Seminary: Post the First

Well, I've really delayed this a lot longer than I ought to have, informing the world of what life is like up here in Seminary... but the fact of the matter is that I was settling in for those first few days after Sunday, and I'm now only just back in Seminary from a silent retreat, wherein we Seminarians (and our priests) were away in a non-Internet-for-me building, since Tuesday night, being as quiet as possible (well, some of us; others were merely being quiet), and keeping generally to as holy and prayful thoughts as we might, interspersed with meals, and the Liturgy of the Hours (Lauds and Vespers), Mass, and talks from Bishop Albert LeGatt of Saskatoon. All in all, a very awesome time, and very resting...

So far, seminary has been fairly laid back. We're on a schedule, with Prayers and Mass, and meals, and whatnot, but classes don't start till Tuesday, for the Theology Students, and not until next week for us lowly Philosophy students. It's a bit interesting for me being at the bottom of the seminary bucket. Not so much in terms of social standing, but in terms of years to go until ordination. This puts me in a bit more humble a spot, ecclessiastically, than I have been accustomed to over the past few years. Back in Olds, I was pretty much Parishioner #2 in many respects, because I was always around (go homeschooling) and because I was young, bright, and interested. It's very good for me, I'm sure, to be among others of my own kind, and so learn to not be at the top of the heap at all times. Not that I'm really complaining. Coming to the Seminary is like joining the 'Downs, a sort of "Yes! There are others like me! And now I'm on of them!" sort of moment.

Anyway, a "Hello" and "Hi out there" to all the people who think I'm possibly dead. Life is great, and it's my hope to try and update this blog at least weekly. Internet access isn't a problem (contrary to my more doomier predictions), but they'll be working us, so I'm not going to be the ever-present bum I was in the old days.

That is the way of the Bionicle

And what is a Bionicle, you ask...

Well, since pretty much all of you- though not QUITE all of you- are from either my "real" life or my Barrow-Downs life, you should not have a clue what on earth I am talking about Bionicles for. If you know what they are, you'll know that they a line of LEGO products, pretty much action-figure in their style and intent, with a pretty large backstory to them. They're five years old now, and showing no signs of flagging. And they're geared at 8-12 year olds.

And I'm 19.

And as any Classic-Castler worth his old grey (injoke... sorry un-LEGOers) knows, Bionicle is generally not considered cool in an AFOL (Adult Fan of LEGO). AFOLs are supposed to be into Castles, Spaceships, Trains, or some eclectic little old theme like Rockraiders. Bionicle, simply put is meant for the youngin's, and the "Bioniclization" of the minifig themes of toys is a matter for great bemoaning by the AFOL community.

However, I must confess that I'm in a rather Bionicle mood at the moment. I can't claim to have ever made a Bionicle creation of my own, and I deplore the Bioniclization of the non-Bionicle themes... but Bionicles have a certain charm, and I have to admit to enjoying the world that the creators of Bionicle made. I'm a sucker for well-made worlds/universes, Middle-Earth having set the bar for me, and whetted my appetite beyond relief.

Finally, Bionicles are simply fun to play with.

Once there was a time when I dreaded growing up, for fear that I wouldn't be able to play with my LEGO anymore. That fear (dare I say alas?) is long gone. It's clear now that I'm never going to outgrow. If anything, the fear now is that I'll be too arthritic or something to play with them...

Meanwhile, I need to get my hands on a Toa Norik... and a McDonald's special Jala. Yes, those of you who know what I mean, I'm the red-collector in our house. With six siblings into Bionicles and six colours, a certain division of the collecting was BOUND to happen...

Interesting...

Very interesting...

And what is so interesting, you ask?

Well, tonight I discovered something about myself: I don't really have a desire to be a cowboy.

Now, the obvious reply to this is "Michael, you want to be a priest. You can't ride. You're an indoorsy type. Why on earth would you want to be a cowboy anyway?"

Well the answer to that is that I am, and always have been, rather the dress-up sort, or the fictional world loving sort. Even today, give me a toy sword and a place to swing where there's no one I'd have to explain why I was swinging to, and well... I'd probably start swinging. Those orks wouldn't know what hit them.

