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:

Feel Ok

Today, I spent sometime writing, and grappling with myself. I was able to concentrate, but found myself feeling the task of writing a book to be such a huge task. Several mental health tips required to keep at it, when ADD brain wants to kick in and distract with something shiny, or more interesting or more fun. With the prospect of showing work to others, and laying bare my own opinions and ideas to potential rejection, and criticism, it does somewhat intrigue me to wonder how far some people would shun you for what you write. Vancouver is a pretty laid back town, but everyone has at least one thing that is off limits, don't they?

It's not been a vacation. This is a mental gym. I stretch, and run every morning for an hour, sticking to a routine that feels good. If I am to get what I want in life, I will have to commit to some sort of routine, to break away at the ice between me and how I want to feel, how I want to be. It disgusts me sometimes to look at the years, and endless journal entries of working at oneself. I realized today, all this writing is to do one thing: to feel ok. All I have to do is just feel ok. I don't have to talk about my feelings, I don't have to meticulously plan my days. Just feel ok. Off to watch Marley & Me, and possibly some volleyball on the sand court across from the gymnasio.

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