Posted in news by fyrephreak on 2010-07-15. Viewed 175 time(s).

Nearly two years ago at Sean's funeral, a few people made some speeches that I will never forget. Most vivid in my memory are Ty's (both of them), and Ashley's. I remember laughing. I remember crying. I remember laughing AND crying at the same time. I remember sobbing uncontrollably. I also remember that I really felt the urge to get up to that podium and pour my soul out.  But I didn't. I couldn't, I didn't have the strentgh to even stand at that point. It's been almost two years now, and it's been eating at me to finally get it out, so here goes.

I can't pinpoint the exact day I met Sean, but I know for certain that I first encountered him online, be it Subtutious or Electrocalgary. I remember his uncanny ability to use his wit and intelligence and creativity to easily counter my then clumsy attempts at what we  now call internet trolling. I remember getting to know him much more closely at Society Thursdays at Manhattans. Cheap booze, free pizza, and good friends. Every week I was there, and I can recall the night when Cait and Sean sat me down and asked me to move in with them. I was a baby apprentice, still living at home. That house was my first family away from my family. Cait still laughingly remembers how she had to teach me how to use the laundry machines,

Sean was the big brother I never knew I wanted. His ability to mediate, educate, humor, and entertain really had an impact in how I viewed (and still view) the world. It still amazes me to this day at how four guys, complete individuals in their own right, managed to coexist in that house with next to no friction whatsoever. I moved in with my then girlfriend and out of 1519 in 2006 after spending two years there. My first home away from parents. My sink or swim in the real life. Sean definitely made the first steps to individual freedom and responsibility a lot more manageable and less traumatic. Sometime about a year later I had a bad night, and was driving aimlessly. I stopped by the house and Sean's light was still on. At one in the morning on a Tuesday, I knocked on the door. and Sean took me in, where we had the most in-depth conversation on every topic we could think of. I hugged Sean, I went home, and I slept easy. He just did that to you.



That was the last time I would see Sean in real life, my last interaction with him was an MSN conversation where we discussed our favorite new found beer, Wild rose Velvet fog. Sean was always incredibly supportive of my photography, and definitely pushed me to continue my pursuit of the hobby. And for that i am thankful. He encouraged me t follow my dreams, live life with a smile.
 
The only physical thing I took of his from the house after his passing, was one of his pairs of sunglasses. I keep them in their case, and whenever I go somewhere interesting, I bring them with me, so that he can (metaphorically) see what I'm doing. I have felt his presence on more than a few occasions, and I think of him almost daily still.  I have a big road trip planned in the near future, and those sunglasses will be making the trip with me.  Sean once told me; "Everyone is so busy trying to get from A to Z, that they forget there is 24 letters in between". I will be calling the journey;
"The B to Y adventure", with no set goal other than to stop at every letter in between.

Happy birthday Sean
I miss you

Posted in news by fyrephreak on 2010-07-05. Viewed 182 time(s).

 - June 25th.

The doctors suggested I write a journal as a way to keep myself occupied, and to have something to look back on after I get better and go home.  It all started in December, I remember coughing a lot and getting tired easily. My fever would keep me up at night and I would frequently wake up drenched with sweat. Mother summoned the Doctor after I started coughing up blood. The muted conversation he had with mother in the dining room puzzled me, and I will never forget the look of apprehension on his face as he departed. Mother told me she was going to be sending me to a special sanatorium that would take care of me and see to it I'd be back on my feet. In the couple days before I left, I would catch her wringing her hands, only to be covered up with a quick smile when she noticed my presence.

I've been here two months now, and spring is giving way to summer. It really is very beautiful here. The grounds are neatly tucked into a ravine not far from the shores of Echo lake. Large trees dominate the manicured lawns and the enveloping hills lend a feeling of peaceful isolation. The air is warm, clean, and invigorating, and I spend most of the sunny days walking the grounds. The actual sanatorium is deceptively unassuming, you would never guess there to be room for over 300 patients here. rising up four stories, the main building is one long narrow construction, that has been expanded progressively as the need arose.
The vast majority of the patient rooms either face south, or are connected to a south-facing communal solarium. My room is in the original wing, which has nicer (in my opinion) solariums than the newer wings. the ceilings are unpainted cedar and it reminds me of being in a remote cabin.



