brandon shoots the president?

cliquez ici for the official story; photographs are mine.

burundi slideshow

click the title to link to a wonderful slideshow i discovered about burundi, "bridging the hutu-tutsi divide."

hungry hungry

hippos!

is everyone aware that hippos kill the greatest number of people out of any animal in the world?! we've got lots of them here in burundi. (photo for aunt bev)

reflections

One. A woman removes the brush tangled around the limbs of her cow. A old man rushes along the road to assess the situation, but after having watched the cow stumble down the small drop between the pasture and the road, he will only discover what he fears most: the cow’s neck, bent awkwardly beneath the weight of its body, is obviously broken. It is quite possibly, though I pray not, their only cow.

Two. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and I have not eaten since breakfast. An acute awareness of the void in my stomach reminds me that I’m rich. But the children yesterday, with distended bellies, do they feel the same? Is it less severe because they have grown accustomed to it? Or is it worse? Yet they are happy because they know no other life. Like normal children they sing and play and laugh, as their stomachs continue to swell. And so do our stomachs swell, due to very opposite, though connected, reasons. The injustice in the fact that we kill ourselves by over-nourishment is perhaps also a form of justice; but it’s still not fair.

On a lighter note:

Three. I have recently discovered my least favourite kind of music, which I term ‘missionary old-country.’ And let me tell you, they love it here. ‘Old-country’ by itself is quite bad; but at least the old music that has endured to be heard today is arguably that which has been done ‘well’. Not so the missionary sort. And incorporating indigenous choirs or instruments only adds to the disarray.

Four. In part, I was thrilled to see that the governor’s office had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle curtains; until, that is, I realized that Donatello was the wrong colour

Hope

The tiny girl stops and turns her body to face us; a small sack of cassava flour rests upon her head. Silently she leads us onward over the crest of the mountain to the trail that will return us to our truck. There is more we must see before the rains come—from our mountaintop vantage we observe black storm clouds now not far off—but the grace of this child has captured me and I am content to delay our progress.

Two hours earlier, Zachée, my Burundian MCC colleague, and I had visited an MCC sponsored tree nursery in the valley far below. The seedlings will soon populate these barren hills, bringing Hope in the form of clean water to the valley’s springs and the peasant farmers dependent upon them. Setting our sights to the top of the mountain to gain an overview of the entire valley basin, we started up against the heat of equatorial noonday sun and my lungs gasped for the oxygen of lower elevations. I observed my surroundings: nothing. There wasn’t anything on this hill. Which is why we were surprised when suddenly, from a ways off, we heard excited shouts. A man was running down the path to welcome us, we could then see, to a gathering of small grass huts near the top. The small man was soon upon us, offering ecstatic welcomes, his hands held in prayer and in greeting. After embracing us, he ushered us towards the rest, who, aroused by his calls, awaited their visitors in a gathering beside the nearest dwelling. They were Batwa, we learned, the much-discriminated pygmy minority. They were eleven isolated families, relocated to the mountain by the government. They were obviously impoverished—one child had infected eyes, many had swollen bellies beneath their tattered clothes—they had not been able to save seeds from the last harvest. The ground was dry, but yet it was the rainy season.

Zachée took down a list of seeds and farming implements that they needed. Apparently a white person had been among them before and had helped them with their growing practices, but they were again in need of help. We would be back soon. Perhaps too, they could join the other workers, planting trees in MCC’s Food-For-Work project. In this way they would benefit not only from the turkey, canned and donated by MCC constituents in North America, but also from direct participation in the restoration of their environment and in the renewed sustainability of their harvests.

The tiny girl’s smile beckons us on. The glimmer in her eyes speaks of hope, but her clothes betray the daily struggle in which she and the others live. I am inspired as I look into the valley below and see the nursery that will provide some of the hope that this girl longs for. In two weeks the planting will begin on the mountain, and we will be back with seeds, hoes, and plans we hope will help these villagers. What an incredible opportunity to be able to be at the end of the long channel of blessings that so many have participated in, and to see the results of so many hearts and hands joined together in service to the poor!

so simple

says the girl's sweater. in kirundo province, northern burundi, where we, help channel burundi, are starting a clean water project.

see other photographs here.

amahoro!

