollywood big shot will fly to Fargo.

Likewise, Science cons vary in size depending on the draw. Each major science field has an annual MEGA con (for my field, it's ASM). I'm not a fan of the MEGA cons (50K+ attendees) as it's usually a free-4-all with overlapping panel talks and poster sessions that forces you to sprint all over the convention centre the entire time. Anyone you meet or want to meet there never has the time to chat with you. Like Comic cons, there are more intimate gatherings (100-300 attendees) in hotel settings. Unlike Comic cons, the location for these MEGA Science gatherings rotate. Although it's the same general stock of people, the venue is a convention centre in some metropolis city. I'm still waiting for ASM to announce Hawaii as their next locale - the isles will sink due to the sheer influx of scientists who descend upon that convention. Most likely this will be my scenario to such a conference.

Winner: Depends on category, so a tie.
Big cons: Comic (you may feel like cattle standing in the lines, but at least you buy 30 seconds of face time with Sir Patrick Stewart!)
Small cons: Science (you actually get to have a beer with a potential co-authour on your next project)

Big Shot Guest List
Comic cons thrive on nabbing the headliners. Calgary Expo managed to pull off the impossible in getting the entire original TNG cast together on stage. First time in 20 years. Can you imagine if some con was able to reunite the original Star Wars cast? Big names = big crowds = many people having geek-out moments (yours truly included).

Do Science cons have headliners? You betcha! They are called Nobel Prize Laureates. Once at a UCLA MEGA Science convention, I was having a geek-out moment when Sydney Brenner was introduced. The entire auditorium went batshit crazy as Sydney* shuffled across the stage to the podium to speak. Of course he didn't have an autograph session during this conference... but it's not uncommon to ask some big shot to sign one of their articles or memories books.

*ego subnote: if I did an Erdos-Bacon number relation between myself and Sydney, it's 3. My Master's advisor was a grad student in a lab from one of Sydney's grad student. Ergo, Sydney is my lab great grandfather. Oh yes. Oooooh yes!!!


Winner: Comic (sorry Sydney, as awesome as you are, I'd rather hang out with Sir Patrick)

Exhibitors
Need I to remind you that the Comic industry is purely an entertainment industry? It should come to no surprise that over 50% of the convention is wall to wall exhibitors trying to make a (big) buck on your disposable income in forms of books, pictures, art, buttons, toys, etc... I actually rarely/never buy anything at Comic cons. My con money is purely for autographs and/or personalized sketches. If I have books to be signed, they are already part of my personal collection.

Science (arguably) isn't entertainment, but it does spend a pretty penny. At the MEGA cons, you'd be surprised at the size of the exhibitor's hall. Every big (and small) biotech company trying to sell you its newest sero electronic pipette filler that comes in 5 fabulous scents! I hide from these sales rep everytime they darken my laboratory's doorway. However at the con, to lure you into their booth for the 15 min sales pitch, they do offer you free goodies.

Winner: Science (I enjoy my free annual supply of pens, highlighters, floatation devices, stress balls, science geek bumper stickers, rulers, T-shirts, boxer shorts, clipboards, calendars, timers, pedometers, wristbands, headbands, plush toys, etc...)

The N word
When I was a young Masters grad student, my advisor sent me to a MEGA Science con sans poster with the instructions "you will network". At the time, I thought this would mean that I would attempt to locate and procure ethernet access for my advisor. I soon found out that this really meant perfecting my social skills among the science population. No problem for me as I can strike up a conversation with anyone. However I soon discovered that it's true what they say about scientists in general... we fair better at talking with our data than people (one of the main reasons why there's an open bar). But so long as you speak science, you can network your way through any poster session. Often you hear about those racy hook-ups between some grad student and assistant prof (different labs... we hope). Yessiree, that's networking for a new collaboration (especially if the condom breaks). This past Science con, one speaker was a grad student who published in Nature and he was good looking. I was intrigued. I approached him during the dinner session, introduced myself, and found out that this boy could publish his data in Nature but couldn't publish his good looks with good personality. Major "full-of-himself". No problem, the next day's panel talk had a very cute biotech post-doc. Although his company's products were really of no interest, his personality was the closing deal with exchange of email addresses (he could darken my lab's doorway anyday).

