I really love you Jamil. I don't say it often enough, in fact I rarely say it at all, but I really enjoy the time we spend together.
The last time I heard this was...
Well somebody had to say it. I'm happy that I can still say it. I can. I did. I hope to again.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Eyes closed
Raindrops, green leaf. Spots
Insects, green leaf. Fear
Predator, brown branch. Stealth
Attack.
White and green.
No, Green on white.
Curiosity about new beginnings.
Red and orange sky. Romance in humidity. Sweat.
Grey skies and cobblestone. Intellectuals dance.
Black. Night falls and covers them all. The first bulb turns on. Purple.
Insects, green leaf. Fear
Predator, brown branch. Stealth
Attack.
White and green.
No, Green on white.
Curiosity about new beginnings.
Red and orange sky. Romance in humidity. Sweat.
Grey skies and cobblestone. Intellectuals dance.
Black. Night falls and covers them all. The first bulb turns on. Purple.
Midterms lead to stress, and stress leads to negative thoughts about women
I will not offer my disclaimer about my generalizations on girls. I will not soften the blow with my regular "This does not apply to everyone..." shpeel. What I have to say applies to all girls. If you're a girl and you finish reading this post, and after having read it you say to me, "That's not true, I'm not like that" then you're a liar.
I hate girls. I hate girls because they're full of shit. Every girl works together to continue this collective lie about what girls wants. For those of you who have read the ladder theory, I won't bore you by reiterating the thoughts from it. For those of you who haven't, well I must say the first few pages of the theory are sheer genius, and you must google it.
Today I am angry about the collective lie specifically. Girls talk a lot of shit about how they want a guy they can talk to, a guy who understands them, a guy who is nice and motivated. All of this is fraud. Slowly but surely girls are starting to admit that what they want is a guy who is 6-feet tall, and has broad shoulders.
I hate girls. I hate girls because they're full of shit. Every girl works together to continue this collective lie about what girls wants. For those of you who have read the ladder theory, I won't bore you by reiterating the thoughts from it. For those of you who haven't, well I must say the first few pages of the theory are sheer genius, and you must google it.
Today I am angry about the collective lie specifically. Girls talk a lot of shit about how they want a guy they can talk to, a guy who understands them, a guy who is nice and motivated. All of this is fraud. Slowly but surely girls are starting to admit that what they want is a guy who is 6-feet tall, and has broad shoulders.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
As we go on... we remember
It finally hit me about a week or so ago that I'm in fourth year, and I'm definitely feeling nostalgic. Everything that happens now causes me to drift into memory lane.
The other day someone finally stole my bike, and all of a sudden a rush of memories started pouring in. I remembered the day the key broke off in my bike lock and I said to myself, "Well fuck if I'm going to buy another lock, I should've never trusted Wal-mart." I never did replace that lock. Then I remembered getting hit by a van in second year, fixing it that summer, and then destroying it in the snow the following winter, riding it through the snow on the way to a soccer tournament. I wasn't even put off by the fact that henceforth I am forced to walk my lazy ass to school and work; the memories used up my emotional reserve.
Everytime I see someone in the halls I get a quick memory of when I first met them, and each memory seems so blurry. It's amazing how much you can do in four years outside of studying in a program you hate. In any case, those memories are normally followed up by feelings of sadness, because it's so depressing to realise that I've known these people for over three years, but the last day I'll likely see most or any of them again is coming up in less than one.
It was easy to make this transition in highschool. I knew that if anything I would get to know more people, and they'd be more like me. Actually, I wasn't different than my highschool friends outside of the fact that I played soccer, which could have been said for about 10 other people at Pearson in my day. This time around, I'm not sure what will be. Taking my victory lap in school should be fun. I'm excited to be in school when around 80 percent of the people I know now aren't around anymore - sounds a lot like first year, in fact. But after that who knows? I don't. I need to date a first year girl, so that when I'm off doing my own thing after graduation, I can hang out with her and her friends and rekindle memories of my prime social years.
Isn't it peculiar that every time I suggest a personal problem on this blog, it can be easily resolved with the addition of a girlfriend to my life?
You're right, it isn't peculiar at all. But more on that to come.
The other day someone finally stole my bike, and all of a sudden a rush of memories started pouring in. I remembered the day the key broke off in my bike lock and I said to myself, "Well fuck if I'm going to buy another lock, I should've never trusted Wal-mart." I never did replace that lock. Then I remembered getting hit by a van in second year, fixing it that summer, and then destroying it in the snow the following winter, riding it through the snow on the way to a soccer tournament. I wasn't even put off by the fact that henceforth I am forced to walk my lazy ass to school and work; the memories used up my emotional reserve.
Everytime I see someone in the halls I get a quick memory of when I first met them, and each memory seems so blurry. It's amazing how much you can do in four years outside of studying in a program you hate. In any case, those memories are normally followed up by feelings of sadness, because it's so depressing to realise that I've known these people for over three years, but the last day I'll likely see most or any of them again is coming up in less than one.
It was easy to make this transition in highschool. I knew that if anything I would get to know more people, and they'd be more like me. Actually, I wasn't different than my highschool friends outside of the fact that I played soccer, which could have been said for about 10 other people at Pearson in my day. This time around, I'm not sure what will be. Taking my victory lap in school should be fun. I'm excited to be in school when around 80 percent of the people I know now aren't around anymore - sounds a lot like first year, in fact. But after that who knows? I don't. I need to date a first year girl, so that when I'm off doing my own thing after graduation, I can hang out with her and her friends and rekindle memories of my prime social years.
Isn't it peculiar that every time I suggest a personal problem on this blog, it can be easily resolved with the addition of a girlfriend to my life?