in kirundi, that means "peace," and it's the common gretting here in bujumbura, from where i greet you now. i haven't prepared anything to write, as i am very surprised this morning to catch a strong wireless internet signal from somewhere nearby where we, help channel burundi, are setting up our new office after moving from the outskirts of the city.

burundi is incredible! after being in transit for two full days, i found myself sitting under a thatched roof drinking iced tea while looking across vast lake tanganyika to the high mountain ranges of the congo. behind me is bujumbura, the capital city, and behind it are the heavily populated hills of the countryside. there is barely a square metre in the entire country that isn't inhabited. burundi is africa's second most densely populated country (behind rwanda), and is bustling to say the least. today i have not yet seen another muzungu, which is what people yell out with a smile and a thumbs-up when they see me. but i will; at the least, i'll see one whizzing by in one of the ubiquitous white UN landcruisers.

next week i look forward to touring the various help channel operations in the countryside, and getting a better grasp of what i will be doing. for now, my orientation continues, and my french classes will soon begin. i should conclude before my connection disappears, but i promise more soon, including photographs!

for now, peace.

the new is coming

one more week remains until i say goodbye to everything that i know, to everything that i've ever known. next saturday evening i'll board a plane whose destination is the far end of far away, and my ticket is not for a return flight.

this, of course, hasn't really sunk in yet. currently, i find myself in amish country, pennsylvania, for orientation at mcc headquarters. as i jog along the rural roads, i observe those beautiful people bringing in their harvest by horse and by hand. having eaten at one of their tables and been gifted with a glimpse into their world, my heart aches for their them as they grieve from their recent tragedy. then my heart recalls the lingering pain of our family's own tragedy. there has been loss. but there is Peace. and there is Beauty. and there is Hope.

a horse's large head suddenly arches into my path, its neck stretching far over the split-rail fence. i am surprised out of my introspection and onto the task at hand: i am running, on a paved road, in heartland america, dodging a horse. my breathing is deep but controlled; my legs feel good; the late october breeze chills my perspiring skin. the immediacy of it all is nearly overwhelming. but this, too, shall soon be memory. the new is coming.

i am excited.

and the sun went down

and the sun came out

in memoriam

steven peter dirksen
november 24, 1981 - september 14th, 2006

vancity

more images of vancity's finest citizens. interestingly, all right-of-centre. but thankfully not politically-speaking. i miss them already.

vancity

The Divine Image

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God, our father dear:
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.

-William Blake, 1789

marathon

this past weekend i completed a marathon of sorts. mark, antri and i set out on a decidedly ambitious (decidedly agonizing?) adventure whereby we were going to hike into the deep heart of the rockies, climb the sixth-highest peak in the canadian section of that great chain, and then retrace our steps back to civilization, all in two days. and, well, we did just that, with the addition of a second summit just for fun. just for photographs, actually, like the one above.

from kananaskis provincial park, we passed through banff national park into british columbia's assiniboine provincial park, some twenty-six kilometres from the trailhead to assiniboine lodge where we rested for an hour with our feet in lake magog. from there, it was another seven kilometres or so to get above the headwall and drop our packs at the climbers' hut at the base of mount assiniboine. the summit of nearby mt strom provided a perfect vantage from which to photograph its more majestic neighbour basking in alpenglow, before the evening cold forced our hasty retreat into the cramped hut. at least three of the thirteen guests were violent snorers, precluding any real sleep, but at least we were safe from the impressive cold outside (and not hiking.) that same cold welcomed our summit bid early the next morning, and travelled with us until eight o'clock, when on the summit ridge we were able to slow down and warm ourselves in the rising sun. a careful descent with four rappels brought us back to the hut to pack and coffee-up before the long thirty-three kilometres out. the long thirty-three kilometres out.

did every inch of my body hate the obstinacy of our resolution? yes; in fact, i'm quite certain that by the end, every muscle fibre wanted nothing more than to sever their neurological servitude to the draconian will that pushed them onward. regardless, we were back at the car before dark and eating manly amounts of real food in calgary before we could finally let the ecstasy of sleep overtake us. would i do such a thing again? of course. actually, how's about next weekend?

gap

gap mountain with rob and monica, july 29th.

sir?

mt sir douglas, as seen from the summit of mt burstall. the east ridge is on the left side.


