By Lucy

There is a theory for human evolution called the “drunk monkey” theory. It posits that humans are genetically drawn to alcohol because, back when we were primates, the fruit that contains the most sugars and nutrients are also the ones that overripen and ferment quickly. So we learned to equate alcohol with nutrition. That theory got a bit of a boost this week when chimps were confirmed to intentionally go for fruit that had fermented on the vine and consume the equivalent of a beer a day.

I’m happy with my book, for once. I’ve got the frame done, so to speak, and now all that’s left is to flesh out all the story beats. To that point, anything that takes me away from writing is becoming increasingly annoying. I’m starting to wish I had a lighthouse job; a job where all I am doing is minding an isolated location, like a lighthouse, so I could be paid to write in peace.

Hanuman spent the morning trying to get Emily to agree to go on a walk. They finally agreed on walking at Trowbridge, and I agreed to go as well (they weren’t getting there without the car) but at the last minute I changed my mind. I dropped them off and went to Boulevard – I wanted to walk by myself.

There was some caution tape scattered around the ground. Was there an event yesterday? I finally noticed a Terry Fox sign – must have been a Terry Fox run the day before.

For those who didn’t grow up in Canada, Terry Fox is the enduring symbol of cancer in Canada. In 1977, at 18, he developed an osteosarcoma in his knee and had his leg amputated, replaced with a prosthetic, and enduring chemo. At the time, the five year survival rate for his cancer was 50%. 3 years later, he started the “Marathon of Hope”, running from coast to coast with the goal of raising at least one dollar from every Canadian (which was 1 million at the time, a number that seems small now). He started running in St John’s in relative obscurity. 9 months later he had run all the way to Thunder Bay and gathered quite the following, where he discovered the cancer had returned in his lungs. He was forced to quit the marathon to pursue aggressive chemo, and died of lung cancer at age 22.

(Y’know, I never realized he was born and raised in Winnipeg.)

I actually don’t like Terry Fox. Every Canadian kid is forced to participate in a “Terry Fox” run annually in school and as someone who grew up staring down the barrel of a diagnosis, being told by ignorant teachers to be grateful it wasn’t me was very grating. I also resent him being supported during his treatment, while I wasn’t. And that’s the reality for most. Laugh and the world laughs with you; cry and you cry alone.

Whatever.

I went on my walk, stewing away. At one point a flying boat landed on Lake Superior.

When I got back to where I had parked the car, the road was blocked off by cops. Wait, the run was today? That was poorly sign-posted! I hopped in the car and took off. The cops let me out without a fuss.

Emily and Hanuman wanted to go to Beefcakes and paid for me, which was nice of them. I got a bacon and blue cheese burger, like usual.

Once we got home and I got all my chores done, I settled into writing. I was 3’000 words deep when I got a series of confusing and distracting texts from a drunk Duff, culminating in him calling me at 11PM.

Fantastique.

I wish I had alcohol. It’s ironic that I could never use a drink more than when I can’t afford it.

My head hurts.

Off to school. Richard, who used to be a cop so we all call him Officer Richard, broke his skateboard on the weekend. He brought in a piece of it to be fixed with a hammer (I’m not an expert on skateboards so I won’t pretend to know what it was). He had been whaling on it so hard he warped the piece, but Landon fixed it with a single swing. Richard asks what he takes in his coffee, which he replied “Black” and we all pointed out there’s a stir stick in his cup at all times. Carpenters enjoy the taste of wood?

I think Richard has a drinking problem. He’s had a few cases of the Mondays and he often nods off in class.

Emerson has a bad habit of trying to do his schoolwork while Landon is talking, which has prompted Landon to threaten him with punishment a few times. Other David lost his textbook twice and had to buy a replacement.

Landon has been making us write lines out of the textbook. It is the most boring thing you can imagine. I texted Margaret about it and she said she had to do that in all 3 levels, so I get lots of line copying to look forward to. That being said, some of these guys can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, so maybe it’s justified. One of the few times I feel overqualified to be here. Me and David get extra lines because we annoy Landon by being done so quick.

