Carl's Blogosphere

Hey there loyal readers!  Good to see you coming back to the ol’ blog and now I’ve completed my Journalism portfolio for all to see!  Whew!  Lotsa work man I’ll tell ya, and I have to admit, it really took me back to my newspaper reporter days when I would be doing just this sort of thing.  *sniff*

Move your mouse above to the header entitled “Dawson Creek Daily News/Alaska Highway News Portfolio” for the latest additions.  Wewt!

Ah well, when your body tells you to stop doing something because it becomes too stressful, one should probably listen.  I mean hey, how long could I keep up the crazy-mad Journalist schedule of 12 hour days, 5 days a week, and then call-ins the other 2 days for up to 6 hours each?!?  I mean, really?

Haaaaaaaaaaaaalp!!

And then, the chest pains came due to the stress I was experiencing…  Oh God.  Now THAT was scary.  After having survived a myocardial infarction only 3 years previous to that in 2010, and to come so close to another one in 2013.  Damn.  That was the first time I had to use my Nitroglycerin spray to calm the fire within my chest.  For those who don’t know about this crazy little bottle of stuff does, click the above link to BC’s Healthlink for a detailed description.  Essentially, it’s a nitrate and it widens the arteries leading to your heart when you feel chest pains (angina).  BUT, it’s major side effect is a CRAZY huge headache.

Anyhow, that wasn’t the only problem with being a small-town newspaper reporter.  For those of you who have children of your own, and you have say 3 or 4 of them, now imagine you have approx. 30,000 children.  Which happens to be the combined total populations of Dawson Creek, BC and Fort St. John, BC.  As the regional reporter for the Peace Region, those two cities were included in that region, and writing articles for all of those people to read, it felt like I had THAT many children.  And many of them would call me up on the phone, and bitch, whine, and complain that I hadn’t taken just the right photo, or called too much attention to THEIR dilemma which THEY called me up in the first place to help with, or I had interviewed THIS or THAT person instead of the people I chose.  And on, and on, and on, and on.  It was an endless stream of unappreciative bullshit from the most selfish buggers to ever walk the earth.

“I was trying to help you guys!”

FUCK.

And of course, if you’re like me, who only wanted to help and to gain the respect of the community, which I did with many, BUT, there were some who went ballistic on me for this or that reason, you have to stand back and say, is this worth the degradation to my health?  But, the short answer to that question is, why didn’t you do this 20 years ago, right after High School like you should have?  Well, that’s a great question to that question.

However, for those who are not aware, it is PDE 5 inhibitors, so it represses the movement of PDE 5 enzyme on the body and will help in making the blood flow normal to the penile tadalafil cialis india area. Erectile Dysfunction condition in man is the inability for attaining or maintaining a stiffer penile erection for having an amazing cheap viagra 100mg sex life. It makes a tadalafil tablets prices http://mouthsofthesouth.com/locations/page/48/ good number of people, even when they have the urge to increase their virility to think twice. Based on the previous study report, Kamagra at 50mg or 100mg helped approximately 4 out of 5 men to get and keep erections hard enough for pleasing lovemaking activities with their female order generic cialis partners. I should have.  But at the time I was struggling with other stuff like, loss of direction in life, a pitiful childhood, a move out to godforsaken farm country in Chestermere away from my friends in the big city of Calgary, right in time for Grade 9, a decision of which I despise even to this day.  I had friends and a job delivering The Calgary Herald newspaper to residents in Willow Park.  A job I loved and would have moved up to something bigger within the newspaper organization itself had I not been ripped away from that life.  That WAS my ticket into Journalism then, which WAS my plan to get into RIGHT AFTER high school.  BUT, that plan was blown to smithereens with a fucking move out to godforsaken Chestermere.  A stinking-like-shit-or-sulfur farm county 25 kilometers east of Calgary. Not exactly a place I could go back and forth to without a car at that young age… or parents willing to drive back and forth to several times a day to deliver newspapers or go to my old school.

So, I was stuck out in farm country, in the summer of 1989, with no job, no friends, and about to attend the local school, a VERY different public school away from my private RELIGIOUS school in Calgary.  With kids that I likened to little savages with no moral code of any kind.  What a wake-up call THAT was.  Holy hell.

Chestermere’s evil kids. Everywhere.

