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Pat Dryburgh

A few years ago, I was at a really low point in my life. I had just been dumped, I had lost my religion, and I was living at home with my parents at the age of twenty-four. For the first time in my life, I used alcohol to assuage my pain.

One night during this time, I was hanging out with a couple of high school buddies—Simon and Mike. The three of us had grown up playing in various garage bands. We played our first gigs at the community youth dances; performed together in the battles of the bands in our school’s cafeteria; recorded demos of our songs first on a little 4-track tape recording, then eventually with a cracked version of whatever audio software was available at the time.

Simon and I had gotten to know each other pretty well as we worked together at the local grocery store. Our friendship carried through college and into our young adult years and we had continued performing in various ensembles throughout that time. Mike and I, on the other hand, had not been particularly close through high school, and hadn’t stayed in touch beyond it.

We spent the night playing guitar, singing songs, drinking, making each other laugh, reminiscing about old times and sharing with each other what life had brought our way in the time since. As the night came to a close, we stood at the front door and talked about a new project the two of them were gearing up for. It was the rebirth of a band called Boss Rebel that Mike had started a few years prior. They had recorded a couple of albums and performed all over Southwestern Ontario, but eventually broke up due to internal conflict. I was six months into a sabbatical from playing music after burning out from a year of rehearsing and performing multiple times every week, but the idea of doing something with two old friends peeked my interest.

My time with Boss Rebel went on to be some of the best years of my musical life. I had always taken music incredibly seriously, dedicated in my devotion to developing both my craft and business, but Boss Rebel taught me that music was meant, first and foremost, to be fun.

In the two years we were together, we recorded a full-length album, shot and released two music videos (one for the title track “Heavybad” featuring yours truly in his favourite style of swimming attire, the other for “Name in Lights”), and played some of the craziest shows I’ve ever played; everything from a breast cancer fundraising show to an axe throwing competition and everything in between.

But aside from all of that, what Boss Rebel really did was save my life. It gave me something good to cling to when everything else in my life felt like it was falling from under my feet.


Getting ready to clean my apartment this afternoon, I did a double take as I opened Rdio and noticed a very familiar image staring back at me from my collection view: the album art for the only Boss Rebel album I was a part of. I have had no part in handling any of the business affairs of the band, so while I knew it had been available on iTunes since its release, I had no idea it had been added to Rdio’s collection as well.

Suffice to say, I’m pretty fuckin’ stoked!

If you’re into bands like Sublime, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Rancid, Ill Scarlett, Black Belt Jones, or Weezer, or if you just like fun, energetic party rock, Boss Rebel might be your kind of thing. If it is, definitely check out Heavybad on iTunes or Rdio.

Heavybad on Rdio
Check out *Heavybad* by Boss Rebel on iTunes or Rdio
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I had the chance to get away from the city this weekend to spend some time with a dear old friend. I took the ferry from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay and drove the rest of the way to Victoria on a wonderful spring night. The first night was spent eating venison chili at Fisherman’s Wharf then catching up with Corrie, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

The next day Corrie and I planned a night under the stars and drove into town to pick up supplies. We stopped at a bunch of great little stores in Victoria’s downtown, a few of which were simply for our enjoyment.

Vinyl

After realizing we were still too many important items away from our great camping adventure, we spent an ungodly amount of time in Value Village, followed by nowhere near enough time driving along the coast.

Vanagon
Chinese Cemetary
Corrie

The next day we drove from Victoria to the Juan de Fuca trail. A slow start meant we didn’t get to spend as much time as we had hoped, but the time spent at Parkinson Creek was well worth it.

A photographer in her element
Log
Rock
Mussels
Erosion
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I haven’t been eating well the last few days. It started last week when I ate gluten for the first time in a few weeks. I had a donut from Tim Hortons.

Since starting on Paleo, I have only had gluten once, otherwise cutting it out completely. I haven’t had fast food all year.

A big part of my success is due to my location. I live next to a grocery store and a butcher shop. While I can’t say for sure, I imagine it might be harder if I moved to a place where these amenities aren’t as close.

Two weeks ago, when I left to visit my family and friends in Ontario, I was nervous about my eating situation. First, there is so much food in my parents’ kitchen, which I used to gorge on late at night watching Buffy reruns. Second, I drove everywhere, which meant I passed numerous fast food operations frequently. The first week, I made it. However, the second week I was not so strong.

As I said, it started with a donut. I was driving home from visiting friends and was starving. Just before I got out of the city, one last sign caught my eye. The red, white, and yellow glow drew me in, and suddenly I found myself at the speakerbox.

“A large chocolate milk and a Boston Cream donut to go.”

And then I paid. And then I drove. And then I ate.

It was so rich. More artificially sweet than anything I’d eaten in months.

My streak was blown again, but I wasn’t out of the rough yet. My new streak was blown a mere three days later.

In the past, this would be the point where I give up. I realize I can’t do what I’ve set out to do, and then fall back into my old patterns. I would gain the weight I had lost, closing myself off from the world with food.

Today, I’m back on track. I picked up some groceries last night. I’ve planned to go for a run after work. I’m moving on.

I’m starting to learn to let the small things be small, and the big things be big. In the end, the donut was a small thing.

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There were things I learned. There were things I loved. There were things I hated. There were things that challenged me. There were things that brought me to my knees. There were things that lifted me to the heavens. There were tears of joy. There were tears of pain. There were happy little accidents that led to life-changing decisions. There were new friendships made and old friendships strengthened. There was a move across the country. There was a lease to sign. There were movies made. There were songs written. There were designs thrown away. There were things that, in the end, worked out just fine.

There were “Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred” more minutes. There were some I used wisely, others I used foolishly, but the ones I remember most were the ones full of friends, love, and laughter.

Thank you to everyone who made my twenty-eighth year one of my best.

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I don’t feel it yet.

I see it in my face and gut when I look in the mirror. I notice it when I throw on my jacket that fits a bit looser or when a belt tightens to the next notch. People around me have commented that they’ve noticed the change.

The last time I lost weight—when I lost 60 lbs in about 8 months—I still felt fat. I wasn’t. I very quickly put that weight back on, so I don’t know whether I would have become more comfortable at my new size given more time.

I do have more energy. I find it less taxing to climb the stairs to my third floor office. I still haven’t started working out regularly, but have a plan to start tonight.

Most of all, though, I’m proud. I truly did not believe I would ever lose weight again. The diets and programs I had tried and failed at in the past led me to believe I was doomed to be overweight. I had to let that fear of failure go, accept the responsibility for my self, and put the system I needed in place to affect change.

And I’ve done that. I have a ways to go before I reach my ultimate goal, but I’m heading in the right direction. I’m not worried anymore about the past. I’m letting it go in favour of the future.

And the future looks oh so bright.

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