I daydream staring out the window a lot, a habit I picked up as a child. People have a curious habit of driving their dogs out to this end of town for a walk, possibly because it’s empty most of the time and so they can go off-leash. There’s also a lot of driver training in the area, for the same reason; it’s a city street with very little traffic, so you can practice proper turns and braking without annoying people.

It’s funny that I do so well in school now, cuz in elementary and high school I was a solid C student, just coasting by with enough to pass. The biggest issue was that my mother kept changing my classes to put me in courses she thought I should be taking but which didn’t interest me at all.

One of the worst classes for this was music. When me and my brother were little, she browbeat us into taking piano lessons that neither of us were very invested in. Literally, neither of us expressed an interest in playing music, and she bullied us into it. As a result, neither of us ever wanted to practice, although I’m skilled enough that I was able to get thru the early lessons with little friction. My brother, sensing this was important to my mother for whatever reason, switched to guitar and then violin, not sticking with either long and not practicing much. I did take up guitar after a while (she’d already bought one for him, after all) and again, it’s not that I wasn’t skilled, it’s that I wasn’t interested in pursuing it. Eventually I reached the level that required real investments of time and I dropped out.

The theme continued in high school. I signed up for art class, but my mother moved me into music because “you like music!”. I failed and the next year I was allowed to go into art class, where I did very well (I think it was my highest mark that year).

It’s just sort of ironic how my mother would rant about ‘dance moms’ trying to vicariously live through their kids’ achievements while ignoring what my own interests were. I filled notebook after notebook with stories and spent every evening drawing at the dinner table, but it never occurred to her to put me in a creative writing class or an art class. I’ve been published in a collective book of poems (which I don’t brag about much anymore because it has the wrong name now). I had some of my art exhibited at the Maclaren Art Centre in Barrie, which confused the shit out of her. She even took me out of the creative writing course I signed up for in high school, which I was finally only able to take in grade 12 and did very well, again. And she took me out of fashion and put me in pre-law. And who knows where I’d be if she had taken me to modelling lessons.

Shrug.

Actually, not even that. My mother went out of her way to disabuse me of the notion that I could be a great writer by pointing out that most writers don’t make it big, and claiming that every good writer has a university degree. Ignoring that her favourite, Hunter S Thompson, had no degree whatsoever, as he was too busy snorting lines of blow and riding Harleys.

I asked Landon what it takes to be a teacher here. He seemed to take that as a threat and acted slightly offended. Seriously, by the time I make journeyman it’ll probably be like 7 years from now and he’ll be debating retiring. Or Bruce will be.

We’re learning about printreading now. I was surprised that most of the class didn’t know about property grades, swales, setbacks or easements, but then I guess Thunder Bay is kind of a wild west of building codes. A lot of the houses currently standing were hacked together by Italian and Finnish immigrants post World War 2 and are all kinds of janky. I’m also doubly surprised because my dad taught me most of this stuff when I was a kid and all these guys grew up in the trades.

I decided I ought to hit the foodbank. I discovered, to my unpleasant surprise, that most of the foodbanks in town operate every other week, and they operated in the morning. What happens if you’re part of the working poor? What happens if, like me, you discover you need food in between those weeks? A cold chill ran down my back as I realized I wasn’t going to make the week.

I posted on Discord about the foodbanks and got in a fight with some of the others. They were so rude Paul also yelled at them and was kicked out for it (why wasn’t I?). I put the group on mute. Why does everyone have to kick you when you’re down?

Whatever, who needs them.

Kev contacted me and e-transferred me some money for groceries, which I appreciated. I also emailed Chris, who had been suspicious about my mood, and confessed what was going on. Him and Sue were instantly supportive, and Chris informed me Dew Drop also offers grocery support.

I was annoyed that I couldn’t go sailing Monday night because I got roped into a Rotary Zoom meeting, which ended up being a waste of my time. Four score and seven centuries ago, or so it feels, at my last Rotary meeting I agreed to help organize some Rotary youth event. However, once the meeting started I discovered the date being floated for the event was November 22nd, which is after I plan to leave, and everyone was annoyed at the idea of including me in the planning when I couldn’t attend in person. Well fine, if you don’t want any of my input, I shall just take my leave. I haven’t been to a Rotary meeting in like 3 months, why did none of you contact me earlier?

