This blog's for ME

Almost 25 years old, asking my parents if I can sleep in their bed with them. I had thought I was going to be the 25th Prime Minister of Canada. Things had changed. 10 years later, I was still a scared little boy. The time had come to slap myself awake. One Saturday morning, November 19th, 2009, I declared to the world I would be riding my 10 year-old motorcycle from Vancouver, BC Canada to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, and back.

The official departure was August 28th, 2010. A group of well-wishers saw me off at 8:03 am.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro around 6 pm March 1st, 2011.

My return to Vancouver came on July 5th, 2011 about 2:00 pm.

Drug & alcohol abuse, ADD, social anxiety, health, chronic pain, night terrors.

So many concerns. But I am far more interested in this question: Do I have the capacity to make this trip despite all my shortcomings?

My mission: To inspire myself to face my fears, enlighten myself on how all living things can peacefully co-exist, enjoy every moment, and see the world as plentiful and generous.

Go ahead. Call me crazy. Call me anything you like.

I'm out to save my world.


Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me:


After a conversation tonight with my beautiful sister Jodi, I realized how much small, seemingly benign interactions with people I looked up to as a child had impacted my life. We were reminiscing about old times, and she had said that when I was about 5 and she was about 7, we would often go on holidays to B.C. from Alberta in a Dodge pickup truck with a topper on the back. Not one of these fancy campers, I'm talking pretty cramped quarters. A piece of plywood would span the wheel wells, and we'd have our foamies and blankets to lay out on, without seatbelts (egads!). Her and I would keep each other company for hours while mom and dad, and often a set of grandparents would be in front in the club cab. There was a space between the topper and the cab, and a white inflatable round tube was placed there to cut down on wind while the back window could be kept open.

Jodi told me that, to get me to do things she would threaten to not be my friend anymore. On the verge of tears, I would do anything so that she would say she was still my friend. And so started 30 some years of wanting everyone to like me. It wasn't until the last year or so I realized people liking me wasn't that important, and that it was hurting me way more than helping me. My long standing guilt for tormenting my sister in her teen years suddenly dissipated once I realized she probably did way more damage to me than I did to her! My fave name for her was 'a green-eyed hog-nosed snake'; pretty rude, but at least I never said she wasn't my friend!!!

On the diet front, I know you've all been waiting to find out. Yes, I'm still going despite a quick glance at the whiskey bottle, and a quick craving for a smoke after I finally found a new roommate. Cooked some rice pasta and sauce, which caused absolutely no problem to speak of, despite having stomach aches for the last 36 hours basically. It's the best I've felt in 5 days. A fellow named Clayton that I met a couple nights ago at Kino Cafe, the Spanish Flamenco restaurant on Cambie , suggested the source of my GI troubles was emotional. Considering the stress of finding a new roommate may soon be over after 3 weeks, he may be right.

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