mt sir douglas, east ridge


climbing mt sir douglas' east ridge

mt sir douglas in kananaskis was the most enjoyable adventure yet, even though the rock was horribly rotten and unprotectable for the entire lower part of the route. in that case, the solidity and elegance of mt edith cavell probably sets her above general douglas' peak; for a knighted fellow you'd think he'd be more congenial. i was very thankful for all but the sketchiest of twenty or so rappels to return us onto the glacier, followed by a nine kilometre run back to the car after sixteen and one half hours of climbing.

masochistic?

in this post, two adventures.
adventure number one. at three in the morning, mark and i discerned that the weather had still not decided its plans for the day, so we closed the doors of the car and pretended to sleep for another hour. at four, some stars could be seen through scant partings in the cloudcover, so we opted to take our chances and make a break for it. for mt edith cavell, that is; she's the highest peak in the immediate vicinity of jasper, at 3363 metres (11 033 feet). climbing on the east ridge was solid and everything was fantastic until we reached the ice cloud that remained to guard the last two hundred vertical metres to the summit. then it became especially excellent, with a thin veneer of ice and spindrift encrusting the rock. white- out blizzard conditions, high winds and temperatures below minus ten degrees celcius dictated brevity in our summit celebrations, followed by a heinous descent of the easier west ridge, which, though less vertical, presented thin scree atop downhill-slanted rock ledges. for those unaware, scree is like gravel, and in stiff-soled boots, a thin layer of scree on sloped rock above cliff bands several hundred metres high, you've got a precarious situation. at four in the afternoon we made it back to the car, and after a quick dip in frigid cavell lake, we were off for a brew in jasper townsite.

adventure number two. a bit of a weekend off led me on a hike in banff with some new friends. across the highway from banff townsite you've got mt norquay (with the ski hill), mt edith and mt cory; our group had plans to hike the cory pass trail to the edith-cory col, where some of us would continue on up to one or more of the three summits of mt edith, rejoin the others, and continue down the seven kilometres of edith pass trail back to the vehicle. and this was more or less what transpired, though with a slight twist. the cory pass trail is evidently one of the steepest maintained trails in the rocky mountains. i guess they were going for economy, of sorts; though not of our efforts, that's for sure. two waited at the saddle between the two peaks (col) while four of us scrambled up the south summit (2554 metres), but didn't quite wait until we returned from our fun. not a problem, and all in the plans, but we underestimated their speediness on the downhill and were unable to see them in the distance. this, of course, led to second-guessing our instructions, and their whereabouts, and so we hurried down the trail in hopeful hot pursuit. after the goats got out of my way. and then after almost an hour without overtaking the renegades, i elected to run, and, if i hadn't encountered them before the seven kilometres was up and i was back at the vehicle, it would mean that they were either still waiting for us at the col or had returned the way we came. that would mean that i'd then turn around and run back up the pass and down the other side. i was entirely resigned to the upcoming off-road marathon when, lo and behold, there they were! yay! safe and sound and speedy. but interestingly, i was quite disappointed to abandon my upcoming test of endurance, since i had already planned it out from beginning to end in my mind and was already feeling a second wind coming on to fuel the exercise. oh well; i'll bank that energy for next weekend. the day was nicely capped by a dip in canmore's quarry lake, followed by food and drink at julio's barrio in cowtown.

photographs on my flickr and pdf slideshows downloadable here.

insomnolence

sleepless. but now that the tree plant is over and done, i'm only without sleep by choice. in the first case, so as to not simmer myself within my fine, metallic skillet and companion clifford, i elected to heed the meteorologist's warnings of the upcoming heatwave in southern saskatchewan and alberta by continuing on driving through the night to my destination. and, with the aid of chocolate-covered espresso beans and sunflower seeds (not chocolate-covered), twenty-three and a half hours after departure, i arrived here in cowtown. in the second case, mark and i had ventured to the foot of our weekend pursuit, mt. joffre. joffre is a pleasant monster of ice and snow rising to 3450 m (11 316 ft) in kananaskis provincial park, just east of banff. to get an early start, we woke at 0250 h and were on our way before 0330 h. for whatever reason, perhaps because of the diminutive half-section of half-centimetre yellow foam padding i was sleeping on, or the roaring glacial waterfall thirty feet from our tent, or the anticipation of the morning adventure; regardless of the reason, i didn't sleep a wink. but i laid there anyways, willing recovery and new energy into my barely initiated leg muscles, already nearly expended from the day's intense approach. sure, intense because we made it that way, but really, is there any other way? the climb itself was also made to be exhausting, but it was very necessary that we maintain our position far in advance of the eleven member alpine club group following in our hard-won kick-steps up joffre's snow-encrusted face. so, depending on how you look at it, not only was it our first mountain of the season, it was also our first time leading an alpine club of canada trip. but i don't know if they'll see it that way.