You're right, it isn't peculiar at all. But more on that to come.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Echoes from the past
In first year my brother forced me to read a book on proper study habits. After 20 pages I stopped reading it, for two reasons. First, I was getting marked on first year psych, but not on this book, so I made an immature attempt at cost-benefit analysis. Second, the first chapter was devoted to establishing a dichotomy between friendship and good grades. Every page went further to suggest that friends do nothing but waste your time and stand in the way of good grades; friends will hold you down, and step on you if given the chance to better their own grades at your expense. I'm all about breaking dichotomies, so I set out on a path to mediate between friendship and good grades. I figured I would find the 'middle-path' and enjoy the best of both worlds.
My friendships and my grades to date are both mediocre.
Kinda ironic. I sought after mediation and ended up in mediocrity. I say my grades are mediocre because I'm tiptoeing between a B- and a C+ average. As for my friendships...
They feel very one-sided, for the most part. Some nights I stay up late just thinking about the emotional load that one or more of my friends has dropped on me, over coffee, over msn, or over the phone. Sometimes I can't fall asleep until I've come to a consensus about what to tell Tanya or Annie or Tampon or Yoni (or...) about their 'situation.' I wake up the next morning on 4-hrs sleep, go to school, go to work, come home, try to study, try to work out, then check my phone before bed, just to prepare myself for another situation.
It's not that vicious a cycle. It's not everyday. It's maybe 3-times a week, but it's enough to keep me distracted. And some weeks I get through without hearing even one. But I don't offer thanks for the break, because there's no time to stop and thank when midterms come around. I also don't offer thanks because I know that I'm not being offered a break because I have a test that week, I'm being offered a break because everyone else has a mid-term that week!
It's kind of like the breaks at work; nobody cares that I didn't get to have breakfast, so I'm in fact eating breakfast from 3-4pm somewhere on Kingston road. Rather, it's simply most beneficial for the bank to schedule my breaks from 3-4, when Toronto's busy commuting, and have me tending to the lineups during peak hours. Then when things calm down around 4, I'll be back at my wicket, ready to serve.
I've never brought this up before, because I've never blamed my friends for this. If I resented my friends personally for this, I'd likely not still be their friend. I don't think many people even realise the full-effect of pouring out their grievances. A substance poured has to be caught by something. That something is me, the emotional sponge.
As with a sponge, sometimes you have to just keep pouring and pouring until it bleeds on its own before you realise that it can't hold anymore. This post is my blood. As with a sponge, most people are so self-satisfied after having finished cleaning the muck that they don't even care to ring the sponge out after they're done with it. At best, they give it a quick squeeze before discarding it for later use; we call those hugs in day-to-day life. So here I lay, soaked with emotional deposits and rank with foul-smelling sediments of sentiment.
I will even be so combative as to ask my friends, "How many hours of sleep have you sacrificed solely for my benefit? How many minutes?" If being a sponge isn't a strong enough analogy to convey the one-sidedness of my friendships, close and far, then let me further say this: I need help.
I need help because what I often get as friendship is mere ear-service, coupled-with uh-huh's and okays, tripled with relating my problem back to their own problems, quadrupled with vague impersonal maxims like, "Everything will end up fine," or "if it's meant to be..." or "that sucks, sorry!" But as much as I resent those phrases I don't even hate the deliverers of them, because behind each of those phrases lies the ultimate phrase, "I don't know what to say."
'I don't know what to say,' is enough to make me believe that people do care, but just can't help. But when you hear it time and again, you start to think that people just don't care to help. And a lot of the time, that's simply the truth. If you haven't heard from me in awhile, and my msn name (aka cry for help) has been shitty for a month, and I've been shaving less often than normal, eating more, and seem more distant, I hope that it isn't exam period, because if it is, I'll be dealing with myself all on my own.
A part of me, as I continue to write this post even wants to apologize for belittling my friendships, because I think my friends mean well. But no, not today.
I'm well aware of the 'holes' to my 'argument' like, "I'm not the easiest person to help" or "My friends aren't psychologists" or "Maybe if I just called all of them up to complain, I'd feel better too!" Actually I tried the last one out on Yoni for about a week, to no avail, I still feel like as much shit as I did yesterday. She tried. And as I write this post, I have Nicole messaging me on msn asking me if everything's okay. I lied as usual. Tonight I lied because I preferred to blog. Most night I lie because I just don't see the point.
"He's a complicated man, and no-one understands him but his woman." As most of you know, I am womanless, so cut the last part of that song out.
So yea, I could cover for my argument easily - and possibly should, what with my Art of Thinking midterm coming up soon - and I could prove that my friendships are one-sided. But I'm not trying to be right. I'm just tired.
My friendships and my grades to date are both mediocre.
Kinda ironic. I sought after mediation and ended up in mediocrity. I say my grades are mediocre because I'm tiptoeing between a B- and a C+ average. As for my friendships...
They feel very one-sided, for the most part. Some nights I stay up late just thinking about the emotional load that one or more of my friends has dropped on me, over coffee, over msn, or over the phone. Sometimes I can't fall asleep until I've come to a consensus about what to tell Tanya or Annie or Tampon or Yoni (or...) about their 'situation.' I wake up the next morning on 4-hrs sleep, go to school, go to work, come home, try to study, try to work out, then check my phone before bed, just to prepare myself for another situation.
It's not that vicious a cycle. It's not everyday. It's maybe 3-times a week, but it's enough to keep me distracted. And some weeks I get through without hearing even one. But I don't offer thanks for the break, because there's no time to stop and thank when midterms come around. I also don't offer thanks because I know that I'm not being offered a break because I have a test that week, I'm being offered a break because everyone else has a mid-term that week!
It's kind of like the breaks at work; nobody cares that I didn't get to have breakfast, so I'm in fact eating breakfast from 3-4pm somewhere on Kingston road. Rather, it's simply most beneficial for the bank to schedule my breaks from 3-4, when Toronto's busy commuting, and have me tending to the lineups during peak hours. Then when things calm down around 4, I'll be back at my wicket, ready to serve.