That decision I had NO say in, a decision where mother-dearest said, “I want my piece of the world.”  Her, “piece of the world”, our spread near Lake Chestermere, was 20 acres of Alfalfa Sprouts which sat there, year after year, doing nothing except growing on its own, with NO intervention from us.  But that was mom’s “piece of the world”.  And of course, my father being the supportive guy he was, was on board with this feather-brained idea of my mother’s, and off to Chestermere we moved.  /facepalm.

Chestermere Lake. Once heralded by CTV News as being the most polluted lake in Alberta. The smell of either SHIT or rotten eggs in the outlying areas doesn’t help.  Welcome to a farmer’s dream.  Raw sewage from Calgary injected into the surrounding farmland every spring before seeding that acted as “compost” and “nutrients” for growing stuff.  Yuk and damn!

Oh woe is me.

Anyways, there I go again regretting the past.  I guess I can only hope that this life is salvageable for something grander than paying massive amounts of debt and worrying about the future.  I guess I am thankful to have some good friends at work, (both jobs) and people I can rely on when times get tough when no one else (that you’d expect) would step in.

I am thankful for that.  And The Good Lord Jesus’ love and grace.

Thank-you Jesus.

Howdy all!  I’ve been away for a while (actually quite a while) because I’ve been so busy working two jobs SEVEN days a week as a result.  Whew!  These days I’m working an average of 61 hours a week and boy I tell ya…  I wouldn’t wish this schedule on anyone. DAMN.  But hey, this debt has been dragging on me something awful but I’m really kicking its ass now baby.  Let’s hope I can stay the course, God willing.

I’m no longer a dock worker as it states in my previous post, but working at a MUCH higher paying job but it requires a night shift schedule, more so than the previous job needed me to.  So in conjunction with that reality, my 2nd job is also a night shift job, and ya, its only stocking shelves BUT it’s much less physically demanding than my 1st job. Thank goodness.  Sorry that I’m not being more specific with names and places but it is rather important that anonymity is kept as much as possible, this being The Internet and all.

The pros are you take an active role and update your list of words to keep up with the viagra 25mg baby as the baby moves into the toddler years. Just be patient, relax and wait for the right erectile dysfunction treatment as canada cialis from the situation demands.Your partner’s preferences also might play a role in your treatment choices. This Sildenafil citrate is invented by the British scientist and marketed by the Pfizer of USA based company with the name of Kamagra. viagra doctor An ED treatment not only requires a medical solution, but it also needs many vital things to ensure the prevention of built-up materials which can lead to irritation and cause infections. tadalafil best prices So, because my own family was such a disastrous and ego-maniacal mess, I might just get to create a family of my own with a life elsewhere.  God willing.

Sounds like a plan man!

So here I sit, toiling in utter obscurity, as a lowly dock worker in my home city of Calgary.

I have to say that I have been avoiding writing in my online journal, which has become my only outlet, since I chose my health over a career in Journalism – the field that nearly killed me.  I guess I had so much to say that, I couldn’t gather it all in my head, something I have been dealing with since my nervous break after my choice to steer clear of being a Journalist.

BTW, as I write this post, I am currently listening to Shawn Hook’s A Million Ways.

Because, you see, when one’s mind has been broken, it has this never-ending problem of keeping its concentration on the task at hand, whatever that may be.  It’s a curious thing, dealing with one’s mind when it has suffered such a traumatic experience as breaking in two.  Everything that seemed easy before, somehow has turned into a major undertaking.  I’m forgetting things left, right and centre, as a result.  Even being a lowly dock worker, though the money may be great, has turned into a major undertaking in itself.

Loading and unloading trucks all day has turned into a tremendous source of my own personal solace too.  A kind of way to think about life and to delight in the fact that what I am doing, really isn’t all that important.  I had always downplayed my role in life as a warehouse worker in the Foothills Industrial Park as either a shipper/receiver or general warehouse rat as being completely uninteresting, pathetic, useless and totally irrelevant in the vastness of life’s ultimate purpose.  I suppose it’s something that I really delight in now, because before as a Journalist, the crushing weight of the importance of what I was doing, helping people, writing about their problems in the hopes of solving them in some way, the whole thing became too much for me to handle.  Soooooo many people were depending upon me, that it felt very much like being the father of a family of 16,000 plus! (and that was only the town of Dawson Creek).  And what if I was an actually Journalist in Calgary?!?  A city of 1.25 million?!!?  Egads!