Like scientists, Comic con fanfolks are equally awkward to be around... at least in the general public setting. However dress them up as a Jedi or a skin tight leather Catwoman, and they're Mr(s). Popularity. There's even geek speed-dating panel sessions; tho, I've always passed on them this far. Again I have no problem talking to people at the con (in and out of cosplay). I don't dress up, but I am very much a social butterfly as I am fluent in geek and very extroverted within the crowds. This past Comic con, I was approached by 2 media groups asking which newsmagazine I represented (they overheard my "interviews" of various people) and I had to break 3 fanboy hearts. Sorry boys, I was ultra busy networking with comic book artists and the TNG cast. Maybe next year, I will take you all up on those coffees (Ron, if you're somehow reading this... email me!).

Winner: Science. Although Comic con gives a more interesting flavour of the day, the Science con can lead to a new job offer (at least from a scientist's stand point - much different story if you're within the comic/acting industry).

The attire
Above I mentioned the cosplay at Comic con. About 60% of the attendees are dressed in their regular everyday attire (by which I mean geek T-shirt and jeans). The other 40% are full-metal-jacket decked out in costume. Comic cons provide a generally safe-environment for these people who spend thousand of hours and moolah on their favourite character. I say generally safe because there's always bullies. Although I don't dress up (I am honest with myself enough to know that I don't look good in spandex in public OR in private), I do admire those who do. Some are... what the? But most are hella awesome!

Science cons attire: oh what does one wear among the geeks here? In general, good pair of jeans/khakis and nice dress shirt/blouse. For the dinner session, a jacket/tie or skirt is usually the norm. But of course there's the fashion no-nos... like socks in sandals (facepalms).

Winner: Comic. Com'on, who wouldn't want to be in a hall where the norm is capes and tight leather suits? Ok, you don't have to agree with me on this point.

Seminar/Panel Talks
I have heard the comment from folks outside my science circle that when they hear me give a talk, it's like I'm speaking another language. So at Science cons, I'm certain that the people serving our food/drinks must feel like they are in foreign country. The interests of the talks are really based on what your interest is. I just came back from a carbohydrate conference, which is heavy on the chemistry side. I phail at chemistry-speak, so most of the talks I felt like I was on another planet. However when the talks switched to microbiology, ooooh the interest!

At Comic cons, you don't have to be a hardcore fanboy to understand the talks. You just have to have some general knowledge of the geek culture itself (or willing to learn it). Of course you miss out on a lot of subtle inside jokes. Kinda like watching the Big Bang Theory - all the jokes are funny on the surface and funnier than hell if you know the reference.

Winner: Comic. Yes science talks are intriguing and often inspire new ideas for my own projects. But listening to the comical banter between Brent Spiner and Wil Wheaton or hearing first hand Stan Lee's story on why the Hulk changed from grey to green in the comic books - highly more entertaining than any gene expression analysis.

Final Tally Count: Science con 2, Comic con 3. A squeaker folks!

A Trekkie? You?

Right now, I'm sitting in my living room and in front of me is documented proof of bucket list item #5 completed. Oh Calgary Expo Comic Con, how I love thee. I'll blog about the Comic Con experience in another post shortly, but I wanted to share here about my history about being a long time Trekker as a lot of folks have commented: dude, seriously?

Almost 25 years ago, I sat in front of my family's little 8" screen TV and tuned in to see the pilot episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I was 10 years old at the time and already a budding geek with interests in science, space, video gaming, and comics. I knew of the original Star Trek series, but (shocker warning) Captain Kirk and Dr. Spock never really appealed to me. Through my eyes, they were outdated and any episode that I watched seemed boring, corny, or both. However I decided that I'd give this Next Generation a try. Besides, the guy from Reading Rainbow had a role in it and I never missed an episode of that show.

So I tuned in and watched this group of nine people try to save their asses, their ship, and humanity itself (as it was on trial  in this episode) from this omnipotent evil guy called "Q". The Reading Rainbow dude was blind (but he drove the ship!), the Chief Security Officer was a chick, there was this "needs more time in the sun" robot... er, android whom I found annoying, single parent families were the norm, and the Captain was this old British, wait French?, bald dude. After the pilot episode, I turned off the TV, marched up to my mom who was in the kitchen, and declared with all regale formality that I was officially a Star Trek fan.

My mom's answer, "That's nice dear."