I've never brought this up before, because I've never blamed my friends for this. If I resented my friends personally for this, I'd likely not still be their friend. I don't think many people even realise the full-effect of pouring out their grievances. A substance poured has to be caught by something. That something is me, the emotional sponge.
As with a sponge, sometimes you have to just keep pouring and pouring until it bleeds on its own before you realise that it can't hold anymore. This post is my blood. As with a sponge, most people are so self-satisfied after having finished cleaning the muck that they don't even care to ring the sponge out after they're done with it. At best, they give it a quick squeeze before discarding it for later use; we call those hugs in day-to-day life. So here I lay, soaked with emotional deposits and rank with foul-smelling sediments of sentiment.
I will even be so combative as to ask my friends, "How many hours of sleep have you sacrificed solely for my benefit? How many minutes?" If being a sponge isn't a strong enough analogy to convey the one-sidedness of my friendships, close and far, then let me further say this: I need help.
I need help because what I often get as friendship is mere ear-service, coupled-with uh-huh's and okays, tripled with relating my problem back to their own problems, quadrupled with vague impersonal maxims like, "Everything will end up fine," or "if it's meant to be..." or "that sucks, sorry!" But as much as I resent those phrases I don't even hate the deliverers of them, because behind each of those phrases lies the ultimate phrase, "I don't know what to say."
'I don't know what to say,' is enough to make me believe that people do care, but just can't help. But when you hear it time and again, you start to think that people just don't care to help. And a lot of the time, that's simply the truth. If you haven't heard from me in awhile, and my msn name (aka cry for help) has been shitty for a month, and I've been shaving less often than normal, eating more, and seem more distant, I hope that it isn't exam period, because if it is, I'll be dealing with myself all on my own.
A part of me, as I continue to write this post even wants to apologize for belittling my friendships, because I think my friends mean well. But no, not today.
I'm well aware of the 'holes' to my 'argument' like, "I'm not the easiest person to help" or "My friends aren't psychologists" or "Maybe if I just called all of them up to complain, I'd feel better too!" Actually I tried the last one out on Yoni for about a week, to no avail, I still feel like as much shit as I did yesterday. She tried. And as I write this post, I have Nicole messaging me on msn asking me if everything's okay. I lied as usual. Tonight I lied because I preferred to blog. Most night I lie because I just don't see the point.
"He's a complicated man, and no-one understands him but his woman." As most of you know, I am womanless, so cut the last part of that song out.
So yea, I could cover for my argument easily - and possibly should, what with my Art of Thinking midterm coming up soon - and I could prove that my friendships are one-sided. But I'm not trying to be right. I'm just tired.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
How to Live Forever Young
1. Exercise Regularly
2. Eat according to necessity
3. Marry the woman of your dreams
4. Ensure the woman dies first
5. Transfer funds from woman's estate account to personal deposit account
6. Use funds to construct working model of Time Machine
7. Jump to era of scientific advancement involving adavanced cell-regeneration
8. Live forever young
--
9. (Optional) Use machine to scare the shit out of H.G. Wells
2. Eat according to necessity
3. Marry the woman of your dreams
4. Ensure the woman dies first
5. Transfer funds from woman's estate account to personal deposit account
6. Use funds to construct working model of Time Machine
7. Jump to era of scientific advancement involving adavanced cell-regeneration
8. Live forever young
--
9. (Optional) Use machine to scare the shit out of H.G. Wells
Monday, October 03, 2005
Losing touch
Man, what to say. What to say!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Bob Marley - Acoustic Medley (first part)
Baby I really love you now
I think you should stop your crying,
Here's my 'kerchief to dry your eyes
You know that I love you yea...
Damsel, here I am,
Come rub it fi mi belly like a guava jelly
Damsel, here I am,
Come rub it fi mi belly like a guava jelly
Strings... Woooooo
This train, is bound to glory, this train
Talkin bout how
This train, is bound to glory, this train
This train is bound to glory
This 'ere train carry nooo unholy, this train...
I'ma talkin bout, this traaain.
When I was a kid,
My momma used to sing a song,
Now I've grown to be a man,
Well it still lingers deep down in my soul,
I said it still lingers deeeep down in myyy soul,
This train, is bound to glory, this train
Talkin bout how
This train, is bound to glory, this train
This train is bound to glory
This 'ere train carry nooo unholy, this train...
I'ma talkin bout, this traaain.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
will aways be the head cornerstone.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
Your a buildah baby,
Baby here I am a stone..
Don't you pick and refuse me,
Cuz the things people refuse, are the things they should use
The things people refuse, are the things they should use
Do you hear me? Here what I said..
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
Your a buildah baby,
Baby here I am a stone..
Don't you pick and refuse me,
Cuz the things people refuse, are the things they should use
The things people refuse, are the things they should use
----
Do you hear me?
I think you should stop your crying,
Here's my 'kerchief to dry your eyes
You know that I love you yea...
Damsel, here I am,
Come rub it fi mi belly like a guava jelly
Damsel, here I am,
Come rub it fi mi belly like a guava jelly
Strings... Woooooo
This train, is bound to glory, this train
Talkin bout how
This train, is bound to glory, this train
This train is bound to glory
This 'ere train carry nooo unholy, this train...
I'ma talkin bout, this traaain.
When I was a kid,
My momma used to sing a song,
Now I've grown to be a man,
Well it still lingers deep down in my soul,
I said it still lingers deeeep down in myyy soul,
This train, is bound to glory, this train
Talkin bout how
This train, is bound to glory, this train
This train is bound to glory
This 'ere train carry nooo unholy, this train...
