On Saturday morning, we took a couple ferries and buses and after a final uphill hike, we arrived at a beautiful B&B called Shanti House at the top of Denman Island. There was a dog there named Jake who loved playing Fetch. Actually, he loved playing Almost Fetch, which always ended up with him collecting the sticks I threw and not giving them back. The view and the sun there were a perfect combination to help us begin to relax.

Continued…

This picture is of a wall. That’s it, just a wall.

You probably didn’t notice the person standing in front of the wall. If you look carefully, you may recognize that stealth-like chameleon. (Guess what, it’s me.)

Maybe it’s more than just a picture because I’ve never felt this blended. I’m caught up in this mixture of unrewarding work and excited trepidation, and it’s getting thick. These days, any time I have for writing goes instead to editing. After that, it’ll be web design and marketing. Then you’ll be getting regular updates and sneak peeks at something that I hope is going to be pretty awesome. By then, though, none of those updates will be from this site.

I read a book once in which the author quite frequently used the word ‘presently.’ At one point, I recall seeing it on no less than five consecutive pages. It distracted me from the story then, but I understand its use much more clearly now. That’s how things happen sometimes, in the present.

Nobody’s noticed more than me the infrequency of posts to this site. I haven’t been drawn to it as much as in the past, like a favourite t-shirt with a permanent stain, but that’s because I’ve decided to throw it out. The concept was too big in the beginning, and when I scaled it all down, thetrigger.net lost my vision. Now, what I imagine is perfectly simple.

I will take my things and set them somewhere else, and if you were to visit, you would find a more accurate representation of me, presently.

Yesterday, I schemed.

I’ve always wanted to write my name in fresh cement, and when I saw the recently-poured sidewalk across the street, I couldn’t help myself. I took an apple, chopped it in half, and carved an imprint into it. Then I waited until the Surprisingly Vigilant Security Guard had to go to the washroom, ran over there, and stuck my apple into it, retreating to safety moments before he came back. In and out like a bank heist.

To be honest, I’ve never been in a bank heist, but I have seen a lot of heist movies, so believe me, I know what I’m talking about. My execution was somewhere between Ocean’s Eleven and Dog Day Afternoon. Closer to Ocean’s Eleven, though, since nobody… well, you know.

The only flaw in my execution was that my apple was too mushy by the time I used it that it left only the faintest impression. It basically looks like a water stain. But I guess that’s why they say crime doesn’t pay. It costs an apple.

I’ve been thinking about important conversations lately. Presently in my Great Big Project, a main character is having one of those Important Conversations. Once this conversation is over, the climax will unfold, and shortly after that, it will all conclude. I’m fairly certain how the story will end, and I’m equally certain that a fair amount of what I want to say will be left out.

It’s a minor torment. This story has been on my mind for nearly seven years, and in that time I’ve thought of many details. It feels like a shame to have wasted that time, though I do understand that it wasn’t all a waste. Many details have now become unnecessary, except to explain the backstory, which leaves me with ample material to work from if I ever have to write a prequel. I hope not to.

We never really know when one of these Important Conversations will happen, do we? Nobody tells you at the time, so it’s not until perhaps years later when you realize the impact it had.

I’m going to be busier than usual these upcoming few months. As excited as I am, the thought that I’ll have less time to work on this nearly-completed project is frustrating. I can nearly see the end. It’s right there.

My local favourite coffee shop usually has a riddle posted at the counter, and when I went in this morning, the riddle was this:

What is most useful when it’s broken?

I scratched my head for a while as I thought it through.

Finally, I asked, “Is it a piggy bank?”

It wasn’t. Or at least, he said, not the answer they had. I stepped back and thought it through again. Finally, when my tea was ready and I had no more guesses, I asked for the answer.

“An egg,” he said.

“Aww, that’s not right,” I replied. “Piggy bank’s a better answer than egg.”

This is my reasoning. An egg brings life into the world, which to me seems like the most useful application of anything. If it’s broken, it’s completely useless, except of course – as the riddle implies – if you’re eating it.

Whereas a piggy bank contains money, and when it breaks, you can buy something awesome. Seriously, you can get anything you want. A broken piggy bank could even buy more food than what you’d get from eating a broken egg! Even math agrees with me!

The barrista, however, did not. And since it’s his place, he gets to decide the answers to his riddles.

But since this is my web site…

The correct answer is piggy bank.

Some time last week, I didn’t sleep well. In the middle of the night, I heard a loud, loud noise that sprung me immediately to my feet. I stood beside the bed confused, adjusting to my surroundings. My girlfriend tends to sleep lightly, and yet she was undisturbed. Had there been no loud, loud noise at all? Was it the sound of my feet hitting the floor that sounded to me like thunder? Hesitantly, I returned to our bed, and eventually, once again, to sleep.

And then yesterday, after a slightly delayed flight and then a long drive, I was back in my home town. I did not sleep uninterrupted. Once again, I woke up in a similar confused way, slowly adjusting to my surroundings.

Something similar happened years and years ago. I can’t imagine what similarities between then and now might be causing this unusual restlessness. At times, I worry about things like sleepwalking, even though I’ve never had a history of it. Never even an incident. But the thing I worry about is not knowing if perhaps there was.