On the Subject of Me

 

I hate MSN "Live" Spaces... just in case you were wondering.  It wasn't always so, we got along well for the first few months, we laughed and cried together, we even toured South America hand in hand.  Then one day, MSN Spaces morphed abruptly into some kind of evil counterpart 'MSN Live Spaces.'   It was like a girlfriend who goes to California for a holiday in order to find herself... and comes back a man.  I couldn't deal with the kind of changes MSN Live Spaces wanted me to accept, a new user unfriendly look, brand new settings, the exclusivity (now, only MSN Live Spaces Members can post comments)  AND, the fact that I didn't have a say in the matter. 

 

So, I'm in the market for a new blog home.  Also, I'm involved in some kind of 'polyblogamy' experiment.   Intrigued?  Check out the site at:

 

Thus concludes the adventures of Dr. Otis Guelpe... at this site anyway.

I may write one more post here to announce my new blog home, but other than that

Adios.

Dr. O.

 

Why is it that I can have these fantastic entries in my head all day but when I actually sit down to write them I find that I've lost the capacity to communicate in English?

My parents went up north for the weekend. This means my older brothers and I are holding down the fort until they get back. When we were younger that would have meant calling friends and having a few celebratory cocktails, now it means ordering pizza (because there's no one around to cook supper) and falling asleep at 10:00 pm while watching re-runs of 'Full House.'

When did this happen?

Realistically, the people I normally would have called have houses, girlfriends, some wives, kids even.

I sleep in my parents walk-in closet.

So... when did this happen? I guess thats the weird part about moving home for a couple weeks; the last time I spent any reasonable amount of time here during the autumn we were all in high school. A lot can happen in six years I suppose. Why don't I feel like its happened to me?

Is it because I don't have a job, house, wife, kids? Is that what defines growing up?

Well, that should be enough deep thinking for the next 3-5 years.

Dr. O.

 

Surprise! I took the month of August off... and half of September!!

Ha... haa (sheepish laugh)

It's what they call in the blogging business a “hiatus,” or, what my mother calls, “laziness.”

Its also a good way to lose the majority of your readership. However, if just one person happens to stumble upon this page accidentally, I'll have half my readership back, so I'm not too worried.

I blame everything on my canceled flight from Bolivia. Yeah, true story. Due to Hurricane Ernesto, no planes were flying or landing through Miami on August 30^th, the day I was supposed to come home. Instead, I had to race to a small coastal pueblo in Peru called Lima, and fly home from there on September 3^rd. So, even though I was technically only 4 days off schedule, I now have an excuse for everything wrong in my life.

So, when my mom asks me in 4 months time why I haven't found a job and I'm still living at home, I can say, “Remember Hurricane Ernesto mom?? Well, its really thrown me off track...”

That's the other surprise, I'm home!! And by home, I actually mean living at my parents house in good ol' Hagersville baby. I figure its the perfect graduation present from me to my parents; to sleep on the floor of their walk in closet for the next few months while I try and figure my life out. Now every morning I can recommend different outfits and help them get dressed from the comfort of my own make-shift bed. Though, somehow I don't think they appreciate the present as much... but its the thought that counts, right?

Well, I don't want to give away too much good news all in one post...

I'm turning into a dirty old man way too quickly.

Sincerely,

Dr. O.

 

Bolivia – Tres Cruces

 

These are photos of my pad in Tres Cruces.  I think at one point it used to be a classroom judging by the numbers and vowels taped to the wall.  Afterwards it was some kind of animal feed storage facility; the ground was littered with food pellets when we arrived, (which were delicious). 

Once it was cleaned, we put a straw mattress on the ground… added a table and two chairs, and “voila” our very own one room think tank, (we had a lot of time to think in Tres Cruces).  It reminded me of those interrogation rooms you see in the movies, it even had the one bulb light hanging from the ceiling.  Sometimes at night when I was bored I would tie Maryam (my project partner) to the chair and ask her, “Where did you put the money?”  “Where are the others?” or “Don´t you play games with me!”  Then I would splash a bucket of cold water on her until she cried.   I don’t think she liked this game.