-July 3rd.
I feel better than when i arrived here, but the doctors say it's still too early to let me leave. I'm disappointed because I know father could use my help back on the farm, but mother told me to be patient and listen to what the doctors tell me. I've been getting bored, so the nurses convinced the groundskeeper to let me help with some light work. Nothing too strenuous, as I still tire easily, but it's something to set my mind to, and as Jason the groundskeeper puts it; "a few less chores off my back." After dinner, before it gets dark and cold, I like to go and sit by the lake and watch the sun set. It's almost like living at a resort here.

Most of the other patients here are either younger than me, or a lot older. It's hard making friends, but as long as you're willing to listen through a coughing fit riddled story about grandchildren or the war, you can always find some company.


-July 10th.
I was allowed on a tour of the boiler house today. It was incredible, the two boilers were hand built onsite and are the size of a house. It was really loud, and even though almost all the pipes were sheathed in thick white insulation, they still radiated heat. It was really hot and stuffy in there, and eventually I had to leave because a coughing fit overtook me. After that the doctors confined me to my room indefinitely, and that's why I pulled this journal out and started writing.


-July 14th.
Still Stuck in my room, coughing up a lot, sometimes blood, the doctors have been running tests almost daily, but haven't really told me anything. Getting bored.

-July 15th.
The old man in the room next to me passed away today. His name was Gerald.

-August 9th.
Was finally let outside today, with a nurse accompanying me. I feel like a toddler, but at least I'm outside. I am constantly short of breath now, after almost a month of being bedridden. the doctors, when they come and visit my room, no longer smile, they just look at my chart and leave, whispering quietly to the nurses in the hall. No one will tell me anything.

-August 20th.
Collapsed outside today, back to being confined in my room, at least they wheel my entire bed into the solarium.

-August 27th.
I just want to go home.

Posted in news by fyrephreak on 2010-02-21. Viewed 661 time(s).

I had journeyed via motorcoach to Medicine Hat once this year, and the experience left a slightly infanticidal taste in my mouth. Three  plus hours of being assaulted. by a pair of howling toddlers and the lackluster parenting thereby accompanied. Fuck that, I came correct this time. Sexy Brain candy noise-cancelling earbuds blocked out any aural defecation and the indie sounds of Silversun Pickups lulled me into a comfy  coma as I chugged towards what was to be my first destination and second departure location.

Stepping off the bus and immediately into the Captains vehicle, We sped with all haste towards the provincial border in the hopes of beating the twilight. Flat prairie became a blur, and the distinct lack of landmarks hindered our ability to accurately judge distances, or even the velocity that we hurtled across the plains. The captains insistence that we have sunlight at our first goal was an exceedingly excellent call. Six stories up stairwells and cold war goo encrusted ladders into the massive dome. The slowly setting sun filters through the unevenly coated fibreglass skin, casting a warm, peaceful glow throughout the sphere. Pauly Shore eat your heart out. The history permeates the structure. A war of monitoring and posturing was fought,in part, here. Massive vents, with Fan mounts that would make any Silent Hill fan a little happy in the nether regions, adorn two walls. Homage to the massive computers that once were installed.  The door leadng leading to a caged ladder  bears some sage Newtonian advice, and the exterior perimeter catwalk affords a vast view of... pretty much nothing. It's pretty, and vacant.  The outbuildings are gone. All  that is left is a windswept field, ringed by a razor wire nested fence, still sharp and inviting lockjaw to any  stupid enough to attempt the climb.



The highway patrol in Saskatchewan are far more laid back than anywhere I've traveled. Maybe they've succumbed to the realization that most people would simply like to get across the vast expanse of their rectangular province as quickly as possible. Barreling headlong into Saskatoon at well over the speed limit, an oncoming cruiser merely chirped a visual warning and continued on its way.

Our second destination was not as straight-forward, requiring a trek through a soggy fallow field and a densely forested hill.  This base is far more extensive, yet our round-about route was mandated by the presence of a homestead located on the base proper.  Our exploration was limited to the radome and directly connected outbuildings occupying the overlooking hillock.  The oppressively low-hanging clouds seemed to be mere feet above out heads as we stood upon what was easily the highest altitude in a 25 kilometer radius.  The history enveloping this structure is no less permeating. Here the threat of communism was monitored with bated breath.  thoroughly saturated after our adventure, we picked our way back through the foliage to the car and began putting several hundred more kilometers under our wheels.