Winter is Coming

I have been debating this post for a while, trying to figure out the best way to tackle something so huge that it can't really be given the attention it truly deserves in a single post.  No more procrastinating, here it is.

George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire, and its HBO adaption: Game of Thrones.

I love novels that won't let you put them down, and The Song of Ice and Fire series is the best I have come across in a long time.  A dynamic, immersive epic fantasy, The Song of Ice and Fire is unlike anything I have ever come across.  It's characters are well defined, living, breathing, people with sometimes extraordinary  everyday problems, who worry about the decisions that they make, and how their choices will effect the people around them.  Every character has his or her own motivations that drive them, often at cross purposes with other characters.  The plots (Yes plots, plural) are incredibly well fleshed out, and deviously convoluted.  The beautiful part about this is no matter how obscure a reference, you can be certain that even a casual mention will impact the story down the line, and usually in a BIG way.
For those of you who haven't yet picked up the series for yourselves, what are you waiting for?  I have tried to keep this post spoiler free, but there are some images and comments below that will reveal small things about the tale.  I don't mean to ruin anything for anyone, but this is a series that begs to be discussed.  Like The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, rarely have I seen so many people fervently reading the same books at the same time, lugging 800-1200 page bricks around with them where ever they go, hoping for an opportunity to read even a few more pages, all of them dying to share their discoveries with fellow readers.  Like friends comparing notes on favourite movies, these novels promote a strong sense of community between their readers and practically demand to be discussed in an open forum.

I was first introduced to George R.R. Martin's epic fantasy through the HBO adaption of his series titled Game of Thrones.  With 10 episodes in it's first season, the HBO series aims to cover one book per season, a task that, thus far, it has done with remarkable precision.   After watching the pilot I was hooked.  All aspects of the HBO series are marvelously executed.  I flew through the 10 episodes in about 3 days in late August.   I immediately went out and bought the first 5 books of the series.  To date, these are one only titles available, in what is eventually planned to be a 7 book series.  I read the first book, 800+ pages, in 3 days and never looked back.  As is so often the case, these books are better than the film version, and in this case, that is not an easy thing to do. 

Set primarily in the fictional Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, A Song of Ice and Fire is a feat of world building on scale with Tolkien's Middle Earth, or Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman's Deathgate Cycle.  The parallels are easy to draw, but there are origin references that hint at an Atlantis-esque origin story as well, tipping the hat to our own diverse wealth of myth and legend. There is a rich, diverse history for each of the Seven Kingdoms and varied belief systems dating back roughly 12,000 years, that has a significant impact on the current events depicted in the novels.  Like any setting that is this well defined, the reader has absolutely no problems becoming totally immersed in the day to day lives of the myriad characters that inhabit this fictional world.

