Beautiful BC: Great to visit, impossible to live in

I am one of the lucky people who can count themselves a resident of British Columbia. Arguably the most naturally spectacular province in Canada, BC is known as the stereotypical home of mountains, hippies, outdoor-minded, left-leaning and laid back individuals. Hmm, what does that say about me?

Natural resources and tourism drive our economy. Like many others, I travelled here and fell in love with the idea of a mountain lifestyle. If you’ve never seen the rugged Rockies, the soaring Selkirks, the intimidating Coast Range, then you won’t understand. The mountains, like the prairies and the North, haunt your very being.

Recent reports name BC as the most expensive province in which to live. Well, obviously. I purchased a house over three years ago for less than $100,000 that is now worth more than triple its value in the current market. Even so, the original mortgage payments, taxes, and maintenance eat up over 65% of my monthly income.

Why? Because, in a small mountain town, a highly educated person is very unlikely to find a career that will meet their financial requirements.

Revelstoke wasn’t listed on the “hot” cities list that made headlines this week. It probably isn’t even on the radar. However, this town has very rapidly become unaffordable through the development of our local ski hill.

While tourism is a boon to BC, it doesn’t pay well. I’ve worked in tourism related business for the last six years; I can attest to it. Minimum wage is low, cost of living is high.

But we live here for the lifestyle, right? Okay, we don’t make a lot, but we have a roof over our heads and food on the table. We have time to mountain bike, swim, canoe, and ski. That’s why we sacrificed the high salary jobs in other places.

Not for me; at least, not any more. In order to make ends meet, I need to work 50 hours or more a week at my current job, and I am considering a second one to keep afloat. The last time I hit the slopes was before Christmas. This, for a person with a staff pass to the resort and free heli-skiing on her days off, is utterly ridiculous.

The façade has faded, peeled, and fallen off this life. To the average tourist, BC may seem like heaven; in reality, though, it’s just as much a hell as anywhere else. A two week vacation is much cheaper than trying to live the dream.

Knowing when to quit

The past ten years have seen a rash of free agent short-term NHL contract deals as talent-strapped teams desperately grasp for the Cup. What's more, it's not high demand players at the top of their game; it's men who had already decided to hang up their skates.

The short list includes Ray Bourque, Dave Andreychuk, Dominik Hasek, Scott Niedermayer, and most recently Teemu Selanne.

Some of these guys, like Bourque, came back for that one final chance at the elusive Stanley Cup. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. However, it's hard to leave the game that had been your entire life behind.

Imagine achieving your every childhood dream, your teenage hopes, your adult ambitions. Now what? The rest of your life is a big, gaping void in front of you. What do you do with it?

It's no wonder many turn back to the familiar world they love for one last shot at glory. Let them do their victory lap, and get their legs under them for the new challenges ahead.

Maybe all it takes is a little respite to rekindle that youthful passion and drive. Let's see what Selanne can bring the Ducks in the way of grit, determination, and experience. At the very least, the Pacific division will get a little more interesting.

Buckler Unbuckled

Sandra Buckler misspoke. Does anyone else find this amusing?

Buckler is the gatekeeper of the Conservative party. As an MP, you daren't utter a word to the media unless Sandra shoves it in your mouth and watches you spit it out.

Well, well. The government didn't know what the military was doing with its Afghan prisoner transfer? Oops. What I meant to say is, we knew, we just didn't tell you. No, that's not it. What I REALLY meant to say is that we knew, and we told you, you just weren't paying attention because you were too busy playing Guitar Hero. So it's really your fault.

A Critical Opposition? Imagine that.

Canadian Parliament resumes today, which should provide Canadians with yet more reasons to ignore their politicians. An article on the CBC webpage caught my eye this morning, discussing issues the Prime Minister will have to deal with this week.

It was a fairly predictable news bit. Harper's going to face questions on Afghanistan prisoner transfers, Mulroney, the economy, the upcoming budget...oh, and I'm sure that whole "nuclear" thing will be brought up as well. What caught my eye was the line "The latest snafu has left Opposition MPs very critical of the government."

Well. Imagine that. An Opposition MP, actually doing his or her job, being critical of the governing Conservatives. It's about time, is all I have to say.