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Perhaps this whole thing with my nervous breakdown has simply amplified my performance anxiety, which I seem to have ALOT of these days.  I guess, all in all, this is all that I can do, or perhaps all that I can be trusted to do well.  Anything more that this and well, Carl might just crack into a million pieces.

There is one thing that gives me a great deal of joy though, despite all this sadness about doing nothing important, is listening to new trance music and dreaming of true love.  Yeah, I do a lot of that.  At heart, I am a romantic.  But not one who, simply jumps into bed whenever he can, although that has happened more than once…  But one who is really searching for true love.  For that special girl who can really satisfy him and fulfill him completely.  I do have a girl in mind, but she is in a far away town and perhaps has forgotten me by now.  We had a special connection, I thought anyways, and I have thought about her, every day, for about a year and a half when I worked with her briefly.  She had raven black hair, lovely hips and a pretty smile.  She also had a certain quality that, I’m sure she would deny, a sort of needy quality, that I found incredibly attractive.  A girl who actually needed a man!  Wow huh?  I keep thinking that we could make quite a team and a special family could be created with her help.

My own family was quite a disappointment, and a killer really, and one’s heart can be broken only so many times before one has to say, yeah, this family is not at all interested in me.

With her help, I could start again and be reborn anew, as it were, but I haven’t the faintest idea of how to accomplish this…

A song came on the radio today that caught my ear, as great tunes usually do on my new-found favourite radio station, AMP Radio in Calgary, that caused me to think about the past few months of my shredded life.

To provide context, here’s the aforementioned tune by Adventure Club, feat. the Kite String Tangle (awesome metaphor), called Wonder, embedded via YouTube below.

The lyrics, “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be standing back on my feet?”, struck me as being not only poetic, but also a virtual snapshot of the state my psyche has been in for, what seems like an eternity, the past 11 months.  My state-of-mind was metaphorically struck by a massive baseball bat and I began to think, what, indeed, would it be like for me now to be back on my feet?  Of course, that begs the clarification that I do feel as if I have been dealt a serious blow to my ambitions in life, as well as everything I wanted to accomplish, via my Journalism diploma.  I had visions of perhaps running my own paper, and while grandiose in the extreme perhaps, the road to such a place would have been a wonderous one indeed.  Far from the plodding my life was before, and a certain re-awakening took place which I thought was there to stay.  But, of course, life has a way of dealing reality in the most harshest of ways and those plans seem to be as far away from me as the most distant of star systems.
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My original plan was, at the beginning, to get this degree in Journalism, and then to go knocking on the doors of some tech magazine and get myself hired so I could start writing my ass off about all things tech and cool.  ‘Twas simple in the beginning for sure.  But somewhere along the way I got too stuck in the idea that I needed real world experience at some newspaper first before anyone would even think about hiring me.  I wouldn’t say that the newspaper reporter experience hasn’t been rewarding, it has far more than I could have imagined!  The people I’ve spoken to at length are those that the everyday person wouldn’t have any access to, like premiers and mayors and other such persons of stature! All in all, I suppose that the whole experience wasn’t totally lost on me, but unfortunately, it was simply a matter of physiology that got me in the end, ergo, if one’s body can’t handle the stress of it all, then one needs to take steps to ensure one’s survival.

Someday, I suppose, I will get back on my feet.  And this writer will, once again, delight his readers, far and wide.

Aaaaaaan there she is. Kat Von D baby. Drink her in.

What is it about these tattoo-laden chicks that gets me a goin’ in all different directions? Most of them sexual directions (pffft!  of course!) but what about the rest of the connotations they leave behind?  That dark-girl quality?  That cry-for-help quality?  That wounded-soul quality?  That exciting-chick quality?  WHAT?!?  I DON’T KNOW!  Buuuut imma gonna found out baby.  Even if it takes a whole month of self-psycho analysis and an internet full of weekend-warrior psycho therapists.  Hey!  You have YOUR information sources, I have mine.

Just lost my shit. For real.

