I don't get it

It seems baffling to me that Caronport is home to Briercrest which trains many young men and women to work with children and youth, and sends many to do so with various community groups, camps, drop-in centers, and churches; YET the kids and teens of Caronport itself seem to have nothing going on here.  I always see kids bumming around at the coffeeshop or cruising the streets when there is so much potential and resources available here.  Couldn't the school have a paid internship to give back to the community and the people that support the school?

Commuting to MJ

Living in Caronport will most likely mean that you will commute to work in Moose Jaw.  Yes there are those that will work at the school as educators, office support, or in the services that support the school and those are wonderful jobs to have, however the competition for those jobs are high, the jobs themselves are low-paying, and it seems in my experience that you need to have connections to obtain them.  So for myself, and many like me in the community who have to pay bills, the likely option is employment in Moose Jaw, which is fine.  Actually if there were such a thing as a great commute, the commute to MJ from Caronport would be it: it's short, with little traffic, and on a double-lane highway.  The reality is that if push-came-to-shove you could make the trip from MJ in 8 minutes; I did it once when I was approaching curfew once in my early college days.  The ease of commuting however, rests upon one key ingredient: a reliable vehicle; a   lesson I learned the hard way this week.
For the past several weeks I have had difficulty with my vehicles, but had back-ups in my other vehicle and my roommates vehicle, but this past week I was alone and found myself up a creek with no paddle.  While it started weeks prior, the real problem began Monday.  On Monday, I was on my way to work and realized that my vehicle no longer could shift up; it remained in 4th gear on the highway, and after stopping at the first light in MJ it remained in first.  I did arrive at work and my thought was, "Oh well, I can drive it home slowly at 20km with the hazard lights and figure something out."  However, when I got out of work my van would not start.  I proceeded to some friends house who lived nearby, but they were not home.  I managed to mooch a ride from another friend and made it home.  The next morning I went to the OK Tire shop in Caronport to get my van towed back from MJ, and I caught a ride in with them to work.  Let me say this, if you are in the area and need fair work on your vehicle, Jay and his staff are great! Ok Tire has been an answer to prayer in this whole thing.  Anyways, I caught a ride with the tow truck; I tagged-along with them as they dropped-off another vehicle first.  I had contacted a friend about a ride after work, but they were working, so I popped a message on facebook requesting a ride (I offered gasmoney or food).  When I was done work, I was crushed to see that nobody responded to my request.  I know I could have probably called someone, but in my sense of abandonment I decided I would walk to the highway and try to hitchhike or even walk home.  It was incredibly hot and humid; 38 degrees.  Coming off being on my feet at work the previous 8 hours didn't make it ideal, but I figured I had to do what I had to do. Staying in MJ didn't seem like an option because there was a courtesy car I could use from the garage.  So I set out.  In 40 minutes I went from downtown to the highway, and in another hour I walk 6km out of town.  With 12km ahead of me and the sun setting, I was giving up on hitchhiking and setting my mind more on the fact that I would likely have to walk the whole way.  Hitchhiking is a discouraging thing; people drive as far over in the next lane to avoid you or the flip you off, or they mock you as they speed by.  I realize that a man of my size and having been unshaven probably didn't help my situation, but in light of my experience I have a great deal of sympathy for the many hitchhikers one sees on the #1 highway.  Anyways, I was spotted by some friends who were heading into MJ and spun around to take me with them; they even bought me ice cream which was a lift to my spirit.  The next day I went to the shop and was loaned a courtesy car; a 1992 Acura, which was a blessing to drive.  However, I came out after work and it didn't start.  After an hour to wait for the owner to come out and try to get it to start, I finally made it home, but seemingly had no vehicle again.  Luckily, Jay called me later and offered me the garage courtesy van.  So on Thursday, I went to work for the fourth day in a different vehicle and when I came out after work I was extremely nervous as to whether or not I would be stranded again; I had even joked to several people that if something happened I would retire from driving.  Thankfully, the vehicle started fine and I was able to return it to the shop.  Friday was my day-off and had no real need for a vehicle, although I feared that with my luck I would have another kidneystone attack and be stuck at home, but it didn't.  My fortune continued to better itself when my sister-in-law arrived with a car that my in-laws were graciously loaning to us for the time being.  I also found out on Friday that my van's transmission is indeed finished, forcing me now to sell it as is or for parts and try to recover some of the costs it has sunk me.
So this week was not a typical, boring week in Caronport.  I have gained a greater appreciation for vehicles and for those that are there to help me when I am down.