When the Liberals held a minority government, the Tories gleefully kept them teetering on the brink of collapse (though, to be honest, the Liberals didn't do much to help themselves) questioning every move, every motion, every proposal. That's what opposition parties are supposed to do.

Yet here we are, two years into a minority government that has, from day once, arrogantly strutted about like they held a majority. What do the opposition parties do? Whine and complain until the Tories call their bluff. Don't like what we're doing? Okay then, force an election.

But, whine the Liberals, Canadians don't want an election. That may have been true a year ago, but not now. The truth is that the opposition parties don't want an election. They are weak and they know it.

Where does that leave us? Watching the Conservatives do what they do best.

Repetitive Society

Tired. I was too tired to write anything clever, and a strange man has moved into my house for several days, making it impossible to loaf about and wail uselessly on my guitar.

What to do? Annoy my friends, sit on their couch, and watch Sunday TV.

Remember when TV was entertaining? I don't. Perhaps if I had one of my own, I'd have a better opinion. Lacking a TV leaves me with more time on my hands for quasi-productive loafing.

But back to the couch, the electric blanket, and the remote. At 3:30pm PST, I sat down. From then until now (8:30 pm PST) I have watched either the Simpsons or Family Guy continuously, not counting a brief Planet Earth interlude.

Two shows. Lather, rinse, repeat. Some things, no matter how good they may seen, just don't belong in an infinite loop.

Things I am no longer supposed to do because I’m an adult

Like Peter Pan, I decided long ago never, ever to grow up.

It’s been a rather hard struggle, and I did give in to certain adult necessities at times, such as holding down a real job or taking on a mortgage. However, I would have been smarter to just avoid all adult things and keep to my childish ways.

Here are a list of things I proudly do that are decidedly childish:

Jump in puddles. Anywhere, anytime, whatever the footwear. Unlimited fun. Don’t believe me? Just try it. It’s exhilarating.
Sing campfire/Girl Guide songs at random intervals.
Colour.
Fingerpaint.
Play with my food. This includes sculptures, animation, and sound effects.
Instigate food fights.
Read out loud.
Do random cartwheels or somersaults.
Throw the occasional temper tantrum.
Get buzzed on sugar and giggle uncontrollably.
Build forts.
Build snow forts.
Pummel those smaller than me with snowballs. Mercilessly.
Wear t-shirts with funny slogans. (Current favourite: Chocolate makes my clothes shrink)
Construct and throw paper airplanes at random.
Make disgusting noises.
Blow bubbles in my milkshakes.
Watch cartoons.
Quote cartoons.
Talk to my dog like I expect an answer.
Get dressed with no thought at all for fashion or dress code.
Take silly and/or incriminating photos with other people’s cameras.
Tickle. Mercilessly.
Hey look! Bright! Shiny!
Give raspberries at every opportunity.

Tomorrow, I will rant about something current. My Internet was down most of the day, so you are stuck with my incoherent babble instead!

Engineers jump ship

When engineers jump ship from a space contractor, you know something must be up. After all, if a naval engineer jumps ship, there is at least a small chance of survival, if the person can swim (one would hope, in the navy, every one can at least dog paddle).

Space satellite engineers, on the other hand, are pretty much screwed from liftoff. The vacuum of space isn't that friendly to we humans.

It's an ethical and moral issue, I'm told. These engineers are leaving because their company, MacDonald, Dettwiler and Associates Ltd., was sold to the American company Alliant Techsystems. The scientists that put Radarsat-2 in orbit don't want to work for a company that may use their intelligence for acts of war.

I applaud. Forgetting for a second the amazing technology these people have already created, I'd like to congratulate them for standing up and saying, "No, I will not work for a company that may take my ideas and turn them into weapons to destroy others."

I only forsee one problem. Where does an unemployed space satellite engineer look for work? Right now the race is on to privatize space. Countries are jockeying to get who knows what floating around up there. Ethics have no place in this race. Like Einstein, you'll just end up building weapons for someone else. In the end, you're going to be responsible for blowing someone or something up.

Someone hire these two. They are part of a dying breed.

Being the good guy gets you a pat on the back, fifteen seconds of fame, then anonymity. Chin up, though. This is Canada. Just tell the nice people at the Employment Office about your morals, and you'll have a cheque in six weeks.