You know, I think I’d better figure this out soon because I may actually cause serious physical harm to someone to gain the attention of one of these fine specimens of feminine sculpted artwork.  But perhaps the reason is much simpler than I may be letting on.

I do believe that the righteous paladin in me wants to come to her rescue because these inked-out pictograph-ical girls scream for a male saviour to come and sweep them off their feet.  And perhaps deeper than that, it may be the constant reminder that these eye-catching, face-punching tats give off are saying that these girls are to be handled with care at all times?  A sort, non-verbal slap in the face that seems to say “hey you!  I’ve had enough shit in my life and these tats are the proof baby so get over here and take my hand in life!  AND BE NICE TO ME!”

OMG stop! Alrighty then! A cold shower it is!

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I knew this girl with a crazy personal style once.  She wasn’t ugly, but not shit-hot either and her hair was blue with a crazy hairstyle.  She had dimples, which made her simply ‘cute’ in my mind but again, no one I would cross the street for.  And, she too, had tattoos in many different places on her person.  Despite the aforementioned non-attraction, I spent a lot of time thinking about her and analyzing the shit out of her, which is something that a Journalist can’t help.

The thing is, she had something in common with many of the girls you see on this post: the, “I will not be ignored” quality.  You see, in every place on her body that she could have looked normal at, she chose to be adverse, whether it be colour or style or even demeanour.  It was this aversion to conformance that certainly appeared to perpetrate desperation, or perhaps, a sort-of last call for the male persuasion – a kind of, “okay guys, this is it.  Take notice or my garden gate is gonna start swinging the other way.”  I mean of course, her final push in the realm of heterosexuality and a real contemplation for lesbianism.  Is that still a word?  Meh, I’m so 80s still.  This is the theory anyways.  And whether or not this stick-my-neck-out-there speculation has ANY basis in theoretical psychology is dubious – at best.  But the signposts certainly seem to point in that direction don’t they?  Or do they?

Please remove your hands young lady. Okay! Thanks!

Now, if you believe in this theory or not it would be nice to hear some other peoples’ thoughts.  Keep it clean and civilized cause hey, if it ain’t I’ll just delete your comments so be nice but be honest as well as intelligent with your answers.

Howdy all.

Yep, I’m back after a VERY long hiatus from a deep and dark place where I seemed to have lost myself. Losing oneself is that which I have heard happen to others but never really experienced and had always scoffed at because of it’s pathetically-sounding nature. It was a gradual process, and one that pretty much slid into my sub-conscious without my actually being aware of it.  I had spent so much time and money building up a persona that I thought was my own, and perhaps it was, but in the end, it scared me to death and it was simply unsustainable.  I had spent that time and money at SAIT studying the art of Journalism.  For a time, it was really nice to be someone and to do something important. I chased a multitude of articles about a multitude of subjects and interviewed hundreds of people, some of them were quite famous.  Those people include Alison Redford, the former premier of Alberta, Barb Higgins, a former journalist herself and front-runner for the mayoralty of Calgary at one point, the mayors of Calgary, Revelstoke, Dawson Creek and Fort St. John, aldermen, ministers of this-and-that, deans, councilmen, professional and educational experts, cancer survivors, grieving mothers, private citizens, students and the list goes on and on.  I even had a couple of great internships at the Calgary Sun and the Revelstoke Times Review.

But, such a thing couldn’t possibly last.

After a time, when I actually tried to get paid for this craft, by getting hired onto the Dawson Creek Daily News as a newspaper reporter, (no I will NOT provide a link) it all came crashing down around me and my psyche simply broke.  In other words, I experienced a nervous breakdown.  I also have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and the Journalist thing amplified its effects a hundred-fold.  It scared the hell ‘n’ Jesus outta me. Setting aside the stress that a Journalist experiences, which is nothing like regular work stress, not by a Texas mile.  I’ve been in stressful situations before, I’ve felt stress so badly that I had a headache for two days straight, such stress where you think you might just die.  But nothing like the stress felt as a Journalist.  THAT kind of stress makes you actually believe with all of your heart that your mind may not make it back from the deep dark hole that it put itself in.  The kind of feeling that makes your mind race in a never-ending circle of terrifying fear and the feeling like you’re on the scariest roller-coaster on Earth and you have absolutely no control.  Mix O.C.D. and that kind of stress together and WHAM!

