Halloween-ie!

Oh Halloween! How much do I love thee? So many fun memories from so many fun, amazing nights!

2007 - Indiana Jones
This was our first year at Chris' annual Halloween party. We had so much fun! It's so hard to believe, but I barely knew this amazing group of people!

Looking for adventure!

Me and my new friend (and her girls).

Our group of ruffians (Vicky Pollard, Pirate Wench, Army Guy, and Indiana).

2008 - Mormons

Kind of a lame-o costume year, but we managed. Thus began a theme of going in a group for costumes, even if this group was 2. 

Can we tell you about this new religion type thing?

She was the 'it' girl at the party in 2008...

Take me home!

2009 - Stray Cats (or The Cats Who Couldn't Make it on Cats)
This was by far one of the best Halloweens EVER! The makeup was a blast to wear, I got to channel my best Tom Brady, and I got into a fight with a tree (it won). 

Tom Cat, Hello Kitty, Liza Meowie, Snagglepuss.

Kisses, or purrs?

Getting closer to that fight with the tree.

2010 - French Courtiers
First rented costume...we were either obnoxious or amazing (depending on what mood you were in). Note how Phil is our older brother...

Oh mon dieux!

Au chante

Bisous!

2011 - STAY TUNED! It's going to be amazing!

Thankful

With one of my favourite holidays - Thanksgiving - fast approaching, I've been thinking over the past few days of what I'm thankful for. While I could go on and on about all the things I'm truly thankful for, I'll leave it at a few.

I'm thankful for Kyle. He makes me laugh every day. He makes me smile. He makes me happy.

I'm thankful for my parents. They make me want to try harder.

 

I'm thankful for my brother and sister-in-law. They make me feel blessed to have such great siblings.

I'm thankful for my close group of friends. They make me realize how important it is to have people you love take part in the rich experiences of life.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

I'm thankful for my job. I get to go to work each day and create things I can be proud of. I also get to meet some very interesting and entertaining people!

 

I'm thankful for many other things. I could go on.

Basically, I'm thankful that I'm so lucky.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Back to school!

If you're too school for cool... Kyle's least favourite line from Pink's awful song, "raise your glass" or whatever it's called always makes me shudder. Then, I think about school.

I've been thinking a lot about back to school this past week.

I used to loathe/love the last day of summer. No more suntanning, cards, tubing, wakeboarding, mischief. Time to wear the new clothes and crack open the new note books and pens. It was over and beginning all at once.

Side note: does anyone else remember wearing the new jeans and shirt to school only to realize that it was still 30 degrees out and sweat stinks...a lot?

Tomorrow is the first day. The first day back. The first day of the last year of their education. The firsts could go on and on.

For me, it's just another day now...

But, all this baby talk and raising a family talk has got me excited again for the inevitable (I hope, we hope) first day of ... kindergarten, school, elementary school, middle school (I shudder at that thought), high school, and post-secondary school.

I can't wait to walk our son/daughter to school on their first day. I can only imagine how much fun it was for my parents to do that with me. I remember being excited, but I don't know if I actually was...maybe I want to remember being excited and I was in fact, terrified. Regardless, I still remember being walked to school...being shown the way.

I hope that, this time, I'll be excited for them, even though I'm sure I'll be terrified! I can't wait to show them the way, as best as I can.

I can't wait for their first day of school, whenever it is.

I'll be the proudest dad on the block. Well, we'll be the proudest dads on the block.

Goodbye Jack

When I was home sick on Monday with a migraine and stomach pain (related?), I didn't wake up until around 11.

I came downstairs, interrupted Kyle who was watching Game of Thrones at his PC on his day off, and sat down at my computer.

I double-clicked on the little Gmail notification -- as usual there was a sale and A&F and something about 20% off 'redlines' from Hollister. Why I signed up for emails like this, I'll never know?