I'ma talkin bout, this traaain.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
will aways be the head cornerstone.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
Your a buildah baby,
Baby here I am a stone..
Don't you pick and refuse me,
Cuz the things people refuse, are the things they should use
The things people refuse, are the things they should use
Do you hear me? Here what I said..
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
The stone that the buildah refuse,
Will aways be the head cornerstone.
Your a buildah baby,
Baby here I am a stone..
Don't you pick and refuse me,
Cuz the things people refuse, are the things they should use
The things people refuse, are the things they should use
----
Do you hear me?
Monday, September 05, 2005
Katrina
If you ask me, the American Civil war never ended, it only manifested. Realising that the war would not be one with shotguns with poor range, the south sat back and decided they would win the war decades later with politics. Politics have a much larger range than a 12-pound mountain howitzer and is sharper than your average bowie knife, and in the recent days of Hurricane Katrina we're starting to get a clear understanding of this.
All of the southern states banded together a few years ago, and in an act of self-interest equivalent to - if not directly stemming from - the racial and social intersts from the colonial days, these states successfully reelected possibly the the most legitimately notorious American president of all time. Blacks are dying in the south, at the expense of some whites (sounds a lot like the civil war, a bunch of white folk sacrificing their lives so their children could have the right to own a black slave of their own) and the Bush administration is allowing it to happen.
Martial law is being imposed upon looters who are looting stores and stealing food, or at least stealing the means of purchasing food. I suppose someone ought to post a reminder, that the people of New Oreleans aren't in a position to enjoy the luxary of earning a honest wage and idling through supermarkets to decide on snacks to purchase. It should be noted that the national guard didn't show up at the Bush residence when Noelle Bush, George's neice, was caught shoplifting back in '95. I shouldn't use that incident to allude to Bush's hypocracy, after all he wasn't even in power yet. Who knows what he might have done in that case? Maybe he would have indeed had her shot.
Who knows what he might do next? That has been the theme of Bush's reign of terror, and the powers that be in the south are loving every minute of it. New Oreleans is sinking, but the south shall rise again!
All of the southern states banded together a few years ago, and in an act of self-interest equivalent to - if not directly stemming from - the racial and social intersts from the colonial days, these states successfully reelected possibly the the most legitimately notorious American president of all time. Blacks are dying in the south, at the expense of some whites (sounds a lot like the civil war, a bunch of white folk sacrificing their lives so their children could have the right to own a black slave of their own) and the Bush administration is allowing it to happen.
Martial law is being imposed upon looters who are looting stores and stealing food, or at least stealing the means of purchasing food. I suppose someone ought to post a reminder, that the people of New Oreleans aren't in a position to enjoy the luxary of earning a honest wage and idling through supermarkets to decide on snacks to purchase. It should be noted that the national guard didn't show up at the Bush residence when Noelle Bush, George's neice, was caught shoplifting back in '95. I shouldn't use that incident to allude to Bush's hypocracy, after all he wasn't even in power yet. Who knows what he might have done in that case? Maybe he would have indeed had her shot.
Who knows what he might do next? That has been the theme of Bush's reign of terror, and the powers that be in the south are loving every minute of it. New Oreleans is sinking, but the south shall rise again!
Deferred Membership
I think relaxed spirituality is easier to join in on when you're older.
"In Buddhism, there is no place for using effort. Just be ordinary and nothing special. Eat your food, move your bowels, pass water and when you're tired go and lie down. The ignorant will laugh at me, but the wise will understand."
-Bruce Lee, Tao of Jeet Kune Do (and likely a paraphrase from a Mahayanan text)
Wisdom comes with age. I accept my ignorance with neatly folded arms. I need not embrace this kind of ignorance, I am compelled to accept it for the most natural of reasons. I'm young and ambitious. That's not to say that I have any specific ambitions - at night I dream of what was rather than what will be - just the type of unfocused ambition that naturally comes with youth. Filled with thoughts of the lives that I might live, the dreams I might fulfill, the adventures that I might someday call my own, I can't expect myself to lay back and enjoy a peaceful existence.
Others like me like to believe that they can - some have successfully convinced themselves - but really it's a misled belief. People often say that after a rough week at work, or after a turbulant relationship, or other stressful passages; I think what they really mean to say is that they need a break from their lives. When it comes down to it, after a lengthy vacation, they'll be the first ones to push the envelope; the devil makes business for idle hands.
"In Buddhism, there is no place for using effort. Just be ordinary and nothing special. Eat your food, move your bowels, pass water and when you're tired go and lie down. The ignorant will laugh at me, but the wise will understand."
-Bruce Lee, Tao of Jeet Kune Do (and likely a paraphrase from a Mahayanan text)
Wisdom comes with age. I accept my ignorance with neatly folded arms. I need not embrace this kind of ignorance, I am compelled to accept it for the most natural of reasons. I'm young and ambitious. That's not to say that I have any specific ambitions - at night I dream of what was rather than what will be - just the type of unfocused ambition that naturally comes with youth. Filled with thoughts of the lives that I might live, the dreams I might fulfill, the adventures that I might someday call my own, I can't expect myself to lay back and enjoy a peaceful existence.
Others like me like to believe that they can - some have successfully convinced themselves - but really it's a misled belief. People often say that after a rough week at work, or after a turbulant relationship, or other stressful passages; I think what they really mean to say is that they need a break from their lives. When it comes down to it, after a lengthy vacation, they'll be the first ones to push the envelope; the devil makes business for idle hands.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
What a night
If my words could sing the sweet symphony of my sorrow, I might then be able to get over the anguish I carry with me each and every day. I could lay my pain down on paper for days and still I would be years behind schedule.