Tuesday was the first day I tried walking to school. I admit, I was a bit nervous. Words are one thing, action is another. But the truth is that I no longer had enough money to put gas in the tank.

It wasn’t too bad. Technically most of the trip was through Lakehead U, but I did encounter a bit of a bother because Google automatically creates walking paths where it detects people walk a lot, whether or not it’s a maintained path. Google determined the fastest path is a shortcut worn into the woods, winding along the river, which threw me for a loop because I couldn’t find it at first. After I figured out where it was and that I wasn’t about to be arrested for trespassing, it was actually a lovely walk beside the babbling brook, in the pre-dawn glow. Plus it’ll be under cover of the trees for my return journey.

It smells of apples. Yum!

There use to be a couple acres of trees behind the hall. They’ve disappeared overnight, cut down and mulched by OPG.

We learned about foundations. Landon is aggressively anti-basement, which I find baffling. Maybe it’s my southern upbringing.

Then we started working on our next project. It’s funny cuz everyone keeps calling them Adirondack chairs, but I grew up calling them Muskoka chairs. Landon has a single set of plans for us to all copy off of, and three 1×5’s each. Depending on how lucky you are with the wood you get, you could theoretically finish it with about a third of a board unused, but I got a couple with some giant knots in the middle and had to be creative with the placement. Of course, this is no different than trying to place sewing pattern pieces on a bolt of patterned fabric, so I was fine. David placed his pieces so catastrophically that he ended up having to get another piece of wood.

Landon’s instructions with the jigsaws was “this is the pointy end, don’t grab it”. Wait, Landon, I’ve never used one of these before!… Oh I give up. I just ask David for help now.

As we gathered back in the classroom at the end of the day, Landon informed us that the next day and Thursday would be first aid training. For reasons.

One of the things that really annoys me is how inconsistent our classroom time is. I got a call asking me to come in for a scope on Monday and declined because I couldn’t get an answer from Landon on if we would just be doing bookwork. We thought we’d spend the rest of the week working on the chairs, and now we were doing a first aid course we didn’t know we were doing at all!

One year ago I left for NZ. How I wish I had never come back.

I grabbed some apples off a tree as I walked past. They were some bastard hybrid of golden delicious and crab apples, softened and warmed on the tree in the afternoon sun.

Paul leaves for his trip to Calgary. Take me with you!

Someone asked to see the car and we make plans for Thursday. That gives me time to clean it up.

This week is Harry Potter trivia. Work work work.

Y’know, I never liked Lupin. He gave a lot of people the heebee jeebees because he was more than ten years older than Tonks, but I don’t care about that part (can’t throw stones in that department). What really bothered me is that he was a coward, always running away from things. Being a kids book, the story doesn’t get into how exactly Tonks ended up pregnant, but the implication is that he agreed to knock her up and then regretted it and bailed at the last minute, which is the worst! The kid exists whether you want it to or not, leaving now is just leaving a kid whom you admit is already at a disadvantage with a single parent is not improving things. Especially his rant about making Tonks an outcast, when she was obviously drawn to him because of her existing outcast status as an offbeat punk kid to an Old Blood wizarding family.

What I find interesting is the way that everyone seems to be copying me. It’s always been a joke that I prefer the company of older men because of my interests, but as I got into my twenties and started thinking I should find men my own age to hang out with, I discovered we had less and less in common. Multiple newspaper articles have noted that men my age and younger are drifting to the right, and it’s not hard to see from a macro view that older men are actually more leftist than my generation. A lot of the male rock bands in the 70’s and 80’s wore long hair and make-up during a time when that was feminine, and played around with gender fluidity. Think Aerosmith’s “Dude Looks Like A Lady”. Now the studies are starting to come in; women my age are starting to date guys older and older, because men their own age are too far to the right for them. I was ahead of the curve the whole time!

I ran over to Kevin’s as the sun went down, to use his hose to wash off the car. For the record, you don’t need car wash liquid to wash a car; a spray bottle with some dish soap will do just as well. His hose is a bit short because it’s for watering his garden, but I made it work. Sanded down the parts that need the paint fixed and grabbed the paint pen out.

Now, you always use the pen on a piece of cardboard first. When the paint started to flow, my jaw fell open… it was black! Good thing I hadn’t touched it to my car!