Solitary Confinement

Ok, I know that I am not literally a prisoner...I actually don't feel like a prisoner; let the focus of the title be its first word, "solitary"  Spending this summer in Caronbored alone, has made me miss the relationships I have and feel like a tool for wasting the time I had to enjoy them more.   Today is a bummer in the sense that I am missing the usual week at Waskesieu with Rachelle's family which is spent continually chilling with people I love.  The mornings are a progression of going from one cabin to another to have coffee, followed by lunch, hanging out at the beach or in the boat, and the evenings are topped with games; some may think that to be boring, but it is paradise to me. (My own family has their own version, but in shorter time frames)  I'm choked that I wasn't better with money and could have afforded to go, if even for one day.  But it's not just that, I miss alot of people down here: my parents, my siblings, my extended family and friends.  I dwell on how I could have spent more time with them, which is nothing new.  Take for example my brother whose closest in age to me:  At one time he was living across the street from me, and I don't remember spending that much time with him during that period, then he moved to Saskatoon which was still a day-trip away, but now he's a province over.  I wish I didn't waste time watching sports or whatever and would have spent more hanging out.  Even with my other siblings who have lived in the same town as me the past years and were a 5 minute walk away, I could have seen them more, but didn't and now I'm hours away.  The point I am trying to make is being alone makes you think about what you could've done better; start making the most of your time with those dear to you before you live with regret alone.  I'm looking forward to my wife finishing her summer school, and I'm very excited to be with my family at my sister's wedding in a few weeks.

Yeah! I get to push the panic button!

One thing small, boring towns like to do is push the panic button; Caronport being no exception.  What else breaks the boredom of regular life in town like the worst disaster possible happening?  For the past two days, there has been issued warnings from weather services that ideal conditions for tornadoes could exist and this was music to the bored in Caronport, something to get amped about.  In response, emergency shelters were prepared and everyone sent out emails to everyone.  Now I need to note preparation is something good, and should be taken advantage of in this day and age; many tragedies of the past were due to being unprepared.  Anyways, the day of anticipation came yesterday and everyone bubbled throughout the day into a froth of panic.  Finally, the black clouds rolled in and it happened: a tornado touched down....20km away.  Now despite the fact that tornadoes don't travel 20km or reproduce 20km from existing ones, the town didn't take this as relief that we were spared, but signs that we are doomed.  The fire department rolled through town with its sirens blazing yelling at anyone in the street to take cover; although when my roommate came out to see what happened he didn't understand one word that was yelled at him and went back inside to nap.  Following the incident, was the usual barrage of online statuses, and pictures of people sharing how they "dodged a close one".  And as you go through town you see people talking about how they survived the big storm of 2012.  But hey, what can you expect in a little boring town?

Bored? Why not exercise?

I get it.  You see the buff guys in prison who spend all their time working out; they do it because they have an abundance of time and have demons to wrestle with in that time.  I am not going to get ripped like Schwartzenegger, or run any marathons, but my time in Caronbored has got me working out again.  When you are in solitude and have little entertainment you have a lot of time with your thoughts.  Two options arise when wrestling your thoughts in solitude: one can continue to be tortured by such thoughts staring at the wall, or find a constructive way to work things out; exercise has been the solution for many to work things out.  I know I am not alone in this thinking; all year I never see my neighbor jog at all, but suddenly he's out in full force everyday. I too, have found running on my eliptical as a wonderful way to pass time, work my thoughts out, and feel good about myself.  I know many consider the routine of jogging/running as a metaphor for running from your problems, but this is hardly the case with myself.  Many can talk about the benefits of exercise on a purely physical perspective till they are blue in the face, but to focus on this alone is an injustice to the mental benefits and the more constructive use of time that comes with exercise.  Next time you think, "Wow, am I bored!"  Why don't you try exercise as a way to push yourself, keep yourself healthy, weigh things on your mind, and if anything use your freetime for something constructive.