I wish things were simpler. Sometimes I even wish that I was simply upset about being undesirable to the opposite sex. If my problem was so linear it would be easier to sidestep. My pain however, is a helix of personal resentment. In and out and back around again, my own personal emotional roller coaster. Fat on some ends, slim on the others; good times preceding bad times, sometimes more closely than other times. With each twist and turn I revolve around the core fundamental truth that I am in fact undesirable to myself.
I'm left feeling completely empty. I apologize in advance to the next woman who dares to suggest she loves me, needs me, or even likes me; the onus is on her to validate me. I'm an emotional invalid. I am a wrapper of a shell of a man. I used to meet anguish with physical distress - headaches, general malaise and the like. Now I just look to left, wondering if that's where what was once inside of me has gone. I only know that it has left me. I only know that I am lost without it.
I'm speaking in tongue. In time I will speak in truth. I don't know the truth. I hope it's cold and hard.
I wish things were simpler. Sometimes I even wish that I was simply upset about being undesirable to the opposite sex. If my problem was so linear it would be easier to sidestep. My pain however, is a helix of personal resentment. In and out and back around again, my own personal emotional roller coaster. Fat on some ends, slim on the others; good times preceding bad times, sometimes more closely than other times. With each twist and turn I revolve around the core fundamental truth that I am in fact undesirable to myself.
I'm left feeling completely empty. I apologize in advance to the next woman who dares to suggest she loves me, needs me, or even likes me; the onus is on her to validate me. I'm an emotional invalid. I am a wrapper of a shell of a man. I used to meet anguish with physical distress - headaches, general malaise and the like. Now I just look to left, wondering if that's where what was once inside of me has gone. I only know that it has left me. I only know that I am lost without it.
I'm speaking in tongue. In time I will speak in truth. I don't know the truth. I hope it's cold and hard.
Monday, August 29, 2005
What a day
Tired of the hunger I see on people's faces, tired of the animosity between the races, tired of corruption in high and low places, and bricks with money but no social graces. Tired of being judged for the style of my hair, the music that I listen and the clothes that I wear. Tired of life and death being sold as a pair and, politicians who keep saying they care. Maybe hoping for a change is a dream, maybe life aint as bad as it seems, but if dreaming is the best I can do then I'll be dreaming my whole life through.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa, whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach and love aint just a concept we preach and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day!
Tired of leaving church feeling like I've just been robbed; two hours of rambling not much mention of God. The richest man is the only one who does not have a job, a bunch of righteous freaks extorting words in a mob. Tired of baby mama, tired of baby daddy, chilling in the spot where the parents should be. Teenage mother saying "Leave my babies alone!" In 20 years that kid could be robbing my home! I got a vision of a whole other plane, where the spiritual can flourish again, I'm just-a-waiting for the fire to rain, bun down everything and start clean.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach, and love aint just a concept we preach, and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day now! Oooo what a day now!
Maybe hoping for a change is a dream, maybe life isn't as bad as it seems, but if dreaming is the best I can do then I'll be dreaming my whole life through.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! When unity aint just a word in our vocabulary; I'll help you even where there aint nobody to see. You can believe it, believe in me! Whooooa!
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach and love aint just a concept we preach and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day now! Oooo what a day now! What a day, what a day, what a day...
-Tanya Stephens, "What A Day"
The words are so beautiful, you can even write it in paragraph form without losing its profundity. This is the song that surrounds me as I ride the bus and walk the streets.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa, whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach and love aint just a concept we preach and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day!
Tired of leaving church feeling like I've just been robbed; two hours of rambling not much mention of God. The richest man is the only one who does not have a job, a bunch of righteous freaks extorting words in a mob. Tired of baby mama, tired of baby daddy, chilling in the spot where the parents should be. Teenage mother saying "Leave my babies alone!" In 20 years that kid could be robbing my home! I got a vision of a whole other plane, where the spiritual can flourish again, I'm just-a-waiting for the fire to rain, bun down everything and start clean.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach, and love aint just a concept we preach, and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day now! Oooo what a day now!
Maybe hoping for a change is a dream, maybe life isn't as bad as it seems, but if dreaming is the best I can do then I'll be dreaming my whole life through.
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! When unity aint just a word in our vocabulary; I'll help you even where there aint nobody to see. You can believe it, believe in me! Whooooa!
What a day when war becomes a thing of the past, and peace we will have it at last, and life is finally worth its cost and whoa, whoa whoa! What a day when men finally live what they teach and love aint just a concept we preach and blood no longer runs in the streets, whoa whoa whoa, what a day now! Oooo what a day now! What a day, what a day, what a day...
-Tanya Stephens, "What A Day"
The words are so beautiful, you can even write it in paragraph form without losing its profundity. This is the song that surrounds me as I ride the bus and walk the streets.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Looking forward
I want to be terrific. I think we all do, but I don't care what other people want right now.
I don't want to have a child until I'm ready to have one, in every way. I think that's about a decade away. Another 8 to 10 years ought to do me right. I don't want to wait too long although; I want to be able to play soccer with him and teach him to climb fences and duck the po-lice.
I want to be a terrific author, with a vast knowledge of my largely important subject matter. I would hate to end up as one of those writers you see on the internet each day, writing opinionated peices on subjects they scarcely understand. That I think is one of my greater fears of the future. I think the most comforting thing about credentials and acclaim is the empowerment it brings, giving you permission to pass judgement on life or at least a part. I don't want to be a self-proclaimed anything, because self-proclamation is the easiest currency in the world to buy, and the hardest to sell. I would be devastated to find out someday that for the length of my career, while I thought I was looking down at the people from my intellecual hightower - watching them mindlessly sort through their everyday lives - I was in fact gazing down on a deceptive mirror of arrogance, which was reflecting the image of the townspeople as they carry on with their lives floating high above me, mocking my ignorance.