Crap. Now I have bare metal and no paint. Hopefully the dealership still has the right pen!

Wednesday I drove in. I should put a bit of gas in the tank because my buyer will probably want to test-drive it.

First Aid was nothing exciting in the sense that I’ve been first aid certified since I was 16 and I know it all back to front. I have a St John’s Ambulance kit in my car. The trainer, Alex, is an old friend of Bruce’s and teaches with the straightforward brusque attitude of a drill sergeant. In addition to the usual first aid training, he also admonished us to cut down on salt and sugar, asked the class who smoked and excoriated them to stop, and asked who had kids so he could provide them extra tips on keeping children safe.

He was thorough in good ways, though, and it was surprising to see who knew what. From Richard’s short career as a cop, he had dealt with a fair number of medical episodes, including performing CPR on an overdose victim until help arrived. I was apparently the only person who has experienced someone having a hallucination (James suffered a psychotic break halfway thru our relationship and had to be hospitalized). It also reminded me of encountering the guy who was passed out with a broken leg last year.

Some of the guys are really ignorant. When Richard mentioned the overdose victim, Adam said, “but did you really have to save them?”

I slammed my hands on the desk, biting my tongue. I was this close to either screaming at him or storming out, but I did neither and everyone shut up and looked at me warily.

Ignorant prick. These people have no idea they’re basically wishing I’d die in a ditch, but they’d probably backpedal if they knew.

On the way out, Julie called me over, “How’s first aid?”

“Fine.” I glanced backwards, “He’s very… thorough.”

“Well.” She also glances around. “Let’s just say he has personal experience of someone not knowing what they were doing.”

Oh dear.

Swung by the dealership on the way home. Hallelujah, the correct pen was still there.

After I got home from school, I made some dinner and armed myself to go out and start working on the car.

Some of the stuff, like car polish and seat shampoo, I had already. Hanuman had a shop vac I could borrow. Of course, the sandpaper and other bits I had bought a couple weeks ago, when everything hadn’t been so dire.

First thing’s first, touch up the paint. You want to do thin coats and let them dry between coats. Touched up here and there, then started vacuuming down the seats and floor. Wipe down the dash. Appy another coat. Shampoo the seats. Clay bar some of the flat areas.

I could probably make this a side hustle, actually, but I think I’d want to practice more before I charge people for it. Maybe on Paul’s truck.

Chris and Susan showed up at some point. Chris told me it was to drop off donations for the Soroptimist yard sale, but Sue handed me a hundred dollar gift card to Walmart and ordered me to buy something more nutritious than 3$ hotdogs. Chris did also have a donation for the yard sale… a Black and Decker “power station” that is 300 dollars new! My jaw dropped to the floor even as my eyes glittered with avarice… I could take this to a pawn shop and have a bit of cash…

Shakes head. No.

“I can’t drop this off at the sale!” I protested. “We’d have to sell it for at least a hundred bucks!”

“So do that then.” He said simply.

Gol-ly.

The problems started Thursday.

I woke up and noticed my hearing was a bit dim. I always struggle with ear plugs pushing ear wax further into my ear, so I just applied the usual ear drops and shrugged it off.

Walked to school so as to not disturb my beautiful detailing job on the car. One of the guys asked me why I was walking and I said I was too broke to afford gas, to which he laughed and said, “Yeah, it goes quick when the paychecks stop, huh?”

You have no idea.

I’m not the only one suffering, but I am the only one suffering to this extent.

We all passed our First Aid training and the teacher let us go by 2. He had grown fond of me and bid me to take care of myself, with some heavy emphasis… I think he could tell I’ve been thru some stuff/ have a chronic illness.

Paul arrived safely in Calgary.

I confirmed the buyer was still planning on coming over around noon, but he never showed. I gave him an extra ten minutes and left to go grocery shopping at Walmart. He never messaged me to explain why he was a no-show or ask to see the car again, which baffles me.

I ran into Judy while grocery shopping. Grabbed some prizes for trivia night.. they had Harry Potter Chocolate!

I also found some strawberries from the Holland marsh, which I bought for a taste of home. Whatever home means anymore. And some oatmeal raisin cookies for Hanuman.