Relief has arrived

Relief to my boredom has arrived in the form of a roommate; my friend Samuel was in need of a place to live till the end of the month and I gladly opened my guest room.  It has been ten years since I have had a roommate who wasn't my wife.  It's going to be a lot of fun to have someone to chat with, watch TV with, and play videogames with.  I think we would make a great reality show: we play off each other well in conversation, we have cultural differences, and yet we think alike in many ways.  Stay tuned, something might turn-up on your tv....or at least youtube.

Please, please be good!

When your routine is pretty dull and your outlook is bleak, you find ways to perk things up.  In a preview of retirement, my daily perk has become the age-old routine of going to check the mail.  Even though the mail is slowly going the way the dinosaur, and nothing important is on its way(that I know of) there is anticipation and hope that are built each day as I approach the post office; although the anticipation is usually dashed once that magical box is opened.  Although I am old enough to remember correspondence such as letters or cards to be a regular part of mail, I don't expect them anymore.  I am not expecting great opportunity to be presented either.  The reason, I think, that I anticipate the mail is that deep down I expect it to deliver a proverbial fulfillment of a financial wish; somehow a mysterious cheque or a notice of unexpected money being sent my way.  I don't know why I believe this, I know why I want this, but I've never experienced money appearing from nowhere before.  I'm Charlie Bucket before I open that box; uttering in my mind, "Please be good!"  I always hear about people that have that sort of thing happen to them; needing money and having it fall in their lap.  As I write this, I realize how foolish and insane such a notion sounds, but people do it all the time.  Take for instance lottery tickets.  The odds of winning on lottery tickets are insane; not many people personally know someone who wins, let alone win themselves, yet people by.  Come to think of it, people who I know that buy regular tickets often say that they do it for something to do, much like I am in my daily stroll to the post office; perhaps they are connected.  This notion that our financial woes are going to be wiped clean in a moment must either stem from our laziness and unwillingness to pay for our financial choices, be dreamed out of our exposure to fairy-tale media, or perhaps a product out of our unwillingness to trust that everything will be alright in the end; I'm sure I probably fall into a mixture of all three.  Perhaps it would be better for my self if I perked my daily routine with something productive like a garden, then my trip would actually have daily progress and not the utter daily collapse of hope in an obscure, all-in-one payoff.  Boredom makes the mundane interesting and causes one to over-analyze everything.

Name that sound

An odd game I have found myself playing lately is, "Name that Sound"  Call it a reflex to boredom, call it a shift in emphasis, but what it is in my thin-walled trailer and in a town that has slowed-down considerably I hear new sounds and try to figure out what they are and where they come from.  It's odd how you can spend time in the city where sounds abound everywhere and not notice any of them particularly, but when the overall volume is brought down you notice the symphony of small sounds playing over the silence.  My sister-in-law goes nuts sometimes because of the clocks in our house; we'll often find our clocks in the porch because she was trying to read or sleep and all she could hear was that faint tick-tock of the clock.  In Caronport there is a fantastic symphony of sound which starts with the birds.  First of all, if you like bird-watching the two places I call home (BH and Caronport) are fantastic; Caronport has quite a different array of birds compared to the north.  Among all the birdcalls I hear in my trailer or walking about, the one that stands-out is the Burrowing Owl.  The Burrowing Owl hoots in the day, and not a day goes by that I don't hear it once.  There are other numerous birds which I lack knowledge to identify, but are wonderful to hear.  In regards to sound, one cannot fail to mention the mash of mass transportation at Caronport.  Aside from the usual expected noise of personal vehicles, it is very common to hear trains as they rumble by, the echoes of semis at night, and the numerous jets that fly from the Moose Jaw Airbase, including the famous Snowbirds as they practice.  The final area of sound that sticks-out to me is my own trailer; now that the days get quite warm, there is a daily concert of cricks and cracks as the trailer is heating by the sun and then cools off in the evening.
The daily song of sound has made me realize how polluted our world is with noise; so much so that we are often missing much that plays underneath.  Not only are we missing much, but we are producing this state of being that is greatly uncomfortable with silence or a lack of noise.  One of the aspects that made me feel much older than my fellow student is that the average student now needs noise to work; students would flock to the library to work, but would have cranked earbuds in their ears to work to and would break the silence that others like myself wished to find.
I dare someone to fight the urge to drown-out the world and take the time to bask in the silence and the quiet noise their world has to offer.