Over the next 7 years, I never missed an episode and still have all the original VCR recordings from seasons 2 to 7 (season 1 remained elusive as our household didn't own a VCR at the time). Because I replayed each episode over and over, I can still recite the dialogue word per word of almost every episode (much to my friends' weird looks). Beyond TNG (and soon DS9 and later Voyager) I started immersing myself in all things Trek - learning about each character's background, the Gene Roddenberry's story, the process of filming the episodes, learning to love the original series (Whoa! They made movies too?!), and worrying about the characters who seemed like family to me. I clearly remember screaming loudly at that tiny TV as tears streamed down my face in disbelief when they killed off Tasha Yar (that Chief of Security chick), "You CAN'T kill her! YOU JUST CAN'T!!!" Yesiree, I was an official Trekker.

Why did TNG resonate so passionately with me? I felt that of all the TV shows during my upbringing, TNG not only appealed to geek in me with sci-fi, but understood me and here's the top 3 reasons:

1. Being handicapped doesn't limit your position in society. The blind dude didn't remain the helm pilot during the entire series. No, LaForge was promoted to keep the ship from "being blown to kingdom come" as ship's Chief Engineer. If a blind guy can be accepted as a colleague and become senior staff member of Starfleet's flagship, hey a deaf chick could do anything too (like a Ph.D. in microbiology).

2. The Crusher family storyline hit home with me as I deeply identified with the dialogue between the solo parent and child. Sure, the circumstances were different, but the fact that that social status wasn't an issue gave me hope that I did have a chance in life. As a kid growing up, I was branded "at-risk child" in my school system just because I didn't have a dad. If it wasn't enough to be bullied for being the deaf kid in a regular school system, I was also "that deaf chick from a broken home who you shouldn't be friends with because she's a bad influence". In the 24th century, being raised solely raised by your mom was regarded normal and even commended. Plus you got Captain Picard as your father figure role model. How cool is that?

3. Women can be strong leaders. This aspect of TNG has been mentioned over and over. At the time that the series was airing on the networks, the women's movement was still a huge issue. Except for Kate Mulgrew's Mrs. Columbo (where Mulgrew went on to become Capt. Janeway of the Star Trek Voyager series) and Kate Jackson's role in Scarecrow and Mrs. King, I didn't have many strong female role models to watch on TV. But with TNG, I saw Yar, Dr. Crusher, and Troi every week tackling various issues. I especially admired Crusher - not only being a single mom, but also a scientist. Often when I'm in the lab and suddenly realize that I haven't had lunch or supper, I can hear Dr. Crusher saying, "Sometimes I get so busy with research, I forget to eat!" (Lower Decks, Season 7)

Two years later after TNG premiered, I convinced my mom to drive me 3 hours to another city to attend my first Star Trek/comic con. She dropped me off at the door to the hotel lobby and I found myself with 500 people that loved Star Trek not as much as I did, but way, way, WAY more. Nichelle Nichols (Lt. Uhura) was the main (and only) guest star at that con 23 years ago. She graciously answered throngs of questions, sang for us, and signed my very first autograph picture! Although I was surrounded by strangers, I felt at ease and comfortable with them. They understood me and I understood them. After that experience, I made a point to visit any convention nearby and bucket list item #5 was written: to meet and thank the entire TNG cast in person. Thanks Calgary Expo for "making it so".

Getting "The Call"

I'm eating lunch and my mobile buzzes crazily. Five texts, from someone who I have no idea, begging me to play goal for them. I am an on-call goalie for several leagues, so this isn't out of the norm, but this catches my eye, "need you to play for Edmonton in the Provincials in two weeks".


Echo: the Provincials... Provincials... Provincials...

Cue the choking on my lunch.

Those who aren't familiar with Women's hockey, the Provincials are a big deal. Women's hockey doesn't have the same exposure as Men's hockey with various pro-leagues. There's no Women's NHL but a mostly unknown Canadian Interuniversity Sport (CIS) league. In Women's hockey, to be a professional player, you're either on the National team or a CIS team or (most typically) both. The next level down is playing at the Provincials. So being on a recreational team and called to join a Provincial contender team is like being on a WHL/AHL team called to play in the NHL Stanley Cup playoffs.


My knee jerk reaction:

However, my first text response: You do realize that I'm a rec level goalie? (Hey, I have to be honest here, in case this was a mistaken identity)
Provincial team captain: Oh yeah! That's no issue with us. Besides you come highly recommended!
Uh, thanks... who recommended me?
Lynn (a league referee - thanks Lynn!). We're really needing an answer in the next 24h to make the carding deadline. Can you commit?
(Talk about pressure) I am very interested in playing, but there's also the issue of getting a release from my current teams. I need to contact my current rec team Captain to ensure everything's kosher.
Great! Let me know when you hear!