From there, I hit the tab for Towleroad (to see the latest in gay news), Tap That Guy (to see the latest in boys), Facebook (to see the latest in my social cirles), Vibrant Victoria (to see if people had talked about construction in Victoria), and the CBC (to actually read some good ol' fashioned NEWS!).

Seeing as how the CBC was the last tab I opened, it was the first one I saw.

"Jack Layton dead at 61" was screaming at me from the BREAKING NEWS box on their main page.

"Jack LAYTON DIED?!?," I yelled.

"What?!? Are you serious?," replied Kyle.

Silence.

I couldn't answer. Or, I didn't know how.

My mum has spent a lot of time telling me what it was like when she met Pierre Trudeau. She still gushes about him to this day.

In short, Jack was my Pierre.

Well, as close to a 'Pierre' as any politican can be in this 24/7 news cycle, Facebook, Twitter, you-name-it environment we live in now.

Here's why: I met Jack, twice.

The first time I met him I went, by myself, to an NDP rally at the Alix Goolden Hall in 2004 (I think. Maybe 2006?). It was a rally for all the local candidates for the federal election and I really didn't know if I was ready to drink the NDP's orange kool-aid.

The local people were fine; nothing special. But, Jack was something different. Something new.

A fighter. A politician. Slick. Engaging.

I voted Liberal.

The second time I met him was a few years ago on the street here in Victoria. He was actually between meetings (or something) and I ran into him. I recognized who he was. In fact, most other people around him did too.

I said, "hey! Welcome back," clearly not realizing he wouldn't remember me from a crowd of people five years ago.

Jack said, "thanks. I love it here. Feels great to be in such a nice city."

That was it. Nothing special. Nothing really worth noting.

Over the years, I'd come to see what other friends, like my good friend Ian, saw in him.

Jack Layton was honest. Sure, he was a shrewd politician. But, you believed him. You wanted to share his passion for a country you could be proud of.

Maybe not everyone I know appreciated his socialist leanings or his way of doing things. But, you couldn't argue with what he wanted to achieve: a Canada that cared for seniors, children, and for its environment.

For me personally, Jack was someone I looked up to, trusted, and wanted to have as my voice in government.

He was my Pierre, and I will miss him greatly.

Happy Pride

This past weekend we celebrated Victoria Pride. It's always a lot of fun getting together with our friends and our community to celebrate what makes us special and (oh heck) FABULOUS!

We started the weekend with a selection of gin and tonics at a BBQ with great friends, followed by a drag show and dancing at Paparazzi; we finished up with the pride parade and festival.

One of my favourite parts of the parade isn't the floats or the ridiculous costumes, it's the walk from the parade to the festival. It feels more like a march, not in defiance, but in true celebration.

The last float is always from a nightclub and it's playing the stereotypical (and awesome!) music you'd expect to hear at this type of thing. Everyone is happy, waving to friends, and secretly pointing to others and saying, "I KNEW he was gay," or, "I didn't know they had a kid AND a dog!" There is something empowering about walking with this group of people.

In fact, I always choke up a bit around the halfway mark. It's humbling to me.

This is what I see when I look ahead, behind, and around me:

Thousands of Victorians of all shapes and sizes, ranging from happy young singles to happy (wiser?) married couples with their kids and dogs in tow. It doesn't matter if they're gay or straight, married or not; what matters is that they are there for a good time AND to celebrate that, yes, some of us are different.

It's always fun and it reminds me that it's not just okay to be gay, but it's actually a tonne of fun being out and PROUD. I'm lucky to live in a community that, for the most part, celebrates its diversity. I have a group of friends, family, and co-workers that not only accept, but embrace that I'm gay.

So, happy pride to all of you!

You look FABULOUS!

My Goodbye to Canada's Mum

When I read the news (on Facebook, where most news is gathered now) that Betty Fox was in hospice, I cried. Canada's mum was dying. It seemed so unfair.