so, two sleepless nights in one week; one by choice, the other from insomnia (though it wouldn't have been much of a sleep anyways). the first was immediately followed by a respectable five hour nap; the second, by an intense thirteen-hour climb and return hike to the parking lot. before the painkillers and alcohol, i wished all mountains would crumble into the heart of the sea. but, we're already now working on plans for tomorrow and for next weekend. this is going to be a good summer.

done

holy schmoly, has it really been a full month since the last time i've updated? wow. well, here's an update: the plant is over. i'm done. and as coops says: it's a dem fine day. a dem fine day indeed. me tired; more later.

settled

after a difficult first couple weeks, i feel that i have now settled into my responsibilities as a supervisor of a tree plant in the wilds of northern ontario. after the stressfull first round of planning has passed, during which a few below-the-belt blows were fielded, the plans have worked out quite well, and all the planters remain entirely oblivious to the seemingly intractable hardship that was just barely deflected. but now we're in the clear; the plans for the remainder of the contract are more or less easy, the planters are happy to be making a tonne of cash, and we're quite significantly ahead of schedule already.

i'd also like to let you know that i'm a bus driver. my sweet ride is known by the affectionate knickname, "ducky", after the humourous waddling of a chafed, though well-loved, supervisor from several years ago. she's a full-sized, white schoolbus, outfitted with a trucker radio for the requisite mileage call-ins while driving my planters in to the block on the haul roads. the truckers, of course, don't really understand you unless you speak in their colloquial northern tongue. and so, out of consideration for the safety of all those under my care, i make myself into a fellow resident of atikokan, replete with the slow, laconic drawl of the north and a hopefull, though gawdy enthusiasm, that my town, atikokan, will soon be the proud bearers of the title, hockeyville.

thanks again to brier and shawn for the barbequed moose steaks, wine, and all-day, all-night sauna sessions that have restored my body and mind for another week.

ugh.

things are going well up here in the north, but not without a large portion of stress. it doesn't really feel as though i've been able to settle into my role as supervisor yet, in terms of the expected bookwork and socializing and relatively relaxed mornings. nope. of course, out of the entire contract, it just so happens that the three most difficult blocks of land to be managed and planted need to be done so in the first two weeks. not ideal for anyone, really. anyways, with some serious negotiations (undoubtedly aided by my perpetually persuasive and intimidating demeanor) there have been some favourable arrangements made with the client. and so, after the first really nice day of planting, unmarred by stressfully looming plans, i returned to camp in the evening to discover that the generator, water pump at the lake, and water pump in the kitchen were all malfuntioning. perfect. love it. well, the water pump at the lake just needed a master's pull of the cord, and the generator required some tlc to clean the exhaust filter, but the kitchen water pump seems to have burned out. what you have to realize is that this is all very expected. dreaded, yes; but certainly not surprising. we've had problems with the generator each year, and each year it seems not to have been serviced completely. the kitchen water pump has blown before. the water pump at the lake cracked last year. and especially when you are the one in charge, especially of a tree plant, murphy's law will invariably stand true. and i hesitate to even tempt the ill spirits of the north by mentioning that things could be worse. yes, indeed they can.

but really, i only mean to describe some of the daily difficulties that i am faced with. there's much satisfaction when i can bring about acceptable outcomes, whether by plan or serendipity, luck or providence, and somehow everything works out. right now the generator is humming softly, the water tank is full, and a loaner pump will be on its way tomorrow to get us through to the weekend, during which i can retrieve a spare from the company shop.

of course, tomorrow will bring new difficulties of its own. for example, awaking at five to deliver treeslike mad all day into an extremely difficult access block. and of course, we're expecting rain and snow. but it will all work out, and, after another similar day on saturday, i get to spend the evening in the sauna at shawn and brier's in atikokan. did i mention that apparently atikokan is in the runnings to become hockeyville?