The reader is introduced to a vivid and incredibly diverse cast of characters early on.  In the first novel: A Game of Thrones, readers experience the story from the perspectives of roughly a dozen principal characters.  Love them, or hate them, each of these principal characters elicit strong reactions from the readership.  First and foremost we meet the Stark Family.  One of the 8 primary principal Noble Houses of Westeros, owing allegiance to the Iron Throne, The Starks are the Guardians of the North, and can trace their lineage back to the Kings of The North, before Aegon the Conqueror united the various feuding states of Westeros into the untied Seven Kingdoms.  Their heraldric arms depict a grey Direwolf rampant on a white field, and their Family words are "Winter is Coming." (Like I said, there is an immersive, well defined back story).  When we first meet them, the Stark family consists of:
Eddard (Ned) Stark - The Father, Guardian on the North, Lord of Winterfell.  In his mid 30's (late 40's in the HBO special) A seasoned man in his prime, Ned is a man for whom honour and duty are paramount.  He has close ties to King Robert Baratheon, whom he was fostered with as a boy.
Catelyn (Cat) Stark - The Mother.  In her early 30's (early 40's in the HBO special) Catelyn is the Elder daughter of Hoster Tully, the Lord of the Riverlands.  Her marriage Ned Stark was intended to cement the alliance between these two powerful houses.  She is utterly devoted to her husband, and fiercely protective of her natural born children  Catelyn resents the presence of John Snow at Winterfell, as she still considers his existence as a slight to her marriage .
Robb Stark - Their first born son.  18 years old.  Rob is Heir to Winterfell and the Title of Guardian of the North.
Jon Snow - Ned's bastard son, brought home to be raised at Winterfell after the successful Rebellion that put Robert Barathian on the Iron Throne.  Jon has been raised amongst his half siblings since he was a year old. He knows nothing of his mother.  17 years old.  He deeply cares for all of his 1/2 siblings, despite Catelyn's continued disapproval of his presence at Winterfell.
Sansa Stark - Their first born daughter.  13 years old.  Renown for her youthful beauty, even at her early age, Sansa dreams of a life at court, filled with fine dresses, elegant balls, and handsome suitors.
Arya Stark - Their youngest Daughter, 9 years old.  Arya is a tomboy, more at home climbing trees and causing mischief, then at her needlework.  Arya is a free spirit who often laments her lot in life as a girl of noble blood.
Brandon (Bran) Stark - The 2nd born son.  8 years old.  Bran is a free spirit to loves to climb the tallest towers of Winterfell, and dreams of being a knight when he is older.
Rickon Stark - The youngest child of the Stark line.  When we first meet Rickon, he is 3 years old.

We are also introduced to the Lannister's of Casterly Rock.  Principal family of the Westerlands, the Lannisters are the richest family in Westeros, thanks to the gold mines found in and around their holdings at Casterly Rock and Lannisport.  Their patriarch, Tywin Lannister served as Hand to the King, during the reign of King Aery's the Mad King prior to Robert Baratheon's rebellion.  There coat of arms depicts a golden lion rampant on a red field.  Their Family words are "Hear Me Roar." When we are first introduced to them they are as follows:
Lord Tywin Lannister - Warden of the West, Shield of of Lannisport, Lord of Casterly Rock.  The patriarch.
Ser Jaime Lannister - Eldest scion of House Lannister.  The King Slayer, Twin brother of Cersei.  A member of the King's Guard.  It was Jaime's sword thrust that ended the rule of King Aery's the Mad, thus winning the rebellion for Robert Barathian.
Queen Cersei Baratheon - Twin sister of Jamie.  Wife of King Robert Baratheon.
Tyrion Lannister - The Imp.  Youngest son of Lord Tywin.  Heir to Casterly Rock.  A source of constant disappointment for his Lord Father.
Crown Prince Jeoffery Baratheon - Eldest Son of King Robert & Queen Cersi.  Grandchild to Lord Tywin.
Princess Myrcella Baratheon - Only Daughter of King Robert & Queen Cersi.  Grandchild to Lord Tywin.
Prince Tommen Baratheon - 2nd born son of King Robert & Queen Cersi. Grandchild to Lord Tywin.

Just be warned, that these are only two of the families entwined in the Game of Thrones.  Countless other characters inhabit these pages, breathing life into this fascinating and remarkable tale.  For clarification, be sure to read the appendices that Martin has included in each novel.

The rich, detailed world combine with the realistic, believable characters to create a epic fantasy the likes of which I have never encountered.  Martin's dark, visceral tale grips you early in the telling and refuses to let you go.  Book after book, it is impossible to put them down.  But be warned. These are not your typical fantasy novel.  They are aimed at an adult audience. Good doesn't always triumph over evil.  Nothing is black or white.  Shades of grey prevail in this tale.  The supposed hero doesn't always get the girl.  This is a long, dark, read.  It's genre defying  novels like this that truly make make me appreciate the art involved in the writers craft.

Rather than cheapening the experience and delving into a lengthy synopsis of what happens in the novels, instead, I implore you to pick them up for yourself.  Make your own discoveries. Form your own opinions. Like so many others around you right now, immerse yourself in this wonderful story.  You'll thank me.