So my people talked to their people who talked to the Hockey Alberta league people, I'm feeling like a young guy on trade deadline day, and suddenly I'm in Banff suiting up for my first game.

We were able to win the first game (3-1, take that Calgary!), but lost the next two games (0-2 and 1-9...ouchie). The last game I felt horrible, but considering that we weren't discipline enough to keep out of the penalty box (note the penalty against us coming up in the last picture) and the opposing team was the team who won the Cup, it didn't seem so bad in the end. And besides, I kept my promise to myself that I would keep any game "goals against" score under 10.


Overall, the experience was fantastic! I never played at such a high level. Although I was very nervous, I surprised myself with denying some break-aways and great glove catches. I felt like a pro player with between period ice floods. A 15 min break/breather between periods in the dressing room, with fresh Gatorade awaiting us - imagine that! My body survived the 2 days, though the next week after I was kindly reminded that I'm not in my mid 20s.


Post game drinks with the team (as I was still trying to remember everyone's name) involved some wooing conversation that "You're not a rec goalie, you're a pro goalie. Your talents are being wasted at the lower level tiers! Come play with us full time next year!" My rec league team captain cornered me right after that weekend and said, "You're staying with us as long as you stay in this city." Nice to be wanted.


I must give a huge thanks to everyone who bought meat/cabbage rolls for this event's fundraiser. I do hate begging for money to something that people can't directly enjoy with me. With every save I managed to make (and I did have a fair share of them), I named each one after you guys.

Bucket listings...

Holy - May 2011 was my last check in here? So much for that 2011 resolution: one blog/month. Eh. It's not like there's a race going on here.

So 2011 is finito and onwards the 2012. Update of sorts:

Last blog post was about me discovering that I kinda like gardening/planting. Main thing I learnt about that: don't plant your strawberries under a clothes dryer vent. It wasn't even my vent, but rather my neighbour's vent that for some reason is on my side of the fence. So no berries to enjoy, but I did get the "tomato plant that keeps on giving". I never had so many tomatoes before. The flowers faired well on my front entrance. In the backyard, I found out "if you plant and forget it, it'll eventually grow in the future" as a couple plants popped up that I forgot I had.

The mice issue lingered far longer than it should've. Today was the first time I had a TOASTED bagel for breakfast. Yessiirreeee, I took out the toaster that I purchased 9 months ago and finally used it. Things learnt: toasted morning bread is a God-given thing. Cherish it.

Work wise, it's been a cat and mouse (ha) game of "we'll renew your contract". The good news is that I'm renewed til March 2012, giving me a full 2 years of official post-doc status. Bad news, I've yet to find the next job that HAS money. All current opportunities require me to find my own salary. So grant writing commences Jan 3rd and we carry on with job searching. My hope is that I can keep my current job until I have another position with money.

Speaking about my job, we did move into a shiney new building. Things learnt here: new doesn't mean working condition. The first two months were spent talking to maintenance folks with water/flooding issues, autoclave issues, and the automatic blinds issues (whom I've appropriately named HAL - HAL decides when my office needs more light; thanks HAL, now I can't see my computer screen).  I call my building a trophy wife: great to look at, but does crap all.

I'm just coming off a huge high from the recent holidays; no, Santa bring me a new job, but rather I crossed off item #3 from my bucket list: to hug and thank my Grade 7 teacher face to face.

Being a deaf kid had its obvious obstacles with learning how to communicate within this world. But being the sole deaf kid in a regular school system - that just add that much more strife to my upbringing. I was bullied daily and even at an early age was falling into a deep hole of hopelessness that it wouldn't get better.

Enter a teacher named Sandi.

Grade 7 was my last year at elementary school before the deep plunge into scary highschool. I found myself dreading five more years of being picked upon. Sandi somehow sensed my angst and encouraged me to chat with her about things. Soon it became a ritual after school chat with her, which quickly became my daily solace. Within these talks, Sandi encouraged me to attend univsersity, "Highschool will be difficult, but university all that crap about being different falls away. You'll be great in university! Don't worry, it gets better!"

Me? University? A deaf kid finally fitting in? Riiiiiight.

Fast forward to my first undergrad year, I found myself being inspired with the course material and meeting people who had the same interests as me. After that first year, I found myself saying, "She was right, it did get better."