I went to Spirit Halloween and grabbed a Gryffindor hat as a prize. 25$, why is licensed merch so expensive…

I didn’t realize it when I snapped the photo, but Venus was rising with the crescent moon when I was making breakfast.

That’s me, the morning star!

Actually it’s funny, I tend to listen to the same song on repeat when I’m writing, and this week’s song is “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails for some reason. I still have to remind myself that I’m allowed to make my characters do messed up things. Do you think Stephen King ever got called into the principals office for writing horror stories in elementary school?

Singing; Help me, I’ve got no soul to sell…

Drove to school. My EI should come in on Monday and then I’m freee….

I got called by my doctor again, this time by her personally. The only appointment she could offer me was October tenth, before we’d be looking at 2026, and I should get this done before I leave. October tenth should be fine… At that point we’ll just be studying for the exam, which I am not worried about.

Landon takes us into the shop to show us how the router works. His hand is inexplicably bleeding, which he shrugs off. Carpenters.

As the day continued on, a realization sunk in. I had lost hearing in my right ear, almost entirely. We spent most of the day in the shop with ear plugs in, cutting with the jigsaw and sanding with a palm sander, so it wasn’t obvious at first. But in the evening it was undeniable. My hearing is gone.

After school I ran around trying to find chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts as prizes, but I was unsuccessful, so I went to Bulk Zone and grabbed some appropriate British snacks.

Trivia night was painfully quiet. As I took in the crowd that did show up, I realized the cover charge wasn’t actually going to even cover what I had bought for prizes, since the hat and the snacks were expensive.

Crap.

We did have some dedicated fans. A little girl named Charlie showed up in full Gryffindor regalia, complete with fake glasses and scar, and bouncing in her seat with excitement. I was mentally glad I hadn’t included any “adult” questions. Kevin brought me a big wizards hat to wear that looked oddly like the Sorting Hat. Jeremy also showed up to support me, which ended up confirming my attempts to write questions that anyone with a passing knowledge of mythology and critical thinking skills could answer.

Breathe.

Everyone had a good time. I reserved the chocolate for throwing at the crowd for bonus answers. Charlie got so much chocolate her mother started taking it from me to reserve for later (fair enough). A man who happened to be in Howl at the same time joined as well, even though he didn’t know anything about Harry Potter, because I made it so fun. Yay!

When it was over and the prizes were dolled out, Charlie came up to me with her hands clasped. “For you!” She threw her hands forward and I caught what was in them on instinct. It was a crumpled ten dollar bill and a couple of her bracelets.

“I had so much fun! I can’t wait for next time!”

Then she was gone, and I was still staring in disbelief at my hands. My eyes started tearing up.

No time for emotions. Onwards!

There was a drone show over the water, so we went down to the boat at Chris’ invitation. Sue and a whole bunch of people were there too, and Sue had brought out a whole bunch of cheese; Camembert, aged gouda, some soft cheese with pistachios in it (pistachios are my new snack obsession), some other soft cheese with spicy things… I couldn’t resist gobbling it up, knowing it might be a while before I could afford good cheese again.

Chris’ in-laws were visiting Thunder Bay and mentioned Maxwell. I jokingly asked if he still had the flashlight, expecting a confused no, but to my surprise they were like “oh yes, it’s his favourite toy! Are you the flashlight lady?” I sheepishly had to admit that yes, I bought him the flashlight, and they invited me to stay with them in Kitimat if ever I visit.

Might take them up on it.

We stayed and socialized a bit after the drone show was over, but eventually I was too tired and cold and I headed out.

I’ve lost the hearing in my right ear completely.

It’s really disorienting. It doesn’t hurt and there’s no discharge, but there’s no mistaking that I can only barely hear anything from it. It feels like it’s full of water and I catch myself digging in it a lot, trying to get the water out, or tugging at my earlobe or massage my cheek. My head also hurts and since the ear drops aren’t producing anything, I’m starting to think I have some kind of serious infection, although it also crosses my mind that it could be somatic. It wouldn’t be outside of the realm of possibility to lose my hearing from mental distress.

I don’t adjust to not hearing well. It consumes a lot of my attention in the days that follow.