Staggering Astronauts

According to internal NASA studies, no flight crew member has been seen drinking or intoxicated on a launch day, or on the days leading up to a launch. However, the astronaut code of conduct is being rewritten, spurred by these accusations and the diaper-wearing escapades of a certain unstable employee.

Personally, I would cut the astronauts a little slack. After all, a "shot of courage" might help them get through the whole process.

Imagine spending your entire life in school, in a lab, or in the gym. Most of the people you meet or work with are a bunch of math and science loving geeks trying their hardest to be better than you. Being a math and science loving geek myself, I'd like to say we're a very entertaining crew, but our social skills are more than a little rusty.

Now, imagine you are chosen to finally live your dream of floating about in space. All your life, you've been training for this moment. Suddenly, a couple of days before it happens, you get a little stressed. I sympathize completely. My adrenaline starts pumping before my rent is due. I shudder to think of how I would react to the knowledge I was leaving my entire world behind. There is always that pesky question once a dream is fulfilled, as well. "Okay, now what?"

NASA has been plagued with delays, accidents, snafus, and ridicule for the past ten years or so. The whole Mars exploration debacle, faulty telescopes, exploding shuttles...what was once the pride of a nation is now generally an afterthought and an embarrassment (except when it comes to putting really cool weapons in space-but that's a whole other story, maybe for later today).

"Did you know we are sitting on 2 million gallons of fuel, a nuclear weapon and a thing with 270,000 loose parts that was built by the lowest bidder. Kinda makes you feel good don't it?" Rockhound, Armageddon.

With those sort of things floating through my mind a shot of Glenfiddich or seven start looking like a good idea.

K-Dough's Canada! Current Canadian Issues

He's much funnier than I am.

K-Dough's Canada! Current Canadian Issues

Politicans I miss

"A proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It's a proof. A proof is a proof. And when you have a good proof, it's because it's proven."

Sometimes I miss Jean Chretien. How can you argue with logic like that?

Today, on CBC Radio, I heard a reporter ask Stephan Dion about the Liberal Party's position on Afganistan, given the findings of John Manley's report. His accent isn't nearly as much fun, and he always sounds scared to answer the question.

Hey, Stephan, reporters don't bite. Well, not unless provoked. If Jean didn't like what a reporter said, the reporter was in physical peril. So get your dukes up, Stephan, and make them treat you like a man instead of a parody.

More than Chretien, I miss Mulroney. Now there was a politician you could rouse some feeling about!

"You cannot name a Canadian prime minister who has done as many significant things as I did, because there are none."

Well, that's painfully true. Hate him or love him, he didn't tippy-toe around anyone or anything. Why should he, when there are big fat envelopes of cash for the taking?

"And look, I was a big, brassy guy who won and won big. I did what I wanted."

Damn skippy he did. His protege, Mr. Harper, is trying hard to make his own impressions, but it's a hard thing to do when you're stuck with a minority government and the personality of a fish. Plus, one doesn't want to stand too close to Mulroney these days.

Mr. Harper is crafty, intelligent, and he knows how to keep the opposition squirming and quiet all at the same time. However, it's time for something to give. The Liberals need to get their act together and start pulling their weight. At the very least, they could admit that Dion isn't doing a very good job and start a little internal backstabbing.

Diefenbaker once compared the Liberals to flying saucers; I'd compare them to those little styrofoam airplane kits we'd buy as children. Easy to put together, not very practical, boring after ten minutes and eventually you know they just fall apart. Yet, we kept buying them.

All that's been proven, then, is what we already knew. We've got better things to do.

"There is prejudism everywhere, except Canada. They don't make generalizations about people because they're too busy playing hockey, getting drunk or putting maple syrup on their ham."
Kelso, "That 70s Show"

Women being stupid

I don't have a link for this one, but I'm sure if I searched, I'd come up with something. Not sexist or ignorant, but other women realizing that we do damn stupid things sometimes.

I'm a woman, and I'm not trying to insult other women. I'm merely speaking truth. Women can be stupid. I know, because I am one and I do stupid things.

That doesn't mean I'm not intelligent. In fact, some of the most highly intelligent women I know are the reason I'm writing about this today.

The other day I caught myself musing about the future. It's something I do often these days. I've been pondering a move to a larger centre, to another part of the country. Thoughts of an extended overseas journey have crossed my mind as well.