There are three big things, I'd say, that North American boys are stereotypically considered to play at being: Knights (or various sword-wielding alternative Castle-y types), Astronauts, and Cowboys. Now, to any of my fellow Classic-Castlers, or my fellow 'Downers, the fact that I would enjoy playing at being a knight should come as no surprise. It might rather shock them to know that I'd willingly imagine myself as an astronaut, but no more so than that I would be a pirate, or a policeman, or well... a whole lot of stuff.

But a cowboy? Tonight I discovered what I hadn't articulated before, but which was certainly there: I don't care to be a cowboy.

Which is not to say I have anything against cowboys. I have friends who ARE cowboys. And I will willingly watch a good John Wayne movie, no problem there. And one cannot blame it on an not-wanting-to-be-taken-for-an-American complex (which would be a plausible theory, otherwise, seeing how I'm rather pro-Canadian, and British-over-American in my leanings), since the astronaut image is still plausible, and astronauts are more American than cowboys. Cowboys, after all, are perfectly indigenous to this part of Canada.

But no... I just have no desire to ever be in cowboy garb. Indian garb (the p.c. term is "Native", but the context should make it clear what kind of Indians I mean) is far preferable, though I am 100% European in ancestry (least within the past five centuries or so, anyway... before that you might get some Asians and whatnot).

Now, the curious thing, to me, about all this is that I don't know WHY I have this cowboy-is-not-for-me thing. Unless I'm just getting a plain old glimpse into my own aesthetic sense, then I am completely clueless.

Another thing I noted about myself tonight was that I dislike the smell of mingled cigarette and alcohol... but I don't think that so interesting a realization. More of an articulation, and just that.

My New Toy

I am now the rather proud possessor of a 1995 pewter-coloured (well, that's what it says on the Bill of Sale) Ford Contour GL. It's in really nice condition, with new tires and the engine inspected and tuned up. Whilst dodging many large raindrops yesterday I picked up the car, paid for the car, insured the car, delivered papers of inspection and bank release to the insurance people for the purposes of keeping the car insured, and then licenced the car. An expensive day, to be sure, but a good five hundred dollars or more than I was expecting/willing to pay, so not too bad a deal there. And the car is a nice one.

So between final seminary acceptance, and now having my ride, I'm almost 100% ready to go. Not quite 100%, since my room isn't QUITE cleaned out, and I have a few things in the manner of diabetic supplies and whatnot to purchase before I take off, but for the most part I'm ready to go. And I still have a whole week left in Olds. A week to relax, have fun, enjoy the sunshine... and after yesterday's rain, I'll definitely be doing that last. I haven't seen rain like that since the day Sundre flooded out and onto the national news last year. But this doesn't come after a week of rain, as that did, so we seem to be fine. But that sun DOES feel nice!

So... I'm NOT flying anywhere...

Yes, that's right. The trip to Massachusetts is off. No more going to visit other Barrow-Downers. Rather disappointing, that. Also disappointing is that "no trip to a LEGO store, now" bit. Call me addict (I probably am...) but I was looking forward to that.

Oh well, I got most of my money back in airline credit (for which I'm already developing sneaky plans which I shall not reveal here... Mwahahaaha!). I now have a very much needed extra week in Olds, during which I shall get to go to the Fair, have a proper farewell to the parish, try out my new car (I get it Friday! I'm very excited), pack my room, and purloin... I mean, buy... items that I'll need at the Seminary. It may be rather callous of me to say it, but I'm rather excited and glad about not going. Not that I didn't WANT to go, but in a fit of nice optimism, I'm very eager/willing to take advantage of this extra time.

And no, I'm not going to detail the WHY of why I'm not going. Mainly because it's rather silly, slightly confusing, and rather pointless. What business of YOURS is it, anyway? :P

Basking in the Glow of My Sunburn

Sunburns, of course, being as natural for a post-Bones Tournament atmosphere as bubblegum is to baseball players.

We had beautiful weather Thursday, going down, and all day Friday (during which time I went to morning Mass, out for breakfast, and actually did some writing on a fictional work, of all the improbable things), right up until suppertime, when it started to wind and rain. It did that on and off through Registration and into the night, but I remember that more as a good time than as a bad, seeing as it drove me to take shelter (our trailor being full of little siblings) under the awning of my First Cousins Once Removed (Mom's first cousins) and their families (the kids being my Second Cousins). A good evening.

Saturday, the first day of the tournament, we had good weather- nice and sunny. Sunny enough that I sunburned. But if the sun went behind the clouds it was chilly! The wind was nasty, and coming perpendicular to the throwing directions of the games, it made for interesting playing.

