February 2010 Archives

I have spend an extended amount of time over the last month in Excel® both for personal and professional purposes, and I do believe I run the risk of becoming permanently cross-eyed in the future. Not that I am not grateful to have them, indeed, I cannot even fathom a reversion to banging out repetitive calculations on a Casio scientific calculator. In fact, I have made somewhat of a point of beefing up my skill set when it comes to that venerable office staple. It really is a fantastic way to crunch a lot of data in a very short time span, once you have mastered its formula and macro system.

More specifically, I have been crunching a bewildering array of mortgage and budget calculations in an attempt to reach a harmonious compromise between my desire to be done with the instability inherent in renting and the desire to continue my indulgent lifestyle that relies on a high volume of discretionary income. I have reviewed copious amounts of data for the local housing market, the price/income ratios, the price/rent ratio, general economic indicators, interest rates, and potential for income increase over the next five years, and my likely use of such residence along a broad variety of criteria. It is certainly the most highly leveraged investment I will ever make, and so due diligence is absolutely imperative. That said, it’s easy to get lost in a mountain of figures and projections.

The bottom line (apropos in an accounting discussion) is that the decision to buy is laden with risk, regardless of much forethought is given. That said, the deliberative, methodical approach at least allows one to examine a multitude of scenarios and manage risks accordingly. And there’s the rub, I can manage downside risks, and buffer accordingly, but if the housing market tanks, everybody is going to take a bath, regardless of how well and responsibly they planned. The lesson of the US housing market was not lost on me — a raging mob of greedy and short-sighted investors, buyers, and brokers managed to destabilize and crater an entire market.

Maybe I should just be homeless.

The Olympics come once every two years in a blistering fury of media coverage and commercial exploitation to overstretched cities around the world. They welcome it with open arms, all of them eager to present on the world stage and play host to the world’s first and best event in sport. And to be honest, I am fairly hooked, watching the entirety of the games for the first time in glorious high definition. I find it inspiring watching athletes perform at that level, and in my very limited fashion, I try to follow their example in my pursuits. But I think it’s sometimes hard to tell what the games are actually about in the new millennium — the company to successfully milk the most they can out of the two week stint or the athletes that actually physically compete. I find it hilarious to watch athletes who claim they are headed to a certain popular fast food vendor for food after they compete, as if greasy fries were conducive to high performance athletics.

I have been somewhat more disappointed, however, with some of the pregame antics that have been going on for this set of games. It was announced today in the press that Canadians were highly unlikely to achieve the stated goals of ­“Own the Podium”, the wildly over-optimistic program intended to make sure Canadian athletes dominated the 2010 games. To this effect, they spent $117 million dollars on research and training for a goal that nobody in their right mind would have believed attainable. I actually think that spending a bit of money on developing athletics in Canada is a reasonable use of taxpayer resources. However, using that ill-conceived goal to stop other athletes from having a chance at making some practice runs down the ski hill earns my ire.

Winning in the Olympics, as illusory and shifting a concept as that is, should be about training and athleticism, not necessarily who can spend the most and connive their way to the top. I don’t think Canada needs to cheat or twist their advantage to win the games; our athletes are dedicated enough to stand on their own merits. I think it cheapens the achievement when we win by unfair tactics.

I’d like to see in the future, and for the rest of the games, more about the effort and the skill displayed, and less about how Canada has somewhat let down expectations. To my mind, we have great reason to be proud of the performance of our athletes thus far, and we should celebrate their efforts and accomplishments.

Looking out over the admittedly bleak landscape is rather awe-inspiring if you can withstand the icy blasts of wind that shoot across the plains. Looking now at the vast expanse of snowy farmland, it’s hard to believe that once endless herds of bison met a grisly death as they paraded off the ledge featured above in an incredibly elaborate and developed Blackfoot tradition. They called it a Pik’Sun, which translates directly according to the museum that my cousin and I visited, “Deep Kettle of Blood.” Quite.

In the intervening decades, the tribes occasionally would return to the jump, when the conditions were appropriate to prepare for the ritual that would ensure food and clothing for the difficult month ahead. As I contemplate a move perhaps professionally and certainly personally within in the next couple of months, I come back to this chilling image of bygone bones resting eternally in the valley below. It’s a powerful reminder that sometimes the ugliest of displays of gore result in a fresh and creative beginning for all those that are willing to work at it.

Because at the end of the hunt, the carcasses were carefully plundered, bones carefully fashioned into tools, meat prepared for storage, and hides tanned for clothing. What could be a tenuous existence in a harsh and sometimes barren land was sustained by what must have been unpleasant work in that killing field. In a very real sense, their lives were made out of that buffalo jump.

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that that is the best that can often be taken away from a difficult experience. I have in my time run a great many of my own personal bison off a cliff, and I I think the best that you can do is to use what’s left to create something new. The process is never pretty, and what you’re left with is something completely different than you started with — the tools and the food for growth.