After about fifteen minutes of blissful daydreaming, I abruptly stopped and slapped myself (figuratively, though I have been known to literally do so). Why? Because I was basing my musings around the whims of men, my chances of starting a new relationship. On assauging this guilt I've been handed down, telling me a woman my age should be married and starting a family.

Women have been defining themselves by their relationships to men for, well, ever. Girlfriend, wife, mother, partner...feminists tried to raise our consciousness. It's more than fine for me to be a single woman approaching thirty. We're supposed to be independent and strong enough to follow our own path. Why then do so many of us still use these labels to determine our worth?

I thought I was a strong, independent woman, until I started looking at my track record. This Christmas, my 28th, was the first in 13 years I spent single. Yep. Since I was fifteen, there has been a boyfriend upon which I have based part of my identity. That's not healthy for anyone. All it creates is a war inside me between the need to be a part of a man's world and the need to be myself. Push come to shove, fear always wins.

Now, I made choices for myself during this time frame. I made the choice to move far from my high school boyfriend in order to pursue higher education. I left bad relationships and made risky career choices in order to prove that I could do anything. In the end, though, the serial monogamist took over.

Even while in healthy relationships, I would adjust my behaviour and dreams to meet or compliment my partner. I would occasionally seem helpless in order to make a man feel needed when I was perfectly capable of performing the task at hand (and better then he ever could). For the most part, I have no problems telling men they are wrong, and proving I am right, unless that man is my significant other.

I shake my head now, but I thought at the time that compromise was how relationships worked. My problem was that I was the only one compromising, and all I was compromising was myself. I'm not the only one, either.

I know incredibly intelligent and capable women that are stuck in relationships with absolute assholes. Yet, they stay because they "love" them. They are comfortable, there are kids to consider, they are afraid to leave, afraid to be alone...they are stupid. They define themselves by this relationship, letting it determine their self-worth. It's enough to drive me crazy!

At the same time, fear holds me back too, affecting my choices in other ways. If I chose to do this, to live here, to chase this dream, would he still love me? If I reach my full potential, will men be intimidated by me? Would I end up alone, eating ice cream and pickles, watching romantic comedies and singing Pat Benatar songs? Actually, it doesn't sound that bad.

It's not the man's fault. He has no idea what all this is about, because he has no problems (usually) defining himself outside of his relationship to you. Talk to him about all this, and he'll just look baffled. He doesn't spend his days in a fantasy land where princess charming swoops in and looks after his every need. He's probably dreaming about the girl in accounting giving him a blowjob in the mail room.

I resolved, at the end of my last relationship, to chase my own dreams, not attaching them to someone else, to someone else's expectations of me. Until yesterday, when I caught myself doing that very thing. Stupid me.

Why do I do this? As far as I can figure out, it's a cop out. By not trying to recognize and achieve my own dreams, I can't fail. If someone asks me, years from now, why I never tried, I can point proudly to the self-sacrifice I made in order to be a good girlfriend/wife/daughter/mother.

What a load of crap. I may be pre-programmed to feel this need for a man, this need to please others and sacrifice myself, but I'm rewriting the code. If you can't handle a confident, beautiful, intelligent woman who wants to chase her own dreams and is most likely smarter than you, you probably aren't worthy of her time in the first place.

Term of the day: Sympathy Deficit

I love politics. Not the daily process, not the glory of democracy, but the part where the politicians squirm about, pontificate, and sling mud at each other. There’s nothing quite like an intelligent, well-written, fantastically delivered speech full of political pandering to make me giggle first thing in the morning.

The Americans have been disappointing me on these fronts recently. We’ve had our own little bits of fun here at home, with sponsorship scandals, floor crossing, minority governments, drunk driving convictions, and pizza bribes. Listening to Mr. Harper or Mr. Dion speak is as exciting as watching the Leafs. On the whole, there hasn’t been anything entertaining enough to rant about (unless you’re Rick Mercer. Newfoundlanders find humor in everything).

Thank goodness for the Democrats. They’ve finally decided to get back to the nitty gritty, and they do it in style. Maybe it really isn’t that interesting, but with Hollywood writers on strike, what else is there to watch?