Though we didn’t have any running water, toilet, cooking facilities… we did have a satellite dish in the backyard.  The people of Tres Cruces definitely have their priorities in order.

 

Other random photos:

-A compost I built

-Our bathroom (the one that looks like a shed)

-The reading wall

 

Circo Infantil II

 

“Circo Infantil” or “This children’s Circus.”  It’s a place where underprivileged kids can hang out and learn how to make bread, weave, bow hunt, track dinosaurs, kill dragons… all the important things. It’s also where my team sends me for the day while they did big people projects.  

Here I am able to assert my dominance, and it also gives me a chance to practice my interrogation techniques.  I find it’s easier to get answers if you use blindfolds.

 

The rest of this entry will have to wait for now.... but enjoy the picture of me with my shirt off.

The Dr.

 

 

I remember dancing at “Mitos”… and it was magical.

 

Afterwards we went down to the chip wagon at the end of the street, for a delicious egg sandwich con papas fritas.

 

It was there that we encountered a group of five or so guys just “hangin´ out.”  I didn’t take as much notice of them, as they did of us… and so I was a little surprised when Beth walked up to us and quite casually said, “That guy just stole my cell phone...” as if she was reporting the weather or telling me of her uneventful day.

 

Looking over her shoulder I could see some guy bookin´ it down the street.  Maybe it’s that instinct that dogs have, they see something moving and so feel the need to chase it, that made me run after him.  I didn’t really think about it, I just remember passing the girls ahead of me and had this tingly excited/nervous feeling as I rounded a corner and saw that I was gaining on him.

 

Part of my brain, the pragmatic part, kept asking “What do you plan on doing when you catch him Mike?”  Then there was that other voice, the one coming from the “unrealistic department” the same voice that seems to dominate my internal dialogue so much of the time, that said, “Why don’t you just keep running and figure that stuff out later.”

 

Unfortunately for our thieving friend, I happened to be a member of the Walpole North Wildcats track team in grade 7, the same year I beat Greg Slaght in the 100 meter dash… even when the rest of the class said he would win all the running events.

 

He must have heard my footsteps gaining on him because he suddenly slowed a bit and turned his head around, perhaps in an attempt to explain… “Sorry, I didn’t realize that phone in your friend’s back pocket was hers.”

 

I realized in this moment that the “unrealistic department” was making decisions again.

 

Here were my options:

 

A) A Mid Air Drop Kick.  Though it never worked on my brothers when I tried it from the couch, it had the potential to really impress the girls who were still running not far behind.  “Did you see that?  Mike just drop-kicked that guy in the face!”   However, it also had the potential to backfire like all those times before… then what would I say?  “Mike what were you doing?  You were so close, how could you let him get away?”

 

Or,

 

B) Just your standard punch in the face.

 

In the 0.004583 seconds that I had to make a decision, I realized that Plan A, (though potentially very impressive), was probably too risky, and so I went with Plan B.

 

Before the pragmatic part of my brain could assess the situation properly, my fist was connecting with his mouth.  As he stumbled backward a bit I thought I heard, “One Three Punch Combo Please,” come from the front counter loudspeaker of my “unrealistic department.”

Not wanting to keep a customer waiting, I hurriedly got to work in my metaphorical kitchen, grabbed his shirt, and began filling in the order.  After a few punches, I noticed a black object hit the pavement from the corner of my eye… as my head instinctively turned to see what was going on over yonder, (I get distracted easily) he caught me nicely on the jaw with a solid right.  At this point, I let go of his shirt and he took off again.

 

Just then the girls caught up with me.  If there was ever a time I wanted to smoke, this would have been it.  I would grab the phone from the ground, hand it back to Beth, “There you go Miss,” then light up… perhaps flip my collar up and just stroll casually down the alley with my hands tucked in my jacket.

 

Yeah.

 

Mikethemidnightcowboy