When I read the news that she had passed away, I cried. A lot.

Terry, the foundation named after him, his family, and especially his mother, have a very special place in my heart.

I've never really been able to put into words my intense feelings for Terry Fox and the Terry Fox Foundation. I was only a baby when Terry died. I didn't learn about him until I was around 10 years old. I didn't really pay much attention until I was in university.

But, for some reason I started to study Terry. I've spent countless hours learning about Terry's life. I own books, memorabilia, coins, and shoes. I've watched made for TV movies, news broadcasts, and documentaries. I've even downloaded a Rod Stewart song. All because it was associated with Terry.

Maybe this is why I care so much:

Every day, for 142 days, Terry ran the equivalent of a marathon.

He ran 5,373 kilometres.

On one leg.

Or maybe this:

Terry changed how most Canadians looked at cancer. Apparently, when he started his run, most people referred to cancer as, "the Big C." No one wanted to call it what it was out loud for fear of getting it, or passing it on. When Terry was forced to end his run in Thunder Bay because his cancer came back, Canadians started to give. By then, people were calling cancer what it was...out loud. People weren't afraid. They were motivated. Something needed to be done. Money needed to be raised. Hurting needed to stop.

Or this?

To date, the Terry Fox Foundation has raised over $550 million for cancer research.

No. It's this:

I met Betty once, when she was in town to celebrate the unveiling of the statue at Mile 0. I had her attention, just me and her, for about 3 minutes. She was in the Palm Court at The Fairmont Empress, waiting for the introduction to the Crystal Ballroom where she was going to be honoured by Victoria and its citizens.

The first thing that happened was that I shook her hand. Then I teared up. Then I said how glad I was that I was able to meet her and how much her commitment and Terry's run had impacted how I lived my life.

Betty told me that she was thankful for the kind words and that, "today has been an incredibly tough day for me. But, with young people caring as much as you do, I know that what I'm doing is worth it."

Rest in Peace, Betty. You're with Terry now.

It's our turn to keep running.

oprah@oprah.com

Today was the day to say goodbye. I won't write much here.

I was a fan, not an ultimate viewer. I made a conscious effort to watch most of Season 25. I grew to truly appreciate her as part of my week; my day. Prior to this year, I watched it off and on.

I have a lot of respect for her. Blending the woman with the brand, Oprah is second to none.

I'm sure she's not perfect. In fact, I know it.

But, she has given a lot of herself.

She has inspired me over this past year to become more comfortable with myself, my life, my position, and my beliefs.

She's part of the reason why I started this blog.

Today, I posted this quote on my Facebook page and on Twitter:

"I hold true to the belief that everyone has a story to tell, and from every individual's experience there is something we can all learn."

Farewell Oprah.

What should I say? OR What do you want to be when you grow up?

What should I write?

That's a problem I've been having for about a week now. I spent all this time making my blog look like I wanted it to - I think I achieved that - but not much time narrowing down what I wanted to write about.

A co-worker told me to, "think about where you want to be in five years and make sure that what you write about now is something you want people to see then, not now."

That was a good point, but it also made me think. What do I want to be when I grow up? Or, better yet, what did I want to be when I grew up? Now that I'm 30, I kind of feel like I have grown up.

I'm happily married to the love of my life. We own a condo (i.e. mortgage), have fabulously great friends and family, and I work at what I feel is my 'dream job'.

I've spent such a long time trying to think about what I wanted to be when I grew up that I kind of grew up without noticing.

Now, that doesn't mean I'm 100% mature, close to death (I hope!), or have achieved everything I had planned. But, it does mean that for the first time in a long time, I'm happy. I'm happy and proud of who I am and who I have become.

As my dad said when I came out to him (he's a man of few, but very meaningful words), "are you happy? Because as long as you are happy, I'll be happy. That's all I will ever care about because I love you and I want you to be happy."

Guess what, dad!? I'm happy, and I like this feeling.