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Interesting Day.
Jun. 16th, 2002 06:34 pmI had an interesting day today, and much of it involved thinking. Imagine that.
After having breakfast with Dad (Happy Father's Day!) and the rest of the family, I was told about what happened last night in my dad's exciting line of work. Apparently, four fourteen-year-olds set fire to a future apartment building and burned it to the ground. The fire was so hot that nearly every surrounding house is going to need new siding. Windows across the street were cracked and warped.
The engine that Dad was operating is half-melted. No joke. Half of his hair is singed off his arms and hands. He had to cut pressure to the hoses in order to catch the attention of two other firefighters, to let them know that the truck was literally steaming. By most laws of science, he shouldn't have even been able to keep pressure to the hoses with the hydrant running nearly dry.
No one was hurt, but the apartment building-to-be is now black sticks. Nothing more.
I've had this conversation before with my parents, and I'm intotal agreement with them. Young offenders should not be punished in private. How is it even possibly punishment? If a juvenile gets a private slap on the wrist, what does he or she learn? That he or she can get away with almost anything and their reputation will not suffer for it. Here's what they should do; They should work every day at the burn site, helping to clean up what they destroyed. Then, they should have to work at the fire hall, doing laundry, dishes, mopping, polishing, and cleaning until the entire apartment complex is rebuilt. If someone is publicly shamed, they learn.
Another idea, from a judge somewhere, I think: Proscecuted shoplifters to be made to stand outside of the store they stole from, bearing a sign of what they did and that they got caught, from opening to close for a year. They'll learn.
On a different note, I went to see 'A Moving Song', a play at Keyano Theatre. While I was waiting for the theatre to open, being early, I found my _spot_.
A little cove right outside the recital theatre doors. It's got comfy benches, lots of windows, lots of plants, and lovely lighting. I can just see myself sitting there, sketching, thinking, watching ... It's just a good _spot_. A good place to be alone, which is hard for me to find.
I went for a long walk downtown after the play. Familiarized myself with some of the surrounding area near the college. I think I'm going to be going back to Save-On-Foods quite a bit; not only does it have three favors of Pocky, it has .....*drumroll* .... TAZO!!! Wanted to stop by Artworks for some ... paint ... but it's closed on Sundays. Bought a DJ Vinylgroover CD, tried to haggle a T-Shirt down at the mall, failed, bitched about the price of the only pair of 30-34 jeans in Bootlegger (Seventy four freaking bucks!) ... almost bought a copy of Sun Tzu's Art of War in Superstore, but decided against it. Next time.
This whole afternoon on my own made me realize; I might be able to do this, even though I hardly get the chance. I can be on my own. I can live by myself. Granted, this is after living in Fort Mac for nearly three years, but I'm starting to gather what it will be like after I move out.
So yeah. I'm done. For now.
P.S. ( Brushpens are fun! )
After having breakfast with Dad (Happy Father's Day!) and the rest of the family, I was told about what happened last night in my dad's exciting line of work. Apparently, four fourteen-year-olds set fire to a future apartment building and burned it to the ground. The fire was so hot that nearly every surrounding house is going to need new siding. Windows across the street were cracked and warped.
The engine that Dad was operating is half-melted. No joke. Half of his hair is singed off his arms and hands. He had to cut pressure to the hoses in order to catch the attention of two other firefighters, to let them know that the truck was literally steaming. By most laws of science, he shouldn't have even been able to keep pressure to the hoses with the hydrant running nearly dry.
No one was hurt, but the apartment building-to-be is now black sticks. Nothing more.
I've had this conversation before with my parents, and I'm intotal agreement with them. Young offenders should not be punished in private. How is it even possibly punishment? If a juvenile gets a private slap on the wrist, what does he or she learn? That he or she can get away with almost anything and their reputation will not suffer for it. Here's what they should do; They should work every day at the burn site, helping to clean up what they destroyed. Then, they should have to work at the fire hall, doing laundry, dishes, mopping, polishing, and cleaning until the entire apartment complex is rebuilt. If someone is publicly shamed, they learn.
Another idea, from a judge somewhere, I think: Proscecuted shoplifters to be made to stand outside of the store they stole from, bearing a sign of what they did and that they got caught, from opening to close for a year. They'll learn.
On a different note, I went to see 'A Moving Song', a play at Keyano Theatre. While I was waiting for the theatre to open, being early, I found my _spot_.
A little cove right outside the recital theatre doors. It's got comfy benches, lots of windows, lots of plants, and lovely lighting. I can just see myself sitting there, sketching, thinking, watching ... It's just a good _spot_. A good place to be alone, which is hard for me to find.
I went for a long walk downtown after the play. Familiarized myself with some of the surrounding area near the college. I think I'm going to be going back to Save-On-Foods quite a bit; not only does it have three favors of Pocky, it has .....*drumroll* .... TAZO!!! Wanted to stop by Artworks for some ... paint ... but it's closed on Sundays. Bought a DJ Vinylgroover CD, tried to haggle a T-Shirt down at the mall, failed, bitched about the price of the only pair of 30-34 jeans in Bootlegger (Seventy four freaking bucks!) ... almost bought a copy of Sun Tzu's Art of War in Superstore, but decided against it. Next time.
This whole afternoon on my own made me realize; I might be able to do this, even though I hardly get the chance. I can be on my own. I can live by myself. Granted, this is after living in Fort Mac for nearly three years, but I'm starting to gather what it will be like after I move out.
So yeah. I'm done. For now.
P.S. ( Brushpens are fun! )