Because of her extra effort, it was high on my bucket list to find and thank Sandi. This also included to write a letter of recommendation about her positive influence on me. Her kindness and encouragement needed to be known, needed to acknowledged, needed to be shared. But she disappeared on me. I had no leads for two decades on where to find her... that is until this past fall.

Google is a wonderful thing at times.

Suddenly I had her email address and we were exchanging emails. The letter of recommendation letter was written shortly after and sent to her superiors. People were soon asking me whether I won the lotto because I had this crazy huge smile on my face for weeks.

"No, but I crossed off a high bucket list item. To me that's a huge huge win."

Things lead up to this past holiday season, where we found ourselves in the same city at the same time and arranged a breakfast meetup. As soon as eye contact was made, warm hugs were instantly exchanged, followed by a 6h chat that ended much too soon. Although my memory of Sandi was from the eyes of a 12 year old; the warm, caring, enthusiastic, positive person who gave me hope so long ago still shines. Her life journey has been incredible and she continues positively influence people in the education system today, both provincially and nationally. She'll always be my dear mentor and now my close friend.

If you have a teacher(s) who inspired you, I encourage, no, challenge you this year to seek them out and let them know about the impact they made on your life. When the right teacher and student connect, everyone wins.

Encore, merci beaucoup Sandi!

A Charlie Brown Blind Date

One fateful evening whilst talking to my mom about the upcoming plans to my trip homeward for the holidays, my mother suddenly says, "I think I should warn you about this..."

My mom isn't an overly dramatic person, so when she starts a sentence like this, I'm expecting something bad, "Oh? What's up?"

"You remember Dianne?"

I think for a second and go down the very large list of people my mother knows (which is about 1/4 of my hometown), "Your house keeper?"

"No."

Thinking more, "Oh that lady whom I met this past thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, she REALLY likes you."

"I'm a likable person... what's up?"

"Well she has this 35 yr old UNMARRIED son that you're going to go have coffee with when you're here visiting."

(Silence for 20 some seconds...)

"You did WHAT?!!"

"I have nothing to do with this. It's Dianne, she loves you and feels that you just HAVE to meet her son."

"Because....? I mean asides the fact that we're similar aged and unattached, why would this be a match? What's his name? What does he do?"

"Uhhh, Steve? Stephen? And he may work at Safeway (a grocery mart)? I'm not sure."

".... You haven't even MET him?"

Grrrreat. I felt so betrayed. Granted it's been awhile on the dating scene. I don't mind the chance to meet someone new, especially if a common friend believes that we may hit it off. However admitting that she hasn't even MET the guy, that doesn't sit well in my book. My mom is single and should know, like every other single girl on the planet, that this scenario is a taboo.

Sensing my utter dislike of the situation my mom played the guilt card, "Well I really like Dianne as a friend and it would be impolite for you to say no."

I don't protest knowing that there's nothing that I can do to stop not one, but TWO mothers with an agenda, and hung up the phone to ponder my fate.

Of course this becomes a hot topic among my friends upon hearing the news. I debated letting people know of this blind date, but figured that it would be at the very least a funny story to relay. My thoughts first rounded the prospect that Steve works at a grocery. My fear was that he was a cart boy in which translated to "low ambitions". It's not that I'd only date professionals, but guys whom I'm interested in usually have some sort of ambition. The next is looks of course...why hasn't my mother seen this treasure of the human males? I was not expecting the Hugh Jackman or George Clooney type. But still, if his mom is pimping for him ... what does THAT say? Someone mentioned, "Well he could be absolutely RIPPED!"

"How you figure that?"

"If he is a 35 yr old cart boy, think of all the years he spent pushing long lines of carts through snowy parking lots?"

Ha ha.

So I go home and while eating the first family meal, "Oh the date is set for next Tuesday."

"I see. He'll come pick me up for dinner?"

"Well, not exactly," my mom says nervously.

Uh oh. What now?

"They are coming over with Chinese food."

"Wha? They?"

"Yeah, Dianne is coming over bringing Chinese food and you'll meet Steve then."

Ok, I lost it right there and threw a laughing fit. WTF?!

"Since when is it called a blind date with BOTH mothers are present? Aren't we going to have the pastor over that week too? Why not ask him to come Tuesday? We'll make it an arranged marriage package deal!"

This whole scenario was passing the stratosphere of being surreal.