After all, Winter is Coming.

They should sell tickets to this shit!

I recently had the opportunity to spend some time in the waiting room of the triage unit of Grand River Hospital here in Waterloo between the hours of 11:30pm and 5am on a Saturday night.  Luckily I was neither bleeding profusely, nor in severe pain so I was able to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.  As a perk, I had talked a close friend into coming along to keep me company, and we both had the forethought to bring along a book, just in case.
Now this was not my first late night visit to a hospital emergency room, so I am familiar with some of the going's on that one can encounter, especially on a weekend, but I have to say that the parties involved really raised the bar and exceeded my expectations.  Like 6 Characters in search of an Author, these people were begging to be the focus of my latest post!
When we first arrived, the notables included a gaggle of university ladies, none of whom appeared to have any reason to be in the emergency room.  They giggled and squealed, texted, and surfed on their smart phones for a good 2 hours before abruptly leaving without any of them ever making it out of the preliminary waiting room.  I have to assume that they were bloody tourists, looking for a nights entertainment on a students budget.
  Also in attendance was 3 very well dressed young gentleman in there early 20's, with a gentleman in his early 40's.  Sporting suits and caps, they were team members of a local junior B hockey club.  One of them had the glassy, vacant stare of a recent, mild concussion.  The concussed was escorted from the waiting room fairly early on, while his teammates and coach looked on. 
Of course there was also a pair of resident tweakers. Seperate Junkies who harassed everyone in the waiting room for cash, lighters, etc before being escorted out by the security staff.  One actually had the tenacity to slip back in and attempt to sneak through the waiting room into the inner sanctum...(real inconspicuous like) only to be escorted out soon afterwords by the police.
One of my favourites was a woman in her late 40's who was escorted in by the police, dressed only in a fluffy teal bath robe, straight out of 1982.  While she appeared to have hurt her hand, her police escort wasn't about to let her out of their sight...what I wouldn't give to find out her story!
But the trio that takes the cake, without a doubt, was the last arrivals of my stay.  Around 2am a pair of 20 something men came in, one a big, burly good-ol'boy, the other, a scrawny, bearded, sweatpants and flannel wearing, full sleeve tattoo and toque adorned Hipster wannabe.  They were closely followed by a very attractive, well dressed, leggy, mid-20's brunette.
My first thought was "what the hell is she doing with them?"  From this point forward my night only got better.  Scrawny rushed to the closest triage nurse, exclaiming "We need help!  She's been shot!"
I will point out now that there was a distinct lack of both visible blood and urgency oozing from the brunette.  The young woman approached the nurse, casually holding out her left hand.  "It's a B.B. ... A lead B.B."  The nurse shook her head in disbelief, and proceeded to start the papaerwork.  Eventually the good-ol'boy left, hat in his hands, leaving the brunette and the Hipster wannabe to wait for her to be seen by a Dr.  The Hipster barely said a word the whole time, holding his head in his scrawny hands, occasionally wringing his toque, and generally looking very guilty and dispondant.  Their story:  They were at a big party at a friends place, with a whole whack of people, and then without any warning whatsoever, she got shot with a B.B. gun.  Apparently, they had no idea who the shooter was, as they didn't ever see the gun...Now I am a pretty trusting person, but even I could drive a Mac Truck through all the holes in that story.  All you had to do was take one look at the Hipster boyfriend to know without a doubt that he had been horsing around with his buddy and somehow managed to shoot his girlfriend!  Classic!  The best part of the night came after the brunette and I had made it into the secondary waiting rooms.  Concerned hospital staff had obviously notified the police, as an enraged brunette stormed from her room, police officer in tow, shouting, "there's my boyfriend, and there's the door!  Get out, I'm fine!"  I have to assume that the Officer was hoping for a statement that would implicate the Hipster wannabe in a domestic assault, but the brunette, rather than being accomodating, was protecting her scruffy little boy toy.  The officer took his leave.
Tim and I exchanged looks!  Chicky's obviously got some baggage!!!
I now understand why reality TV sucks people in!  Combine that drama with the hordes of people who follow ER, or Grey's Anatomy, then mix that combination with a liberal dose of the nonsense that you find in your local hospital waiting room, and you would have a license to print money.
So if your ever bored on a Friday/Saturday night, and your budget is tight, consider cozying up in your local triage and sit back, relax and enjoy the fireworks!