Having a close race with no clear favourite creates an aura of excitement about every speech, every debate, every primary. Neither political party has a clear frontrunner. Americans have no idea who they are going to choose for their next president. Can you blame them? Maybe it’s a result of the sympathy deficit.

Monday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the US. A day to remember the man, his message, and the ongoing battle for civil rights in America. All very important things. Barack Obama chose on this day to give a speech in Atlanta at the Ebenezer Baptist Church.

Let’s leave the irony in a Democrat making a very left-leaning speech to the masses at a church for the time being. That’s not what really amuses me, though I’m wondering where the “separation of church and state” camp will put this one. What caught my interest was Obama’s use of the word "deficit".

A term usually reserved for the fiscally inclined, “deficit” has an ominous ring to it. As Canadians, we associate the term with recession, inflation, big chins and other bad things we never want to see again. Deficits have been blacklisted since the early nineties, but unless you can convince Ralph Klein to lay off the booze and move to Ottawa, we’re going to see more of them in the immediate future. Actually, even King Ralph would have to tighten his belt these days. (Yes, I am flitting from country to country, politician to politician. Deal with it.)

There is a sympathy deficit in America. Consider yourself informed. Citizens (specifically those who belong to a visible minority) of the United States need to be more sympathetic to their fellow citizens (specifically those to belong to another visible minority) in order to make America a better place.

I’m not agreeing or disagreeing with this proclamation from the pulpit. I just think it’s intriguing. Don’t you? It applies to all of us, not just minorities. I like the idea of emotional deficits. Favreau (speech writer extraordinare) must know this, jean-wearing twenty something that he is. It implies that a little responsibility, sacrifice, and self-control will fix everything. It’s the same old touchy-feely idealist message, wrapped up in a sexy new Obama package. We could use some sexy in politics these days, particularly of the intelligent kind. I’m not saying he should win, or even that I'd vote for him if I was an American. I'm just a fan of the sexy.

Education, poverty, health care…where social issues are concerned, Americans have been turning a blind eye. Well, sure. So have Canadians. There are more important things to worry about, like ourselves.

We civilized humans in the Western world are a selfish bunch, particularly those under forty. We sit at home and play Guitar Hero instead of volunteering our time at soup kitchens or marching in protests. We keep our headphones in on the subway (listening to Arcade Fire to look cool, when we really want to listen to Bon Jovi); we walk around in our own little bubble that contains work and home, ignoring the rest of the world. We deal with our partners, our kids, our jobs, and that’s it. It’s a survival technique, and on an individual level, it works. For awhile.

I have a sympathy deficit myself. It consists of (but is not limited to) my ex, Ontario Teachers Pension Plan holders, lobster fishermen, record companies, Daniel Alfredsson, and “the man”. I’ll have to work on reforming my evil ways.

Kudos to Obama and Favreau for resurrecting the craft of speechwriting in American politics. Maybe they dreamed it up while trying to best Dragonforce on the “expert” setting. First Des Moines, now this. The boys in the Republican camp should be taking notes. So should Dion and Harper, come to think of it.

Here we are now. Entertain us! Make us feel that, by listening to such a charismatic person, we’ll be making the world, and ourselves, better. We’re all entitled to our delusions, after all.

Too litte, too late, and not enough

I love it.

A press release stating that tomorrow, we're going to announce that MLSE is firing someone, and hiring someone else.

Not that the firing is a surprise. I've been expecting it since October (and complaining, loudly, about the delay of the inevitable). Like all sports fans, I think I know what's best for "my" team, not like those idiots holding the reins.

But I digress. Is it just me, or isn't it kind of redundant to state you're going to fire someone tomorrow? Or to make an announcement that you'll be making an announcement to announce what you're relaying in the first announcement?

Just get it over with, already! Okay, you fired Ferguson. Like we couldn't see that coming. In a stroke of senility, MLSE re-hired geriatric Cliff Fletcher, whom they previously fired for his inability. Hmm. Sounds like a Stanley Cup winning move to me.

I can't be a Leafs fan without being a cynical, eye-rolling pessimist. It just isn't possible. The truth, as I see it, remains the same, no matter who stands behind the bench or plops his behind in the GM seat (which is probably a cushy place to be, win or lose). Why? We all know why. The owners want to make money, and they do so whether the team sits atop the standings or flails about in the basement.