Tuesday night arrives. Apparently Steve had some smarts and talked himself out of the dinner afterall. He would pick me up for coffee later on in the evening. The dinner with his mom was still on tho. She arrived on time with food in hand. The tension was sooooo thick, you'd could stand a spoon in the air. After some pleasantries, Dianne said to me, "I hope you don't think this is weird."

Me deciding to be just me as always, I put my arm around her and chirped back, "Dianne dear, we're waaay past the point of being weird."

Forced laughter.

Later on, while I'm serving the table, Dianne gushed, "Oh my, you're just like Cinderella."

She's flirting with me? I looked around the table seeing uncomfortable faces everywhere. Oh well, I said in full glee, "Why? Is Steve picking me up in a pumpkin?"

More forced laughter.

Not even 10 minutes into eating - ding dong. Steve made an early appearance. He entered the room as I'm mid mouthful of chow mein. My mom decided to introduce him as if she's known him for years and he looked blankly at me. I swallowed and smiled. Ok... now what? I asked him whether he'd like to join us. He said "no". There's little conversation, as if everyone was waiting for me to start the date. AWKWARD much? So I resigned to quickly finishing my food and getting my coat while Steve watched a bunch of women talk about crafts.

Just before we leave, "Oh where are you guys going?" quipped Dianne.

"Why? Would you like to join us there too?" I answered back.

At this point we were all experts on forced laughter.

We get into the car. Steve has said nothing other than "Hi" to the to dinner group. I turned to him and said, "Well, I must admit. Usually I wait til' date 8 or 12 before having dinner with the mother."

Forced laughter is a familial trait in Dianne's family.

So onto the date itself. In which was (as I predicted) anti-climatic. To my relief, Steve wasn't missing a body part or sported a clubbed foot, however no sparks flew for physical attraction on my side. Steve was just average in my sights. That's not a turn off - I'm not a model myself. He had a kind face, but no weak knees effect (again, as expected).

He took me to the nearest coffee place - a sign to me that he didn't want to go all out to impress for this epic date. We ordered our drinks and the "fun" began. I took the mostly-silent-car-ride as an indicator that I would have to be the initiator of the conversation, so I started in with the general questions. No cart boy, but cashier... for almost 18 years. I tried to put a positive spin on this: Steady job FTW? But in the back of my mind: we don't like challenging ourselves do we? 

His mom told me in that 10 minute supper that he LOVES science. Shows promise, let's move to that. He asked me about my job and was really really really interested that I used to wrangle worms for my Masters. Bacteria were dull, but worms - WOW (and I'm the opposite). His love of science really was from reading Popular Science magazine. I have read a few issues in my day. For me the mag is about hyped science gadgets and far out theoretical ideas. Kinda like reading a magazine from the 1950s that everyone in 2010 will drive flying cars. Possible, but waaaay out there. I tried to chat about the latest buzz of NASA (in)famous recent release of arsenic life. He hadn't heard of it. Back to goats being able to milk spider silk. Riiiight. 

Onto hobbies, which he had none (and didn't want to add to that fact). Oooook, I volunteered my own hobby: hockey, natch. "Oh, I hate hockey." (BUZZZER) It's not that my Person Right requires a DIE HARD passion of hockey. He doesn't have to like it. But "hate"? And no follow up about why? How long? Not an inkling of interest that he wanted to get to know my sport. So I soon asked, "Well do you like any sports?"

"I'm not a sports person."

"So I take it that you're not a Rider fan either." (see my last blog entry)

He shook his head in disgust, as if the mere idea to support the Green n' White was laughable. (BUZZ BUZZ BUZZZZZZZZZER)

I was waiting for him to ask me more about myself, my family, anything that remotely would show that he was interested in getting to know me. He was interested with how long my folks were divorced (great date question!), but I understood the inquiry as "unhealed wounds" with prior knowledge that his own folks recently divorced... 5 years ago. Nearing the end of the date, I found myself listening to him complain about the 101 ways to piss a cashier off. Even my jokes about servicing crazy customers fell flat. At the end of 112 minutes (yes, I was the counting minutes!) I was grasping for straws on topics regarding all-about-Steve. If this date showed me anything, it's reaffirming that deaf people make fantastic listeners.

Finally the shoppe was closing and Steve asked me "When are you in town next?" with the tone like he had to ask. I mentioned that the next visit I would busy due to my granny's surgery, to which he only said, "Ok." No phone number, no email, no facebook friend request. He took me back and I chalked the date as all hype and no finish. One for my books.

