On owning a lightsaber.

 I am the very proud owner of a new,  primordial lightsaber. First-time owner, it's a one-handed, dagger-like affair that runs off butane. No Kyber crystal vision quest in my future, unfortunately. But it was a fantastic Father's Day nonetheless. 

But even owning this affordable Amazon novelty torch makes me realize how powerful and dangerous a real lightsaber is. 

Trying to be a showoff and light a joint with it, I quickly discovered that a beaked or brimmed hat is a limiting factor. I still don't understand how Obi-Wan can hold his next to his face without losing his beard. I don't know how it survived Mustafar - but let's stay on topic. 

You need to be careful where you point it. 

I wonder about the weight of a lightsaber. Does the blade weigh anything? I've seen discussion online and I join the side that says they must have weight and balance like a stick or sword because otherwise you could just flail it about and shred everything. Plus they seem to put effort into using the tool. 

I've seen theories that lightsabers have sharp or cutting areas and blunt areas. Hence Obi Wan's bouncy sabre in Kenobi. Not mine. If you get close enough, this thing will fuck you up equally from all directions. I think I'd rather have one than a knife in a street fight. 

The torch doesn't have an end-weight, it truly is just a handle, but the jet flame does give you a slight push. I feel like new lightsaber users always have a similar kickback reaction to the weapon igniting. 

I don't know how a Jedi puts a lightsaber back on their belt immediately after use without branding their thigh. We're taking several powers of magnitude hotter than what I got - I'm not cutting through any steel blast doors this weekend. I need to leave mine sitting out for a few minutes before it's cool enough to put away. Even a gunslinger blows on his barrel first. It's best mine didn't come with a belt clip. 

All this to say, no matter how much I beg you, never let me even hold a real lightsaber. I feel like there was a mistake made already that will result in a visit from the fire department or to the burn unit. Maybe both. 

For now, I must be content with a convenient pizza oven lighter, campfire obliterator and a debilitating paranoia about its misuse. 

May the Force be with you. 

Why does LGBTQ2S+ Pride matter to me?

This past Saturday was one of my favourite days of the year, the annual Pride parade here in Regina. I've walked in the parade with a few different organizations for about a decade and I always find it to be a day of joy, love and a bit of "sticking it to the 'phobes."

This year was extra important to many of us in attendance due to recent transphobic policies enacted by the Sask Party government. Pride parades have really become a celebration of sexual and gender diversity, but they have their roots in protest and this year, I was happy that the committee remembered that history. 

I work as a social media manager for a provincial Crown corporation so every year I see the hate and intolerance that so many people have for the LGBTQ2S+ community. I can only speak for myself to say that most people just want to be left alone to live their lives and the fact that there is a very vocal group in this world that can't tolerate that is disgusting to me. 

And that's why I march. That's why I continue to defend the community online through my work. And it's why, over 50 years after the first Pride parade, we're still protesting. 

In my younger, naive days, I thought that the solution to most kinds of intolerance was to just ignore the differences and focus on how we are the same. Certainly, there's value in finding common ground, I think it can help to humanize each other through ignorance. But as Leonard Cohen once noted, variety is the spice box of life. I see my world as more interesting, more nuanced and much more fun because I have gay and transgender friends. And that extends to all the ways we're different. I learn so much from other cultures, gain insights from how others are different and so often, I see how my approach to the world can harm others. 

Sometimes I feel sorry for the willfully and ignorantly intolerant. They've chosen a path that is angry and stressful. Not only does their behaviour hurt the people they target, it hurts themselves. They are turning away from a new friend, a new insight or a fascinating new experience. 

I think the worst part about this subject is summed up in how I can't sum up this post. There was a time that I thought that the screams of intolerance and hate we were hearing were the last gasps of a misguided past. But it seems of late that the voices are getting louder and the progress we were making is starting to walk backwards. As much as I'd like to sit back one year, maybe enjoy the Pride parade from the sidelines, or just ignore the stupidity online, it's as important today as it was in 1970 to stand up for what's right, embrace our differences and redouble our efforts to fight the good fight.

Happy Pride everyone, I love ya for who you ARE! 💜💙💚💛🧡

Punk Rock Pizza

The COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns were a strange thing. 

Some people got smokers. Some people knitted. Some people - made sourdough. 

To be sure, sourdough had long been an interest but with every previous attempt, I'd get busy, go somewhere, forget about it and - mould city. It never got anywhere, but now I wasn't going anywhere and I had some time to kill and wanted to connect with the kids. 

Sourdough is nothing more than smelly living slime, which means it was perfect for slime connoisseur, Kayah. We named our first starter Bobette and embarked on some experimentation. One Friday night, we made pizza dough with the starter discard. We hung out in the kitchen, making pizzas while I bombarded Kayah with some of punk rock's historical highlights. It was a great night of company, food and music. 

I'm always looking for a reason to alliterate and in a quick trade with Rhonda, we quickly found Pilon Punk Rock Pizza Party. A reason to eat good pizza and listen to music. 

We've repeated it semi-regularly ever since. Sure, we made a few sourdough loaves and delivered them to family and co-workers. But that pizza dough has persisted. We've been through Bobbette 1-23 but we still make up fresh batches of dough as much as possible. 

Last summer I bought a small portable wood pellet oven. It's easy to use and fun but I can't say what I'd do for a brick pizza oven in my backyard! 

Retirement goals I guess.

This past Christmas, I embarked on a very optimistic project of making a ball of sourdough pizza dough accompanied by a hand-cut punk 'zine and sticker by Rhonda (and an AI but I won't tell!) as a gift for all my friends and family. I think I made about 20 Punk Rock Pizza Parties in all. It was well received, but I think the execution lacked a bit and I don't think I'd do the same kind of project again. Or I'd at least use a stand mixer.

I ponder what I'd like to do next with it. I started a Redbubble store a few months ago with the thought that I might find some kind of merchandise angle, but it's just not quite what I have in mind yet. 

Only time will tell. Until then, if I can ever pop by your place with my oven, I provide the dough, and you provide the toppings. Let's listen to some punk music and have a slice - or twelve.

ibUILTakEYBOARD

 Grreatnews,igotmykeyboardtogether.Badnews,thespacebarandtheenterkeydontwork.#

Welltheenterkindaworkssometimes.Butit'sloose.##

IneedtogodosomemoreworkIguess.

Buildin' a keyboard

A few months ago, Rhonda and I were “antiquing” as old fogies like us are wont to do. In a dark back corner of one antique shop, we came across some shelves of mechanical typewriters. I cheekily commented that since I now work as a writer, I should probably have one on a shelf that I never use. It took three keystrokes for me to tangle the arms on one and I quickly remembered that using a pen is better than an old typewriter and I had no use whatsoever for such a machine. 

 I did realize that I could really use a nice keyboard for typing at work and thus I went down the endless rabbit hole that is mechanical keyboards. For the uninitiated, building custom mechanical keyboards is all the rage right now, and you can customize everything from the feel of the switches to the keycaps to the cable – have I mentioned soldering LEDs yet. You get the picture. 

The result is about 8 weeks of waiting patiently for parts and tools to arrive from all four corners of China (and one thing from Vancouver). Turns out that was the easy part. The last parts came in the mail yesterday so I sat down at the kitchen table to start in earnest. 

And learned why not everyone does this. 

My fingers hurt from pushing in sharp switches and stabilizers and I nearly went mad when I realized I had to pull every switch because I needed to put the stabilizers in first. It’s been a real journey. So all that to say, hopefully, someday, I will write this blog from a nice thocky, fancy keyboard. 

But not today. Today, it’s my worn-out Dell work keyboard with all the letters rubbed off.