Oh, lots of hand-wringing goes on, posturing and such. I'm sure Peddie wanders home after every press conference and giggles gleefully to himself, like Scrooge McDuck rolling about in his bank vault. (On weekends, they invite teachers over for giant coin-counting parties).

So, I'm going to pull out my crystal ball and predict what's going to happen. Fletcher is going to come in, and some shuffling is going to happen. Most likely, he'll trade Sundin (fingers crossed) and then re-sign him in the summer (which is the worst idea ever). He might make a few other crappy trades to try and spice things up for the rest of the season, maybe even move a goalie if we're lucky. However, the best best would be to let the team finish dead last, get a good draft position, and look forward.

Then again, it's very easy to sling orders from where I sit. And ol' Cliffy might find he won't have the freedom he enjoyed in the nineties.

Sit back, and enjoy the drama. This is better than "Days of our Lives."

Canada bends over backward again.

If the day gets any better, I'm going to start behaving badly. From re-reading this post, I am starting to think it's too late.

Browsing through the news, I came across the tidbit that Canada, in its diplomatic training manual, names Israel and the US as human rights abusers, specifically in reference to the torture of prisoners.

Canada created the manual after the Arar disaster in 2002. Live in a bubble? Well, to boil it down, the US detained a Canadian citizen who was flying through the US (as a terror suspect) and shipped him to Syria, where he was tortured. The US didn't do it all by themselves, though-they had help from the RCMP. It was a great big mess for all countries involved.

After that, the government thought it should educate its diplomats before sending them out into the world to represent our country. A little manual was written, all about the countries that procure information "by any means necessary" from those they detain. Seems like a good idea, eh?

Apparently not, when you put your neighbour on the list. Especially when that neighbour is irritable, prickly, overly sensitive, possesses a superiority complex, and has a MUCH larger army than you do. Not to mention nuclear weapons and the Stanley Cup. Particularly when the OTHER nation you mention is one of the most powerful, loved, hated, supported, and attacked nations in the Middle East.

Alan Baker is angry. David Wilkins is angry (but that's no surprise; if he's not demanding that Canada apologize for something, it's time to start worrying). The Canadian government scurries about, apologizes and says that the manual will be changed right away. Oh no, we can't offend anyone!

I don't find it amusing that we may or may not be mislabeling certain allies. According to the UN, what the US and Israel do may in fact violate human rights. What I find amusing is that certain topics, when they concern certain nations, are entirely off-limits.

The United States of America is mired in a crusade against terror, aka fundamentalist Muslims. However you want to sugarcoat it, that's what it is. You can agree with it, or not. Israel is also involved in a thousand year religious battle with Palestine (not that this dispute can be simply distilled into one sentence, but I don't have that much space). You can agree with it, or not. You can take sides, feign ignorance, or ignore it until it all goes away. These countries may have rules and regulations in place, but you and I have both seen enough cheesy Hollywood thrillers to know that rules are really just for throwing out the window when the going gets tough.

This isn't about torture, though. This is about religion.

Heaven forbid that you criticize either of these nations, or their actions. On the other side of the coin, heaven forbid you question religious organizations in developed countries about the messages they may be preaching (Christian, Islamic or otherwise). Politicians? Armed Forces? Nope, can't criticize them either. As Dawkins says, anything is fair game except religion. Well, he says it much more eleoquently than that, but that's what he means.

I'm allowed to tell you I think cheering for the Ottawa Senators is the epitome of insanity. I'm allowed to question you if you reveal your questionable obsession with Bon Jovi. Perhaps you'll even allow me to debate your staunch position on gun control. However, we are all supposed to tiptoe around the whole "God" issue.

You like the Senators? Fine. I don't like them. You can sing along to every song on "Slippery When Wet"? Wow. I really don't care. You believe that an army has the right to kill someone because they believe something different than what you have been taught is right since childhood? Well, I don't. GASP!

Why get into atheism in a post about a diplomatic manual? For one very simple reason. We aren't allowed to question our allies about their interrogation practices, because questioning either of those nations about any of their practices is eventually taken to be a criticism of their religion.