Sitting on the dock of the bay

One of my new hobbies in Caronport is the art of watching traffic; which seems ironic at first.  Obviously this is not an option one considers when one is caught up in the busy life of a student, but is drummed up when one is unemployed with little money, a scarce social life,  is far-enough away from family, and hasn't the option of mind-numbing television like everyone else.  However, aside from such a list, it does include my love for prairie scenery,  drinking coffee, and basking in the sun.  Caronport has its original coffeeshop "The Point" (known as the Pilgrim to former students) which allows me to enjoy such.  I have often found myself with nothing to do, but sit at the grand window facing the highway scratched on the prairie while warming myself  with java and the common star God uses to sustain life on this earth.  Somedays I  marvel in the grand prairie skies that provide a majestic canvas of fluffy clouds and a mosaic of colors at sunset.  Sometimes I marvel at the traffic which pumps travelers and commerce through this province on the vein of highway 1 or the grand rail snakes which cart grain and potash to distant lands.  Or I simply observe the cast of characters, who like I,  reside in this town from different areas and gather at this one place for coffee or subs.  The real interest, however, is often found in the few that venture off the highway to investigate this town and its gas station.
The other day, an old-timer pulled up in his beaten pick-up truck and wobbled in.  His weary knees plopped himself into a chair and he gazed around the coffee-shop for a few minutes.  Finally he looks to me and chirps, "Is it hard to get service here?"
I quickly replied, "Oh, there's no waitresses here.  What were you looking for?"
"They used to have great pie here; I'm looking for pie!" he exclaimed.
His comment took me back to my early days as a student here, when they did have great pies of many kinds and it saddened me to tell him, "They did have great pie, but those days are gone."
He nodded his head as he rose and said, " They're gone in many ways... I spend most of my time these days looking for great pie."
And with that he turned away and left.  I watched him drive away and resumed my stare on the prairie picture north of me.

Why CaronBORED?

Why have I made this blog?  Well, I like to think of this little town I reside in as two different paintings: One painting is full of many vibrant colors splashed about on a canvas in various shapes, blending in different ways; this is Caronport during the school year of Briercrest College.  The other painting is 3 basic colors in 3 basic shapes on a canvas, in fact they are on the other painting but you can't see them for all the colors splashed over-top.  If I ask you to write a paragraph about the first painting, it's not problem; you can write several pages on various aspects, but you never address the shapes underneath cause you don't see them.  If I ask you to write about the second painting, you have to really examine the painting and you write about details that would never cross your mind with the other.
Living in Caronport is two scenarios:  I could write about student life, the interaction of various beliefs, or geographic backgrounds intersecting together etc.  But what about when the students leave and there is just a minimal amount of people?  I find myself noticing different things, doing different things, and in the quiet snail pace noticing and asking different questions of myself.
I am currently graduated from the college, but still living in this town with little connect to the people living here, no longer connected to the school, and living mostly alone as my wife is studying in the U.S.  This may be completely boring to you and may merely be an exercise in writing my thoughts aloud, or it may expose some of your own feelings and thoughts.  I make no promises and offer no results.  I just write.