Five days later, my mom nods to her computer screen. An email! From Dianne! (of course):

I finally got to talk to Steve about his date with Nancy. He said that she was nice but far too "with it" for him. Please tell Nancy that I'm so sorry for putting her through this ordeal. She's such a nice, funny, smart, good looking girl. Steve is just stuck in his ways and won't see the forrest for its trees.

A nice rejection letter - FROM HIS MOM. 

One for my books indeed.

Edit: One of the BEST comments prior to the fateful night was: So he's your blind date and you are his deaf one? LAWL! Thanks Tiki!

the Old Black Rum's got a hold on me

It's been an eight year repos, but this past Saturday I finally got to dance in my seat (and out of it) once again thanks to five delightful fellas from a lil' rock we Canucks like to call Newfoundland. Great Big Sea stopped by for an evening of songs and comical anecdotes to a sold out crowd. I managed to snap up the 2nd last ticket (great seat too, front centre, 12 rows back) thanks to Dawn with her mentioning "oh yeah, we're going to Great Big Sea this Saturday" when I enquired about her weekend plans. I think my face went all crumpled-fetal-position like upon hearing the news as she later asked her boyfriend to give up his ticket for me (awwww, I'm touched). Never to fear! I have ticketmaster magic!

So after a delightful dinner with a group of friends, off to the concert hall on campus. We split up making our way to the theater (different autos) and whilst walking to the venue I was soon approached by an elderly lady (my guess in her early 70s) with a cane who looked lost. I put on my helpful smile as she beelined for me, apparently a lady on a mission.

"Excuse me, but where's the Jubee?" in her small adorable voice.

"Oh, are you going to see Great Big Sea?" I asked.

Her face lit up, "Oh yes, I've been waiting for this all year!"

Doris apparently has never seen GBS preformed live, but "listened to them many times on TV." We chatted more about ourselves. We discovered that both of us were prairie folks, me being from Saskatchewan and she from some small community in Manitoba. But less chit-chatter, more walking to the venue, she was shuffling so fast that I had to sprint a bit to keep up to her. I later spotted her in the front row, dancing with her lil' cane in hand - man, there's a fan!

Speaking about fans, there were all types - including dogs. I found myself sitting next two blind ladies who brought their guide dogs. I mentioned to one with the black lab (Jeb) that I bet her dog was a bigger GBS fan than her. She giggled back. We were quite the group - two Blinds, two dogs, and the Deaf chick. I must apologize to Jeb though, I think I stepped on his tail a few times while dancing. Yes, we danced - very few times the crowd was sitting for the entire three hour show. The band did two full sets, then two encores.

The opening song got everyone to their feet right away: Donkey Riding. Oh Tawnya, I wish you were there! Everytime I hear this song, I think of you cracking up. The rest of the show was filled with great foot stomping music and laughs as Alan Doyle would chat about the Liquid Angels. I also found out this evening that Alan was able to get a spot on Russel Crow's latest version of Robin Hood. More reason to go rent that one.

Before the show I said to Dawn that I hope that they would play two of my fave songs: Excursion Around the Bay and Old Black Rum. The first was one best memory of GBS concert I attended on Parliament Hill one Canada Day eight years ago. The Black Rum has a special place for me for the past 5 years. In my pixelated gaming life, I named my crew "Black Rum" in honour of GBS. My crewmates have all heard my version on this song on Ventrilo. A lot of my pixelated pirate life has been singing sea shanties with many folks around the world, GBS songs included. I was ecstatic when Excursion was played in the first encore. And the final song of the night... 

 

It's safe to say that I'm bias for GBS, but truly, if you ever want to hear Canadian music at its best, definitely do yourself a favour to go see them when they are in town. All they are missing is lumberjacks, maple syrup,  and beavers to complete your Cdn experience.

What a feeling!

Short blog today folks as it's been a busy weekend. Yesterday facebook finally was fruitful as I caught a free ticket to see The Lion King musical (thanks Jules!). I saw the broadway production 7 years ago in Toronto and eventhough I knew what to expect, I still suffered a little Stendhal syndrome with the opening ensemble act. Watching those animal costumes walk onto the stage is breathtaking. If you have the chance to see The Lion King musical - by all means go!

This week's episode on something sciencey Sunday - a guest video! I know that this isn't directly from me, but honestly it's too good to pass up. My fellow colleagues Matt and Roz have been up to madness on the floor above me with their August 1st video. Truth be told... I've been caught dancing to both songs in the lab. And secretly, I've always wanted to use the emergency shower like so.