It's the ultimate schoolyard tactic (no, I'm not saying either of those countries are childish). I wish I could put it to better use in my own life. A fight starts. Words get thrown around, mothers get insulted, fists may fly. However, all the nerdy kid has to say, in the aftermath, is that the other party slandered his or her religion in some way.

DING! On go the labels. Game over.

It is just another example of how this road we're on gets more dangerous and confining every day.

Why I hate Guitar Hero

I started out to just make a top ten list of reasons I hate Guitar Hero. However, a mere bulleted list wasn't nearly adequate for holding all the hostility I've collected in the past few months. Hence, the diatribe. Enjoy.

My generation is the video game generation. I've long since come to terms with that. Since I was a child, I have gone from playing Atari to flailing wildly about at zombies on the Wii in my so-called adulthood.

Now, many females enjoy video games, but we don't seem to be as obsessed with them as our male counterparts. Personally speaking, I lost interest sometime during the "Quake 2" phenomenon in university. Perhaps I outgrew it; perhaps I stopped because I no longer lived in a home with electricity or owned a TV. Whatever the reason, it's been about eight years since I was in the loop. Most of my female friends are the same.

In 2007, I had the opportunity to travel around and visit long lost friends I haven't seen since my university days. Unlike me, they got useful degrees, real jobs, and have bright career paths. Before arriving in Toronto in October, I was anticipating some intellectual conversation. Working in a small BC resort town, one doesn't often hear conversation outside the topics of snow, skiing, logging, and the railway.

Instead of intellectual intercourse, I got Guitar Hero.

What smart folks my age do, when they are not working, is sit at home and play Guitar Hero. When socializing is in order, they take their fake plastic guitars to their friends' places and everyone takes turns playing Guitar Hero, while others watch. Then they videotape it, put it on You Tube, and watch You Tube videos of other people playing Guitar Hero. Even my most reliably intelligent friend was playing the damn game when I arrived for the evening.

This can't be everyone, I thought. Maybe it's just a disease geeky urbanite Torontonians are spreading around.

Flash forward to Vancouver in December. I meet with two long-lost girlfriends one evening, and the subject of the game never arises. The next night, I am invited to attend a wine and cheese party with a male friend. Ahhh, wine and cheese. Booze and food, intellectual conversation. I didn't really know anyone, but who cares? There will be wine!

We walk in the door, and are given a glass of wine. In the living room, two tables are covered in delicious, expensive, exotic cheese. My wine is delicious, and definitely cost more than ten dollars a bottle. Approaching thirty, this type of party seems more along the lines of what I was expecting, the sing-along to bad Bon Jovi songs notwithstanding.

Until the next set of guests arrived, plastic guitars in their little snazzy cases. Out comes the game, on goes the TV. Guitar Hero reigned for the rest of the evening.

New Years in New Brunswick? Guitar Hero. In Toronto in January, I saw people walking around downtown carrying the silly plastic guitars. It's utterly ridiculous. I never walked around toting my Duck Hunt gun in a holster.

Now, I don't mind video games, I love music, and I love playing the guitar. I love discussing music, jamming about, talking nerdy, talking politics, throwing paper airplanes, puddle jumping, making snowpeople, and many other random things. My friends do as well. I've tried playing the game, and it isn't bad, all things considered. However, the frenzy that has gripped my friends is rather disturbing.

As generations go, ours is already seriously deprived of social skills. Email, ICQ, MSN, Blackberrys, and text messages have us speaking different languages. Telephones are bad enough, but face to face communication? How scary! I've watched people send each other text messages from different ends of the couch. Okay, it was actually me.

Any time I gather with my friends in the same room, it's a miracle we can even look at each other. I don't need that time zapped by another technological craze. Getting a date is hard enough already.

I'm a musician, so I could rant and rave about how this game is not anything like playing a real guitar, how it creates arrogant assholes who don't know a thing about how hard it actually is to play those songs. Not to mention all the annoying air guitar playing that goes on or how I get tired hearing the same songs repeated endlessly as someone perfects their score. Many of my friends don't even like most of the bands whom they are emulating! Insanity.

I won't, though. The real reason I despise this game is because I have better things to do, and I want to do them with my friends. That's all.

So take your wrist off the whammy bar, remove the plastic appendage, and look at me, sitting here, waiting to communicate. Actually, I'm waiting for the best possible moment to crack a joke about your mom I've been saving for weeks.