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Yeah, that kind of stress.  Get it?

For a while, I thought I could manage it.  Of course, it wasn’t long before my body said, “Yeeeeeah dude, we can’t handle this anymore!” and a very real ghost from the ol’ closet reared it’s ugly head again: my heart attack in 2010.  Yep.  The chest pains started appearing regularly because of the pain my mind was going through and I finally came to the conclusion that I had made a terrible career mistake.

So, over the course of a year, my sense of who I was simply gave up and I have been lost in my own little world.  There were times where my confusion would come and go and I could barely function as a human being.  IE, wondering around at a supermarket for an hour when all I came there for was potato chips.  I fuckin’ wandered around there and I didn’t care.  At all.  Experiences like that were compounded by the fact that after I actually managed to find a job back in Calgary, in an industry that I thought was totally behind me (the warehousing sector), I was making mistake after mistake and I got fired from it; something else that was all too familiar to me.  Getting fired didn’t help matters at all (obviously) but I just happened to get hired into a job where the people were just as sadistic as the type of people that I tried so hard to get away from.

And so begins my journey of digging my way out of this mountain of debt and emotional fragility.  I’m gonna need a LOT of beer for this…

by Carl BR Johnson

So the old Herald building is coming down in Calgary to make way for a bigger and better building called the Herald Square – a 56 story building to boot.  This new building will turn out to be Western Canada’s tallest – unseating The Bow from it’s short-lived fame as the current tallest after its completion in a few years.  Because this landmark building is going to be turned into a giant dust cloud, the symbolism is definitely there and the question has been asked a thousand times; is print dead or dying?  More on that a bit later.

The old Herald building on 7th ave and 1st St. SW.

Although The Calgary Herald has found new digs near Deerfoot Trail and Memorial Drive, and has been there for quite some time, many locals including some journalists and writers have reminisced about their old stomping grounds downtown.

Brian Brennan, an ex-Calgary Herald reporter, musician, broadcaster and best selling author of several biography and social history books including The Good Steward: The Ernest C. Manning Story (2008), How the West was Written: The Life and Times of James H. Gray (2006), Romancing the Rockies: Mountaineers, Missionaries, Marilyn & More (2005) and Scoundrels and Scallywags (2002), used to rip through town looking for stories for the Herald and called the downtown Herald building his office a few years ago.

He still calls Calgary home and he has seen the pending destruction of his old office and couldn’t help but get emotional.

“I got a lump in my throat when I saw the marble being stripped off and the building readied for demolition,” he said in an e-mail interview while touring-out-of-country.

Looking west towards the all-covered-up Herald building currently being prepared for destruction to make way for bigger and better things.

“That to me will always be the Herald building.  The “new” building, as we continued to call it even 15 years after we moved in (the Memorial Drive and Deerfoot Trail location), never felt like anything more than temporary quarters. We used to fantasize that one day the bosses would come to their senses and return us to our rightful place downtown.”

Below is a short Qik video; documenting the last time we’ll see this old landmark.

Brennan recalled many fond memories of working downtown at The Herald building where he considered it to be the superior western newspaper.

“I worked in that building for seven years and have many happy memories. We worked hard, played hard, and put out what we considered one of the best newspapers in Western Canada. Most of us regarded it as a “destination” paper, not as a stepping stone to something better somewhere else,” said Brennan.
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Below is another short Qik video showing the back-side of the construction complex of the Herald building.

Despite seeing such an important Journalistic landmark being torn down, the symbolism is there that might remind many Journalism students that they are not getting into an easy industry.

Many students in my 2nd year Journalism class at the Southern Alberta Institute of Technology (SAIT), say that their fear of what lies ahead at the end of April when their final year of this program comes to a conclusion, is a constant distraction.  Stories of The Herald, and now The Calgary Sun, laying off reporters sure doesn’t help them create optimism for the future.  With the destruction of The Herald building downtown, the aforementioned symbolism is now firmly implanted in their minds and has wreaked havoc on the prospects of job searches.

Chris Stedile, a fellow student and good friend of mine, says that he isn’t going to foster the belief that “print is dead”; a rather vulgar term coined by Hollywood to describe the abolition of printed newspaper and magazine media versus online and digital Journalism.