An Atypical Friday Night

So I'm out doing some running around last night before work, trying to get a little Christmas shopping done at the Sunrise Center in Kitchener when I come across a fender bender at a stop light at the Canadian Tire parking lot.  Two smaller imported cars, both filled with 20 something men out bombing around on a Friday night.  By the time I drive past the scene they are all standing around their smashed up civics, shaking their heads.   Seeing this, I think to myself that the impending holiday season seems to have instilled all of the drivers and shoppers around me with a frantic sense of mindless hustle and bustle. People seem driven by a single-minded self centered attitude that has them so focused on their current goal of getting the perfect tree, or obtaining that Ipad, X box, stocking stuffer, or whatever, that will symbolize the completion and attainment of all of their current earthly goals.  As I ponder this, the light turns green and I continue on my merry way, off to work for the night.
Not ten minutes later I'm zipping down highway 85 in the left hand lane (observing the posted speed limit of 90, of course) headed for the Schoolhouse Theatre, and the wonderful world of Elvis, that fills my days lately. Its about 6:10 pm, right at the end of rush hour, because its now December, its getting dark, but traffic is moving well.  Glancing at the clock I realize that I am going to be early for work, when I glance up into my rearview mirror to notice a set of headlights about 200 yards behind me.  Thinking I should get over so the car behind me can pass, I check my mirror again to make sure I am clear, but there is a transport in the right lane, so I check my rearview again, only to discover that in the intervening 2 seconds the car behind me is now right behind me, his headlights no longer visible.  Just as I start to wonder what the hell he is doing, he slams into the back of my Ford Escape.  I am thrown back into my seat, and I feel my vehicle tilt back to front.  I immediately throw on the brakes and, remembering the adjacent transport attempt to wrestle my vehicle onto the left shoulder.  So much for getting to work early.
Once I'm off onto the shoulder of the highway, I'm hoping the damage isn't too bad.  Cars are screaming by, horns blazing.  Their headlights bluring the whole scene into a cacophony of light and sound. 
On first inspection I feel pretty good, considering. Adrenaline has obviously kicked in as everything seems to be moving at half speed around me.  I realize that I am also noticing minute details that wouldn't normally leave an impression.  Wondering if the other driver even bothered to stop.  Thinking I need to call work and let them know I am going to be late.  I should call Brenna and let her know what happened...all of these thoughts go through my mind before I have even reached for the door handle.
The other driver has indeed also pulled over and he meets me at the back of my car as I begin to inspect the damage.  His headlights are still on, so I can see my vehicle, but his car is hidden behind the glare.  I take note of his appearance, mid 50's early 60's. Big mustache.  "Are you okay?" He asks this twice as I methodically begin to inspect the back end of my SUV.  I tell him that I am fine, and ask him if he is okay.  "Oh... Fine."  He says.  There is some minor damage to my rear bumper, what I assume are blown anti-crash pads dangle from my under-carriage and the trim is pushed out on the driver side.  Seeing this, the other driver says, "Oh you're fine, I'll just give you some cash, no cops".  Alarm bells go off in my head. "Oh, there will be none of that" I respond in a calm, level voice, continuing my cursory inspection.  "What? You're fine! No cops!"."How's your car?" I ask.  "Oh Fucked! I'm fucked!  No cops, no insurance, I'll just get you some cash."  Alarm bells in my head are now almost deafening.  Leaving him standing by my car,  I wander back towards his car to inspect the damage for myself.