It's hard writing about people, because ultimately all generalizations about people are false. Funny, far-reaching or insightful as they may be, generalizations will never apply to everyone - somebody will fall through the net and prove me wrong, either naturally or on purpose. It's actually pretty easy writing about myself, I could go on for days (in fact, for maybe 20 years or so) but that wouldn't be alligned with my goal. Goal, you say? Yes, I have a goal.
I want my words to be of help. I think about all the philosophy throughout the ages that has been written sometimes. I think about the Greeks writing about logic and absolute truths, in an effort to help people understand that there is a world outside of the trading of goats for coin and coin for bread, to help them understand that the realm of knowledge offers possibilities far beyond what the physical realm gives us access to. I think about the Chinese and Indians, giving light to the spirituality of nature and all things under the sun, even human constructs. I think of the logicians of the last few hundred years, trying to get past to cloak of mysticism brought on by centuries of blind adherence to religion and practice. I think of the scientists of the last hundred years, trying to find the ultimate truth of the universe, and on the way tapping into the subtleties of the universe and exploiting them for what seems beneficial for mankind. The ages will never forget these waves of human intellect for probably the most simple of reasons - they helped. They helped elevate mankind to a higher, more complicated, more developed level of existence. [expand]
I think there's a part of each and every one of us that appreciates this elevation. If I were forced to quickly ascribe a purpose to the whole of human existence, I think I would have to say something along the lines of "preparing ourselves for level 8." We all know we're not going to make your way through the castle and save the princess and defeat Bowser if you're that tiny Mario that can't even jump high and has no flower power ammunition. But even with all of those at our disposal, if we have no concept of the game, without having suffered through the levels, messing with shrooms, crawling through sewers and dodging the attacks of the lesser species, we'll still be helpless at completing the game.
Likewise, our world is making fast progress at a continually accelerating rate, we're constantly equipping ourselves with 'super mario powers,' but we're all so new to the game that it's hard to know how to use them. In some aspects, there's no room for mistakes. Our society has created the most dangerous of weapons with the greatest power ever, but we're so confused as to how to use them that we've actually decided to simply point them at ourselves. It becomes the work of a select few to continually let the people know the capabilities and implications that are attached to this progress, teaching the people how to play the game properly, completing the preparation for level 8.
It would be terrific if my work was a part of this. I would be terrific if my work was a part of this.
I don't want to have a child until I'm ready to have one, in every way. I think that's about a decade away. Another 8 to 10 years ought to do me right. I don't want to wait too long although; I want to be able to play soccer with him and teach him to climb fences and duck the po-lice.
I want to be a terrific author, with a vast knowledge of my largely important subject matter. I would hate to end up as one of those writers you see on the internet each day, writing opinionated peices on subjects they scarcely understand. That I think is one of my greater fears of the future. I think the most comforting thing about credentials and acclaim is the empowerment it brings, giving you permission to pass judgement on life or at least a part. I don't want to be a self-proclaimed anything, because self-proclamation is the easiest currency in the world to buy, and the hardest to sell. I would be devastated to find out someday that for the length of my career, while I thought I was looking down at the people from my intellecual hightower - watching them mindlessly sort through their everyday lives - I was in fact gazing down on a deceptive mirror of arrogance, which was reflecting the image of the townspeople as they carry on with their lives floating high above me, mocking my ignorance.
It's hard writing about people, because ultimately all generalizations about people are false. Funny, far-reaching or insightful as they may be, generalizations will never apply to everyone - somebody will fall through the net and prove me wrong, either naturally or on purpose. It's actually pretty easy writing about myself, I could go on for days (in fact, for maybe 20 years or so) but that wouldn't be alligned with my goal. Goal, you say? Yes, I have a goal.
I want my words to be of help. I think about all the philosophy throughout the ages that has been written sometimes. I think about the Greeks writing about logic and absolute truths, in an effort to help people understand that there is a world outside of the trading of goats for coin and coin for bread, to help them understand that the realm of knowledge offers possibilities far beyond what the physical realm gives us access to. I think about the Chinese and Indians, giving light to the spirituality of nature and all things under the sun, even human constructs. I think of the logicians of the last few hundred years, trying to get past to cloak of mysticism brought on by centuries of blind adherence to religion and practice. I think of the scientists of the last hundred years, trying to find the ultimate truth of the universe, and on the way tapping into the subtleties of the universe and exploiting them for what seems beneficial for mankind. The ages will never forget these waves of human intellect for probably the most simple of reasons - they helped. They helped elevate mankind to a higher, more complicated, more developed level of existence. [expand]
I think there's a part of each and every one of us that appreciates this elevation. If I were forced to quickly ascribe a purpose to the whole of human existence, I think I would have to say something along the lines of "preparing ourselves for level 8." We all know we're not going to make your way through the castle and save the princess and defeat Bowser if you're that tiny Mario that can't even jump high and has no flower power ammunition. But even with all of those at our disposal, if we have no concept of the game, without having suffered through the levels, messing with shrooms, crawling through sewers and dodging the attacks of the lesser species, we'll still be helpless at completing the game.
Likewise, our world is making fast progress at a continually accelerating rate, we're constantly equipping ourselves with 'super mario powers,' but we're all so new to the game that it's hard to know how to use them. In some aspects, there's no room for mistakes. Our society has created the most dangerous of weapons with the greatest power ever, but we're so confused as to how to use them that we've actually decided to simply point them at ourselves. It becomes the work of a select few to continually let the people know the capabilities and implications that are attached to this progress, teaching the people how to play the game properly, completing the preparation for level 8.
