Schroedingered

I need to agonize.

Ok. Last week I killed my car. Slid 'er into a curb, and the damage was finally great enough that it would have cost more to fix than I'd see from reselling it. Sent 'er to the junkyard.

This weekend I was out buying cars, and I did my usual beforehand agony. I decided to focus on two cars, the Mazda3 and Toyota Corolla. Based on what I'd been led to believe was the usual length for a car loan, I opted to focus on the Corolla - blander styling and performance, but possibly more reliable, and definitely less expensive. Yesterday I test-drove one and put my name down it. Tonight, after a good day's skiing, I decided to torture myself by seeing just how much a similar Mazda would have cost.

20 bucks more a month, assuming the same length of loan.

FUCK.

So now, I'm what I think of as "Schroedingered" - surely you've heard by now of Schroedinger's cat. If not, it's a thought experiment involving a cat that, when put into a box with a mechanism that gives it a 50% chance of dying before the box is opened, enters an uncertain state in which it is both dead and alive. (Sidenote: This can't happen, due to large scale quantum effects, and is pretty evil besides. Poor kitty.) The point is, whether I buy a Toyota or a Mazda depends on one factor: whether I can get the same financing. And I won't know that until tomorrow. I feel like the cat.

Except not so much with the dying.

Heur ist mein tag

Association's a hell of a thing. I've been listening to a few tracks by Blumchen, they're... well they're happy German dance pop. It's the shit they dig Over There I guess. It's catchy. Anyway one of them basically translates to how she's having this really awesome day; unfortunately it's also the one associated with the Secret Nazi Forest over on YTMND. So every time I hear this song now, I think Hitler.

The worst part is, it's still a really happy song. So when I say I think Hitler, I mean chibi animated Adolf, trying to do awful things, like run out on the check in a kosher restaurant, and then Roosevelt and Churchill show up and ruin his plans and it's der tinyfuehrer running from explosions. Oh yeah and there's a goofy little dance with Tojo and Mussolini in there. And then Churchill rises up behind them and bongs their heads together.

This is why I shouldn't smoke drugs. It's weird enough inside my head as-is. (This puppy had better not generate any unsavory traffic.)

Halifax

Here's where I reduce 4 full days of exploring and touristness to two words: Not bad.

I didn't fall in love with the place, like I was thinking I might. That may be because I didn't really immerse myself in the city; it may just be because of the frustrating roads in the city. It is a beautiful place. But after spending a few days there I could appreciate what Calgary has going for it.

The highways, though. Good lord. Best drive I've ever gone on.

The Magic Goes Away

The biggest news story of the year is the question at hand. Personally, I think it's going to be gas, unless something monumental happens between now and December. Like the return of either Jesus or John Lennon. Katrina was terrible, and everyone's getting out of the way of Rita, but in the back of everybody's mind (and the news reports) is how much gas prices went up after New Orleans got clotheslined, and how much more they might go up if the Texas refineries go down. Hopefully people are starting to realize just how much we depend on the mana of our times.

In moto news - barely used it at all the past couple of weeks, between Gwen's visit and it being nice and cold out. It was -2ºC out this morning! Frost on all windows! ARG DAMMIT I want my summer back.

Drone

Ever have one of those days where you just don't want to move?

Gwen made it out here last Friday. It was great. We did a whirlwind tour of the museums of Calgary; there was much driving. We hung out like motherfuckers. We watched many movies, ate many meals together, even did a bit of the domestic thing.

We got rather attached to eachother, and quick. Then yesterday she went back to the Big Smoke.

Ouch. Didn't expect that to hurt as much as it did. Hence the not wanting to move today. Ah well. No use being a big soppy about it; it's not like we both didn't know it was coming, or like we'll never talk to eachother again.

Gwen, if you ever read this, that was the best time I've had in a good long while. Thanks, babe.

---

So! I am now 24. Nearly a quarter-century old. Good god damn. Maybe I should start doing something with my life.

Tomorrow: Glue the car mirror back on; get the bike running again before bad things happen in her tank and carb. Take out the garbage, renew the library card, do some laundry, and end your mope. Dinner with the folks. Shoot the shit with Matt. Rock on.

Lousy Air Force

I have a mild case of photic sneeze reflex. That's the thing where people go outdoors, and as soon as the sun hits them, they start sneezing. I've always done it; some years it's been better, some worse.

Today I found out that it's enough to disqualify one from becoming a combat pilot. I imagine the thinking goes, "You want us to entrust you with a gigantic, multimillion-dollar lump of technology, and have you endanger it by sneezing as soon as you break cloud cover?"

This is just one more nail in the coffin of my boyhood aspirations. My occasional asthma and definite myopia came first, of course... but the sneezing thing is a total blindside.

If anyone wants me I'll be over in the corner, huddled in a fetal position and weeping softly.

This Week in Motorcycling Cont'd

Something I didn't tell you about last time - On Thursday, I was trying to ride up on to one of the steps outside my parent's house, just so I wouldn't be parking in the driveway. Didn't quite make it up, the bike rolled back, and I snapped the windshield in half against my burly, burly chest. (Why must I be so huge?)

Replacement will have to wait until Tuesday, as it seems like that's the earliest any glass supply places will be open. I could pick up some acrylic at Home Despot or Revy/Rona/Whatevs, but they're selling twice as much as I need right now. And I don't feel like making a spare, so suck it.

In other news, Gwen's out here in less than a week. Panic.

May blog more later.

This Week in Motorcycling

Note to self: 1. Turn gas switch to "on" instead of "prime" so's you don't flood the engine.
2. Power out of corners, Mr. Wobblypants.
3. CLEAN THE FILTER AFTER A DIRT RIDE. Gaw.

Other than that, Biking Is Fun. There may be a mini-bikemeet from a message board I go to; if not, no big deal.

Future Shop better appreciate my sticking with Canadian companies where possible. That's $30 worth of Canuck loyalty for my battery charger.

Edit: The Trouble in Louisiana... I don't know what to say. It's too big, and it's awful. The political and economic repercussions of this... I don't even know where to START.

Living in the future!

We are. Even to someone from twenty or thirty years ago, the electronics we have now are nothing short of miraculous. (The transportation tech leaves something to be desired - where, indeed, are the flying cars?)

What prompts this is I just bought a Creative MP3 player. 1 gig of memory. A freakin' gigabyte. That's two hundred songs, plus change. In an object the size of a Bic lighter. From the data storage point, it's 12.5 times larger than my 386. Plus it's got an FM radio. And the battery takes up half the device.

I have no idea how this shit works! Hard disks I can at least fool myself that I understand a little bit about how they work. But flash memory, or the onboard sound card? No freakin' clue! It's pretty cool though.

Hope to ride tomorrow. Bike's nice and clean after offroading last weekend and she's been woefully underused. Summer won't last forevers.

Ex-pats of the Blue Mountain Symphony Orchestra

When strapped for title, title will be filled in by non-apropos Matt Good song name. The above sounds like a Who song.

Saturday - rode all over the city, then out to the country. 4X4ing with a guy from work. Good fun. More fun was riding the Kawi on gravel. That's sketchy, I tells ya.

Quadding looks like teh fun, too.

Real highlight was riding down out of the mountains, straight into the rising moon. Damn.