Squinting through the glare of his headlights I can see that his initial assessment isn't far off.  His front bumper and grill are gone. His hood is folded like a piece of oragami, almost 3/4 of the way to his windshield.  It's pretty obvious that he actually went right under the back end of my Escape at a pretty high rate of speed.  My guess would be at least 140 because of how quickly he closed the distance between us.  He's standing right beside me.  Now that we're inside the radius of his headlights I start to notice a few familiar symptoms. Symptom 1: His eyes are glassy.  "Pretty bad" I exclaim.  "I'm fucked!, no cops, I'll just give you some cash."  Sympton 2: He's repeating himself.
I wander back towards my vehicle and dial 911.  "What are you doing?"  He has followed me back to my car, and is standing beside me again. "I'm just making a phone call, can you get me your insurance information?"  He wanders back towards his car.  Symptom 3:  He is staggering and unable to walk a straight line.  "Yes, hello, I would like to report an accident.  I have been rear ended on Highway 85 in Waterloo.  I think the other driver may be impaired."  The dispatcher asks if I have the other drivers plate info, so I wander back to the rear of his vehicle
and dictate the plate number over the phone.  I also notice that the driver side door handle is held on with a zip tie.  This car has seen better days.  It is a VW EOS - not a model I am familiar with.  The dispatcher tells me to sit tight, as an officer is on the way.  As I make my way back towards my car, he rolls down his window and asks if I have a pen.  I tell him I don't, as I don't.  He tells me he's just going to pull ahead a bit and then drives off into traffic.  Not too bright.
A tow truck has now pulled up behind me.  He has just driven over the shattered remains of the other drivers front bumper.  I explain to him that my vehicle is drivable.  When he learns that the other driver has just driven away he asks if the police know this.  I call 911 again and explain to a second dispatcher that having already reported the accident, I am calling to update them with the information that the other driver has left the scene.  He tells me to wait in my car for the officer to arrive.  The tow truck driver tells me that he is going to walk back to where he hit the debris and try and clear it from the highway.  He's concerned that he may have damaged his truck and now wants to wait for the officer to log his complaint.
Climbing back into my vehicle, I take the opportunity to call Kelly at the Schoolhouse and Brenna and bring them up to speed.
When the officer arrives, she inspects my vehicle and asks about the other driver.  Turns out she was notified by the 2nd dispatcher, and doesn't have the plate info I gave to the first dispatcher.  I also mention my suspicion that the other driver was impaired.  While I fill out my accident statement form she attempts to locate the dispatcher who fielded my first call.  As I return the completed form, she asks me to take a look at a photo that she has pulled up on her fancy in-dash computer.  Without a doubt it is the second driver.  The mustache is a dead give away.  The officer is almost giddy!  Leaving the scene, possibly impaired, and they have his plate number.  Served up on a silver platter for the holidays.
The officer explains that local police as well as the detachment from his home town (he's not a local) are now on the lookout for him.  They will have to catch him before he gets home in order to verify if he is indeed impaired.  She promises to keep me up to date on what happens, and as an afterthought, asks me if I am injured.  "Not that I am aware of at this time."  A pretty standard response from me.  Adrenaline has kicked in, and I am feeling really good, chipper even, but time will tell.  I thank the officer for her help, hop back into my car and continue my trip to work. 
I arrive in time to double check the preset and give the half hour call.  All of this has taken just over an hour. 
Fast forward 6 days.  I have been diagnosed with whiplash, am very stiff and sore, have had all kinds of complications with my insurance because I didn't get his information, have talked with the OPP detachment multiple times trying to obtain a copy of the accident report for insurance purposes and have yet to even start the process of getting my vehicle repaired, when I receive a voice mail from the responding officer.
It's short, its to the point:  Yes, they caught him.  Yes, he was impaired.  Yes he has been charged with 3 separate offences: Reckless driving, leaving the scene, and impaired.  Merry Christmas asshole.

The moral of the story:

Karma's a bitch.