Below is a short YouTube video I shot of Chris and edited with Final Cut Pro.  This is inside the Burns Building at SAIT.

He does admit that eventually, online Journalism will cater to all the iPads and the many other really cool pad-like electronic devices out there.

Brennan weighed in and conceded that, although his livelihood is largely based upon print media, this industry may see a dramatic change in the future.

“I do think print’s days are numbered. When the bosses finally figure out the way to effectively monetize their presence on the Internet, there will no longer be any need to kill trees in order to deliver content to the consumers,” said Brennan.

The future of the Journalism industry will be the one to watch, as its upheaval thanks to the impending takeover of print media by online Journalism will displace many-a-writer. But hopefully, those scribblers will find their place outside of Journalistic pursuits, if that doesn’t pan out for them, like Brennan has.

by Carl BR Johnson

One of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had thus far as a Journalist was covering the victory party/media circus that ensued at the Barley Mill with Joan Crockatt after her election win, in the Nov. 26 Calgary byelection.  Crockatt, as most in Calgary know, was the Conservative winner for Calgary Centre.  Her contenders were, in order of placement in the polls, Harvey Locke – Liberal, Chris Turner – Green Party, Dan Meades – NDP, Antoni Grochowski – Independent, and Tony Prashad – Libertarian.

Joan Crockatt, Conservative MP for Calgary Centre, speaks at her victory bash at the Barley Mill.

This live blog event, set up by our instructors at SAIT, involved myself, Daniel Rodriguez, Thomas DeBrocke, and Ben Morris; by the way, we all enjoyed this experience immensely.  I was at the conservative victory site at the Barley Mill, Daniel was at the Green party headquarters, Thomas was at The Garage with the Liberals, and Ben Morris was at the NDP camp at their HQ.

After Crockatt made her speech, Harvey Locke walked over a whole 100 feet from The Garage where his camp was, also in Eau Claire Market, and made a congratulatory message to her.  I thought it was incredibly unusual that the Conservative victory site was so close to the Liberal victory site – a mere 100 feet away.  And when I asked the media relations person, Richard Clark, at Crockatt’s campaign office why that was, he said to me, “we did not plan it that way.”
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Harvey Locke of the Liberals congratulates Joan Crockatt on her election win of Calgary Centre.

Below is a widget to a Sound Cloud recording, that I recorded with my Sony MP3 digital voice recorder, of Crockatt’s victory speech with Locke’s congratulatory message to her afterwards.  Tom Flanagan, Crockatt’s campaign manager, speaks first in the recording, then Crockatt, then the media asks a few questions, then Locke congratulates her.  Despite her obvious amateurism, I think she’ll do a fine job; and hey, learning starts at the beginning.

The following link here, will point you to the live blog event that our PROJ class at SAIT set up and administrated; this is The Press’ website, our Journalism class’ newspaper.  Because this was such a success, our class and hopefully those three other guys, with whom I had a lot of fun with, we will be looking for any reason, whatsoever, to do another live blog event.

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“These new technologies like ‘fracking’, which will allow the Americans greater self-reliance on natural gas,” she said.

Fracking involves the injection of highly pressurized chemically treated water into deep shale formations at pressures of more than 9,000 PSI to widen existing cracks allowing hydrocarbons, namely natural gas, to flow freely to the surface via pipeline and well-site construction.
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“What will happen is, if Obama pursues this technology, the U.S. will not be as dependent on Alberta’s oil, thus Calgary, a major centre for Alberta’s oil future, will experience a major hit,” said MacLeod.

1CalgaryCentre has been lighting up the social media airwaves in an attempt to create a stronger left-leaning platform versus the mighty conservatives who have ruled Calgary’s centre district since 1968.

Brian F. Singh, co-founder of 1CalgaryCentre, has virtually single-handedly, been taking calls, making calls for the media, and burning up Twitter, Facebook and other social mediums in order to drum up support for his website-based project.

“We wanted to solve the problem of vote-splitting,” said Singh.

“We sat down with many of the riding associations and we wanted to collectively come together and support a single player.”
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Admittedly, Singh said that his first attempt to unite the lefty parties in order to stand up to the conservatives was met with failure; initially.

But with his resolve and the left gaining a larger voice in Calgary, maybe the liberals, NDP or even the Green party will take Singh’s efforts more seriously.