It would be terrific if my work was a part of this. I would be terrific if my work was a part of this.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Laptop keyboards piss me off
It's mid-August. Nobody ever admits it but when August hits the summer is pretty much over. Pants become the executive decision as nights are cooler. Those who are wise use this time to get a jump on the school year. Back to school shopping when we were young was a way of training us for the rest of our academic lives. We ought to use this time to conclude job searching if necessary, indeed to stock up on discount school supplies, to prepare one's semester-long macroschedule, to mentally prepare oneself for the next 4 months and so on. I won't recap on my summer, it's depressing to look back. There are so many things I wanted to do that didn't get done. This post included. My fingers hurt from typing on this thing. Poor ergonomics, i think.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
It's late
I should give thanks to my friend Ronnie. I'm not sure where he got the quote, or whether it was a Ronnie original, but on his blog he once wrote something about being a writer, it went something along the lines of, "As a writer, when you're not writing, you're reading." Simple enough, but largely applicable to my state of affairs.
I think that's going to be me for awhile. Less words delivered, more words in receipt.
Before I go, I'd like to mention that the post below was written in the midst of probably the best weekend I've had all summer, so lest anyone begin to think my weekend involved me beginning to hate my friends, I must correct you by mentioning that I can't remember having as much fun with all of these guys.
On the other hand, I did spend parts of the weekend trying to read Ecce Homo by Nietzsche, and in his forward he mentioned that, "The man of knowledge not only loves his enemies but hates his friends." So either way I guess.
I think that's going to be me for awhile. Less words delivered, more words in receipt.
Before I go, I'd like to mention that the post below was written in the midst of probably the best weekend I've had all summer, so lest anyone begin to think my weekend involved me beginning to hate my friends, I must correct you by mentioning that I can't remember having as much fun with all of these guys.
On the other hand, I did spend parts of the weekend trying to read Ecce Homo by Nietzsche, and in his forward he mentioned that, "The man of knowledge not only loves his enemies but hates his friends." So either way I guess.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
From a saturday morning after drinking...
I remember in highschool we had a friend who looked like Shrek personified. He hated it when we would tease him endlessly about this relationship. I never gave him peace from this frustration, as it gave me great pleasure to point out his similarity. I suppose this entry is a way of saying that he got the last laugh.
I enjoyed teasing him about it so much because I knew then, as I know now, that in actualy I am the real Shrek. I've always felt like the big ogre in the group, and the group has always made me feel like the big ogre. The natural tendancy of my presense is to scare people away, in a regular ogre-like fashion. To compensate for the fear brought on by my oversized presence, I've armed myself with an over-developed sense of humour. With each delivery of comical genius, the ogre's ogerness is looked past, as the townspeople begin to see that their fears are unwarranted.
I don't mind mentioning at this point that in fact all of my closest friendships have been founded on this principle of motivated humour. I suppose that at the face of it there's a natural and optimistic macro-explanation for all of this. After all, everybody uses the tools afforded to them to achieve their goals - a samurai will use his sword. All the same, in the face of things, as much as my humour allows me to walk the streets of the township without fears of subsequent pitchfork attacks, I'm reminded every-so-often that I infact am not a townsperson, I remain an ogre. Subtlety is harder than most people think.
I enjoyed teasing him about it so much because I knew then, as I know now, that in actualy I am the real Shrek. I've always felt like the big ogre in the group, and the group has always made me feel like the big ogre. The natural tendancy of my presense is to scare people away, in a regular ogre-like fashion. To compensate for the fear brought on by my oversized presence, I've armed myself with an over-developed sense of humour. With each delivery of comical genius, the ogre's ogerness is looked past, as the townspeople begin to see that their fears are unwarranted.
I don't mind mentioning at this point that in fact all of my closest friendships have been founded on this principle of motivated humour. I suppose that at the face of it there's a natural and optimistic macro-explanation for all of this. After all, everybody uses the tools afforded to them to achieve their goals - a samurai will use his sword. All the same, in the face of things, as much as my humour allows me to walk the streets of the township without fears of subsequent pitchfork attacks, I'm reminded every-so-often that I infact am not a townsperson, I remain an ogre. Subtlety is harder than most people think.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
I'm an aspiring writer
I thought up an idea for a short story I could write. I'm not going to let the cat out of the bag although, so I guess sorry for all of this unnecessary suspence. I think this is one of those stories that needs to come out and just surprise everyone upon surfacing. That is, if I write it properly. In any case, I'd have to hold off on publicly announcing my idea on this blog, for fear that my someone of my myriad of readers might feel inclined to jack my shit! It was weird how I came about it although. I thought up the idea, and then as I continued to type it out on my phone, the idea just kept growing and growing. I got tired of typing it out after awhile, but the idea just kept multiplying upon itself. It'll have a coming-of-age theme to it, with definite philosophical implications. I'm probably going to start writing it later this month, and continue on during the year while I'm doing my independent study. Wish me luck.
"I'm not a writer, you're not a writer unless people are reading your shit. I'm an aspiring writer."
"I'm not a writer, you're not a writer unless people are reading your shit. I'm an aspiring writer."
I'm getting it now...
Today was a light day at the bank, we had a few phases with no customers. My coworkers at that branch are okay, but I like my mornings quiet, so I opted for quiet thought when I could. I was reflecting on how I decided that I am the type of person who needs seclusion to get over the past. I enjoy time to just kick back and detach myself from the goings on, I think that gives me the perspective that I need to get past myself - that is, the self that I refer to as my own before such time of seclusion. In any case, I came upon an immediate conclusion: I hate work mostly for this reason.
I mean, the pay could be better, and I don't enjoy standing all day, and there's nothing glamorous about customer service, but all of that I can deal with. But as much as I am tolerant towards CSR work and its woes, it's the absolute worst thing for me now. Seclusion and customer service are polar concepts. Not only must I spend my days knee-deep in social obligaitons and the like in the company that i do enjoy, but at work I spend my day chuckling to the humour of 70-90 year old european men, dealing with the frustrations of angry scammers, trying to pawn off cheques on our precious banking system and so on. My sanity is always being tested at the bank, as seclusion recedes further into unlikeliness. I don't mind the bank so much during school. I go to a branch, I spend 5 hours making deposits and verifying cheques and the million other things you can do in banking, then I come back home and return to schoolwork. Not bad, heating in the winter, air con in the summer.