My team: Dad, Daniel, Angela, and myself, started off the day with a good winning streak: three wins in a row, before a VERY narrow loss in the fourth game. It's a pity we lost, since we would have qualified for the "playoffs", something Dad hasn't done in 5 years, and something us kids have never done. Anyway, we lost that game, and then the one following. Game 5 was brutal. We got one guard down. One. Worst game I've ever played. We couldn't even hit the penalties. That pretty much wiped us out. We lost Game 6, but by a far more respectable margin. Done for the day, we went back to the campsite for supper, then into Macklin proper for Evening Mass- always my favourite part of the weekend, and not just because the church is now air-conditioned.

It was about this time that I discovered my sunburn, all over my face and neck. I took great cares all through Sunday to keep from burning further, and I seem to have succeeded, but it was too late to do anything about the burns I already had other than lather them in lotion.

Sunday we lost, won, lost, won, lost, getting chucked right out of the 4th Consolation Event by late afternoon, with nary a prize. Still, our overall won/loss record was better than last year- we ended up playing more games, I'm fairly sure. And, as a consolation prize, the 3rd Place Champions (and this out of 320 teams) were family friends- their mom and my mom having been neighbours, classmates, and best friends way back yonder... This was also the first year we ever stayed to watch the finals. A lot more fancy and eventful than I had imagined.

We stayed the night at the campground, and headed back to Olds Monday morning, detouring through Daysland to see Grandma. It was a long, long drive coming home, or felt like it. Time seems to pass a lot slower when travelling the back highways than it does taking Highway 2 (or the Queen Elizabeth II Highway, as we are now supposed to call it). But, Monday being the Long Weekend, it would have been a nightmare on that highway, not to mention slower than mud going through Camrose, which was unloading the Big Valley Jamboree right about then.

So I'm home. And with three days left ere I leave for Massachusetts, I still have what feels like a tonne of stuff to do: get a car (that's a biggie), sort out stuff from the accident (details, details), finish packing out my room (what a mess!), get the KofC treasurer's stuff to my successor (a month late), and be ready to leave the day after I get back.

Fun times!

And do I feel on top of the world! Picking up Angela from Our Lady of Victory Camp on Thursday, Fr. Paul told me that the Archbishop wrote my letter of acceptance! I'm in the seminary for sure, for sure! I'm very pumped. If only I had more time to spread the word before I take off...

A Boning We Shall Go...

Okay, so my hand seems to have regained the ability to type unimpaired- just in time for me to have caught a major strain of outdoor-itis. So, though I COULD be online again, doing stuff like RPGing, or WW, or Whatnot... I don't want to. I barely want to be indoors. And, quite apart from my online "commitments", that doesn't bode well for the packing of my room.

Mind you, I'm about to take off for a weekend of No-Internet, over which I shall play (probably) about 9 games of Bunnock, get sunburned around the ears, and see more cousins than I can count.

The World Bunnock Championship Tournament has been held for 14 years now, yearly, in the town of Macklin Saskatchewan, where a whole parcel of ethnic Germans from Russia's Volga valley settled in the early 20th Century. Among the other things they brought from the Old World was the oddish game of "Bunnock", or as we know it, "Bones". Played with 52 horse ankle bones (don't look at me that way! They're cleaned, painted, and in no way seperated from the horses prematurely), and played in a sort of lawn bowling/horseshoes mesh between two teams of four.

Insanely fun- as most people discover after they've been forced to try it. Typically, that doesn't happen until you talked them past their whole "oh, weird!" reactions.

Anyway, the World Championship (meaning they were the first to have a tournament, and there's is the biggest) is held yearly in Macklin. Pretty much everyone who plays is descended from those Macklin-based German-Russians, or else heard of it from them. As a German-Russian of good Gartner stalk off my Mom's side, I'm consequently related (by many infathomable degrees of kinship) to every second person there. It's really sweet that way! Most the teams are Canadian, Albertans and Saskatchewaners being predominant, but people from all 13 provinces and territories have played (except maybe Nunavuters), not to mention Americans, Japanese, and Australians. Yes, some people have come from Japan and Australia to play. Never heard the story there, though.

Anyway, it's going to be sweet, sweet! I just hope my stitches don't give me any trouble...