'nuff for now. have a good weekend.

because

hello again. brandon here. time for an update, methinks.

i had a wonderful time in southern ontario with family and friends, but an odd highlight was in solitude. this past wednesday i grabbed a minimal amount of lightweight overnight hiking paraphernalia and set out to rove as far as my legs would take me in one day. why? i wouldn't consider myself a masochist, although doing things the easy way has never appealed to me either. no, it was merely because i hadn't before. the bruce trail winds through the woods at the back of our farm, and i've lived there since i was five without ever having done an overnight hike. mind you, i've spend unnmerable days mountain biking, hiking, and exploring caves and cliffs and streams; it was always my door to the beyond. to really get beyond, the margin beyond which i hadn't yet travelled, i had to traipse about two hours. shortly past the boundary i was interruped by a strange man, who, while sitting and chomping on a large english cucumber, and with the help of perplexing topographical notes, explained to me the unique geological formations discernable in the surrounding area. he stowed the cucs' wrapper in his fluorescent bicycle helmet and let me on my way. i had no other company until the sun was waning low on the horizon, when a corpulent arm belonging to a kind, though dishevelled, elderly man held out a lone sprig of pepper root for me to assay. "it's not like it used to be," he asserted, and i noted that neither was my cardiovascular fitness level. in years past he had been able to gather bags of the edible root; much hotter than horseradish, he said of the stuff. shortly after continuing on, it was my feet that limited my progress at around six 'o-clock in the evening, leaving me about an hour or so of daylight to read my borrowed copy of lewis thomas' late night thoughts on mahler's ninth symphony. delightful. not so delightful was the next day. i knew i was in for a test of endurance when lacing up my boots in the morning was an agonizingly painful ordeal. but, step after step, i finally made it back, and mom was waiting for me on the porch with a cold beverage.

now, after an extremely long drive, i'm in thunder bay. the preparations for the tree plant that i'm supervising are well on their way, and i'm thoroughly convinced that i'm in over my head. for now, anyways. in a few days, twenty-nine people are all going to be expecting me to facilitate their daily wage-earning of two to five hundred dollars. when dealing with cash like that, there isn't really room for mistakes.

camera plans have been put off until july, so in the future, i'll include any photographs i can get my hands on from other sources.

ontario

hello from ontario! unfortunately returning to ontario from vancouver means regressing the seasonal equivalent of about a month. but hey, out this way they have sunshine, and lots of it. i will refrain from beginning a point-by-point comparison of the merrits and shortcomings of both places that i, to some degree, consider home, although i've never felt so transient as i do now. "you moved away from vancouver?!" is a tough question to provide a satisfactory answer to, and i've tried to varying degrees of success over the past couple days. and in saving uninterested folks from a ten-minute dissection of all the details swaying my decisions, i usually end up sounding like a purposeless nomad. well, maybe i am a bit nomadic; and actually, peering into the looking-glass, i don't think that will soon change. but like good jazz, there is always underlying structure to the chaos.

i appologize for the length of time since my last entry; those curling pics must be annoying by now (especially amy and haylee's offensive costumes). and i appologize for the lack of visual stimulation in this installment; in explanation, i am awaiting the purchase of a new camera once all the facts have been compiled and compared and the criteria weighed. for now, i'm going to get out in the sunshine.

hard!

kenton directing the shotdelon sending one offamy and haylee in traditional curling attire
apparently this is becoming more of a photo blog as opposed to the confabulation of wit and adventure that i had originally endeavored. writing is proving too bromidic, and when the trouble is suffered, the results are less than inspiring. however, photography is rousing my enthusiasm and demanding more of my time and money than i have to offer, at least without consequence, at this stage. perhaps i'm just one of those folks who thinks in images, and as a result finds more creative fulfilment through visual expression.

so i figured that i would just post some photographs of our recent westside outdoors excursion to the not-so-outdoors marpole curling club, foregoing words with the intention that the story would tell itself. according to my sister, this is not the case; and so, to relieve any anxieties or misunderstandings, these words have been offered. thanks for hanging in there.