When I file my EI report, it tells me they got new information about my claim. Finally!

There’s a warship parked down at the docks, the first time in over a decade one has travelled all the way up here. I should go see it.

I went to the farmer’s market first. Even though I got there fairly early, Slate River Dairy’s sold out of most things. She was kind enough to sell me 2 1L bottles of milk for the price of a regular 2. The parking lot was lousy with people because it’s Thundercon and I was in a rush to head out, only realizing I forgot cream when I was most of the way down the road. Well, I’m not going back! She might have been sold out anyway.

Wander around the boat. At one point I realized I was in the background of a CTV shot, but when I tracked down the footage later I discovered they had cut away from the footage to some B roll, so I’m not visible. Oh darn.

The boat is pretty cool. It’s more spacious than I thought. I think I’d like to join the Navy, if I were ever fit for duty.

A couple of guys tried to recruit me – and they seemed to have a good eye, because they mentioned the trades and I wasn’t wearing any UBC gear – but I declined. I’m committed to my world travelling plans now. I was debating the reserves after I come back, get some extra income and serve my country.

Hanuman was excited when I got home. Emily passed her exam, so she’s licensed as a nurse now. Yay!

In the discussion about careers, Hanuman mentioned that I wear the new work pants well. Meaning that they suit me, which was interesting to think about. I do feel sort of awkward in them, like I’m just cosplaying as a carpenter.

Jeremy came over with the last Sakuraco box for Breaking Bad. We managed to watch 3 episodes and finish season 4, which was sad cuz my favourite character is Gus, but I am also looking forward to the show wrapping up. I’m also finding the twists and turns the story takes to keep Jesse and Walter bonded increasingly contrived.

I also forgot about an observation I had earlier. Walt has daddy issues. He mentions that one of his strongest memories from his childhood was visiting his dying father in the hospital, and the smell of the chemicals stuck with him. Meaning, Walt got into chemistry and a PhD in it because the smell of chemicals reminds him of his father. Family! The ties that bind!

The Sakuraco snacks were really good. Unlike the other two boxes, there were no snacks we thought were super disgusting. In Japan, fall is known as tsukimi, and the symbol of autumn is usagi, or a rabbit, which I find curious because in Western culture a rabbit is a symbol of the spring. It seems to be because the moon is upside down in Japan, and the shape of the craters looks like a rabbit to them.

The winner was these baked ring chip things with Hokkaido cheese, truffles and French salt. Jeremy continues to discover a love of mochi and dango.

Jeremy started talking about Enneagrams, which prompts a story about Canadian schools. So in Canada, in high school you have to take a grade ten course called Careers and Civics. The idea is that it’s supposed to teach you about parliament, and about having a career, and that neither course is long enough to stretch to a full semester so they just smash them together, which I think is inaccurate. My version of Careers was taking lots of personality tests to “determine” what kind of career we would best be suited for, which seemed kind of silly even at the time. But what was really weird is that before we started taking the tests, the teacher declared that there’s always one kid who gets all the unusual, rare results, and she thought it would be me. And after a lifetime of being told I was useless and stupid, being told I was special was kind of terrifying, so I argued with her.

But she was right. I got all the rare results, which were all for a leadership personality. Which caused her to do a victory lap and discuss my results with the class and it was generally extremely embarrassing and not helpful.

Anywho, I don’t remember what Enneagram I got, so I took the test while me and Jeremy were watching Walter do something stupid. Turns out I don’t remember which result I got because I didn’t get one. Which is a genuine result you can get; if none of your categories are more than 50%, the test will still give you the result of the one that was the highest but tells you basically you don’t have one. The central concept of Enneagrams is the idea of tracking down what neuroses you developed from childhood trauma and how it drives you, but despite all my complaining about my childhood none of it affects me in that way. Per the example above, my mother never succeed in convincing me I would never be a great author, but by the same token it’s not like I want to succeed because I want to prove her wrong or something. I have always wanted to be a great author, I will always want to be a great author, the Earth continues to spin.

One question did stick with me, though.

Is that true? It feels painful, heart wrenchingly true, even as my cynical side tells me it’s wrong.

“You don’t want to give up”

What is that supposed to me?