A lil' Salsa No. 5

Last night some labmates and I decided to take in Latino Salsa night at a local pub. Yes, scientists do dance. In fact we enjoy the opportunity to shake it. Just attend the last night of any scientific conference, it's a dance dance revolution on that dance floor. As a result, I've danced with various professors, including those that later examined me at my thesis defense. I guess I danced well enough to leave the impression that I do know a thing or two about the rhumba and E. coli. With this day n' age of TV dance competitions, traditional dances are gaining new life in the social scenes. People are now wanting not to just dance, but dance well. No more shaking hips aimlessly or jumping in a mosh pit. No, put on those heels ladies, don on a fedora hat gents... we're going to make beautiful music together.

Needless to say, we had a great time. In fact I was impressed with the XY stock on the dance floor as usually at these social gatherings, I'll dance with women more than men. Several men certainly knew how to move. As for myself, eh... I think I should take up some lessons. I remember my grandfather teaching me the waltz and polka at the tender age of 7, but for the salsa, not so lucky for the simple reason no 7 year old should shake their hips in that manner (yeah, call me old fashion).

Since we're on the salsa side, a lil' Gypsy Kings and my fave, "Djobi Djoba". You can't help but not to shake something listening to this!

holy sh!t it's fall already?

Maaaan this summer was a blur. Okay 30 second update:

The most vivid memories were the 10 days in Canada's Ocean PlayGround (aka Nova Scotia). I took my mom there for her 60th bday. Although she turns 60 in November, I decided in July that I'd take her for three reasons:

1. the maritimes in November don't have the best weather
2. the November I'm finishing my thesis, thus I don't have time for a 10 day retreat (though come November that's exactly what I would wish to have)
3. summer holidays are meant to be in summer

So we had an awesome time. Spending 10 days with your mother may seem irritating, but we managed not to get on each others nerves for 9 days. The 10th day, I think we were just cranky due to the whirlwind tireness of running around the province. We did all the tourisy things, but will definitely return to the fave spots. There's a cove in the highlands with our name on it, definitely going back there!

SoCal Kelly visited me again, she braved leaving her nirvana of sunny California to northern Canada. Sadly I was preoccupied with experiments, but managed to take off nights to enjoy the visit with her. We always enjoy our time together.

August... back to the bench, madly doing new experiments for a manuscript resubmission and then more experiments to leave what I'm calling a "legacy" for my lab. The data coming from it will jump start endless projects for the next decade or more. The downside is that I'll have to wait that long before getting credit for it in journal form. Woe well.

September - the return of undergrads underfoot. I think the more time you spend in university is porportional to the underlining dislike of lost undegrads. They can't help but be clueless and immature. But seriously, don't ask me to hold your hand to show you where the bathrooms are. I often just screw with their minds, "Oooooh you want THAT room... well you're in the wrong building."

The good news about fall - ice hockey begins again. I'm back in the crease. This time I'm going to improve on a few things: butterfly stops with my stick where it's SUPPOSED to be. The other is working on my weight. I'm not thin, neither pudgey. Clincally I'm obese, but I'm wanting to really work on that. Nothing drastic, just better eating and a lil more active. Who knows, I might shave off a dozen stones.

What's an intreresting blog without photos? All text and no eye candy make a scientist unpublishable (ick, need to work on catchy sayings too). So me will try to find some comics/pics that I enjoy. Maybe state my mood of the day.

I rented a van over this past weekend to pick up a TV from a friend. It had a GPS system on it (free of charge) which reminded me of this comic from XKCD.com

once more with feeling...

It's amazing how easily your "no plans" weekend can quickly change into "cultural" weekend.

A labmate o' mine picked up tickets to see the latest local production so we put down our pipettors and took in an evening of theater. It was a 2 fer 1 billing, "What Gives?" and something about a "South Sea balloon" (the latter was less memorable than the former apparently). Same actors in both skits, a foursome troop and actually it was fairly entertaining. "What Gives" was a musical of sorts which are the productions I enjoy the most. Call me corny, but I enjoy the idea that you could be sitting on a bus or even working at your lab bench and suddenly you hear a music intro, you begin a melody, and everyone around you knows the words, bursting into the song with a smart choregraphy display! I think the world would be a better place if every now n then that would happen...

...and all that jazz!