posts

posts at lighthouse park beach, point roberts, washington.

obstinate

this is my sister, in the red. i like her.

after turning the house inside out in search of some matches to light the barbeque, i finally got it started. it took several minutes to burn off the leftovers of my last charbroiling session, and then the coals had warmed sufficiently enough for the chicken to go on. no sooner had i returned to the kitchen to fetch the basting sauce, did a storm the likes of which vanhattan hasn't seen in years begin to pelt our poor weather-sensitized citizens with hail and sleet and snow and wind and other such things that i'm no longer used to. because of my espousal of mother's obstinate all-season barbequeing, i too braved the meteorological adversity with an equanimity anchored solely by my hunger. and let me tell you, it was almost worth it. it certainly would have been; that is, if the chicken hadn't been stored in the fridge for several days too many.

ps

as a post-script to my previous entry, i don't intend to sound glum. rather, i wish to express my pining for change and for adventure, and at the same time, my sadness at the prospect of leaving my home of the past four years.

of the gladdest moments in human life, methinks, is the departure on a distant journey into unknown lands. shaking off, with one mighty effort, the fetters of Habbit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares, the slavery of Home, one feels once more happy. the blood flows with the fast circulation of childhood....a journey, in fact, appeals to Imagination, to Memory, to Hope - the three sister Graces of our moral being. (sir richard francis burton, in his novel zanzibar)

mixed

photograph taken from my sister and adjusted.

a busy week has kept my mind occupied. helping me to mature were my westside church friends at homegroup on monday night, and bringing me back to my mid-to-late teenage years were mxpx on tuesday night. that's right- mxpx. but even that was an instance of maturation; if they had truly brought me back to the middle of my adolescence, i still would have been the oldest person at the punk rock show. the twelve-year-old girls beside me laughed condescendingly when mike herrera and i were the only ones shouting out the lyrics to my life story. they snickered again when i asked who hedley is. and they scoffed when bryan and i left before finding out.

i took wednesday and thursday off and was absolutely contented to do nothing as long as it wasn't work. and that's just about exactly what i did. or didn't do. what i mean is that i didn't really do anything. although i think that i spent more money on food and drink this week than i actually earned. i don't know if i feel guilty about that or not. but what i don't feel guilty about whatsoever, in fact what i feel unequivocally mirthful about, is that my last day at my job is march 31st. following closely on the heels of my upcoming emancipation will be many contrasting emotions. all of them are strong although they are mixing together into various shades of uncertainty: happiness is the same as sadness, excitement intermingles with anxiety, welcome is infused with regret. i'm leaving vancouver.

winter

happy birthday robyn! don't suppose the beaches you frequent look quite like this, but ha!- you're not the only one soaking it up by the water.

quarter

so, a quarter century, hey?

expectations

"his wildness was in his refusal- or his inability- to live within other people's expectations" -wendell berry

snowshoeing

bri, i'm making an attempt to keep up with the coolness of my siblings. i can't at this moment match the other one, but this photo might just prove that i'm catching up to you. taken near the summit of cypress, i made my way, solo, to the top. the other group members figured i'd realize that they weren't going to complete our little adventure, and after twenty minutes of pondering their slowness while i was soaking up the sunshine and the summit vista, i understood that they had left me to my own devices. i removed my snowshoes and ran down, anxious to relieve their worries for my whereabouts and wellbeing. overtaking them halfway back to the parking lot, i discovered they had no such concerns.

engagement

Congrats Colin and Nicki!

click on the title for a neat link.

vanhattan

today was paradise in vanhattan. i know that i'm not surfing in hawaii like my sister, but after a january where it rained for 29 of the 31 days, a full weekend day of sunshine is as good as it gets. today it almost seemed as though nothing could be wrong; the entire province was outside soaking up the sun. but unfortunately, one of my errands today was to drop off a card for jana. jana is the girlfriend of my friend brent, who committed suicide earlier this week. my attempts at escapism were successful for only brief moments. man, it makes you think...so full of life and potential.... but the sun shone down, and i solemnly praised God that i'm aware of his grace.

the weekend has been good, and i should mention that batman and batgirl still roam the streets, and if you are going to be in a horror-movie type scenario, your first move should not be to split up from your friends.