That's all for now, I can feel the thoughts are coming back to me. I will resume writing in the near future... possibly in the immediate future. But for right now, I'm enjoying good conversation. Seclusion? Maybe later. But that's okay today.
I mean, the pay could be better, and I don't enjoy standing all day, and there's nothing glamorous about customer service, but all of that I can deal with. But as much as I am tolerant towards CSR work and its woes, it's the absolute worst thing for me now. Seclusion and customer service are polar concepts. Not only must I spend my days knee-deep in social obligaitons and the like in the company that i do enjoy, but at work I spend my day chuckling to the humour of 70-90 year old european men, dealing with the frustrations of angry scammers, trying to pawn off cheques on our precious banking system and so on. My sanity is always being tested at the bank, as seclusion recedes further into unlikeliness. I don't mind the bank so much during school. I go to a branch, I spend 5 hours making deposits and verifying cheques and the million other things you can do in banking, then I come back home and return to schoolwork. Not bad, heating in the winter, air con in the summer.
That's all for now, I can feel the thoughts are coming back to me. I will resume writing in the near future... possibly in the immediate future. But for right now, I'm enjoying good conversation. Seclusion? Maybe later. But that's okay today.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Quote of the Day
"It's funny how people only say that after they do something bad. I mean, you never hear somebody say, 'I'm only human' after they save a kid from a burning building or something."
-From, The United States of Leland
-From, The United States of Leland
Monday, August 01, 2005
Raindrops lead to blogging, and blogging to thinking
Raindrops...
I used to watch the raindrops fall at night. To me the pitter-patter of raindrops is the most soothing sound in the world. From my window, I would watch each drop hit the pavement underneath the streetlight in front of my house. I was at peace. I was so enthrawled by the rainfall that I would lower my guard and accept the world for a change. Later I began to have a passing fear that a monster would startle me during my rest and exploit my embrace of the rainfall, using this opportunity to prey on me. Only sometimes although, when my mind was plagued with submerged fears. I loved how the rain would sometimes beat down on the city, everything else would hault. For an hour maybe it would be just the rain and the earth, then the rain would let up and the cars would drive around through the wet streets. Streaking through the fallen rain, the puddles would play a symphony of nature, the storm was over. That was nice, but back to work.
Blogging...
I haven't blogged in a couple weeks. I haven't written much otherwise all summer. The answer to why can be found in my post on conviction.
Thinking...
I'm thinking it's late.
I used to watch the raindrops fall at night. To me the pitter-patter of raindrops is the most soothing sound in the world. From my window, I would watch each drop hit the pavement underneath the streetlight in front of my house. I was at peace. I was so enthrawled by the rainfall that I would lower my guard and accept the world for a change. Later I began to have a passing fear that a monster would startle me during my rest and exploit my embrace of the rainfall, using this opportunity to prey on me. Only sometimes although, when my mind was plagued with submerged fears. I loved how the rain would sometimes beat down on the city, everything else would hault. For an hour maybe it would be just the rain and the earth, then the rain would let up and the cars would drive around through the wet streets. Streaking through the fallen rain, the puddles would play a symphony of nature, the storm was over. That was nice, but back to work.
Blogging...
I haven't blogged in a couple weeks. I haven't written much otherwise all summer. The answer to why can be found in my post on conviction.
Thinking...
I'm thinking it's late.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Thoughts from a weekend of relaxation...
Do you remember what it sounded like the first time you said you'll never drink again? It sounded like lying! My legs itch worse than they have for a long while. Insects meet for brunch at 2am it seems. Everybody here has a distinct snore, each one follows its own distinct pattern. I've had mine recorded before, it sounded familiar. Maybe there is some genetics involved in snoring.
Nights are so calm, meditation must be even more transcendent for the nocturnal. Or maybe less transcendent, since there's less to get past. Regardless, when the tiny wavelettes gently splash against the rocks in the still of the night, you can really start to embrace the loudness of silence. Right eye closing.
-This is what I scribbled into my little electronic journal at 2:30 am, up in cottage country, waiting for a drunken friend to sober up enough to fall asleep without fear of the morning. I had a few drinks myself, and took quite a few hefty pulls from the shesha. Sometimes I wonder how artists like Bob can be so in touch with the source of their art under the influence. I'm not altogether happy with what I wrote above - one or two parts I even slightly changed because I just couldn't stand the way I wrote it originally. I've left it mostly unchanged although to make a point; I'm not overly happy with it. I either have to smoke and drink a lot more or a lot less during my writing quests to unleash the raw power of my literary genius. Time will tell.
Nights are so calm, meditation must be even more transcendent for the nocturnal. Or maybe less transcendent, since there's less to get past. Regardless, when the tiny wavelettes gently splash against the rocks in the still of the night, you can really start to embrace the loudness of silence. Right eye closing.
-This is what I scribbled into my little electronic journal at 2:30 am, up in cottage country, waiting for a drunken friend to sober up enough to fall asleep without fear of the morning. I had a few drinks myself, and took quite a few hefty pulls from the shesha. Sometimes I wonder how artists like Bob can be so in touch with the source of their art under the influence. I'm not altogether happy with what I wrote above - one or two parts I even slightly changed because I just couldn't stand the way I wrote it originally. I've left it mostly unchanged although to make a point; I'm not overly happy with it. I either have to smoke and drink a lot more or a lot less during my writing quests to unleash the raw power of my literary genius. Time will tell.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Interruption
A big pet peeve of mine is interruption. No matter how uninterested I am in what someone is saying I personally feel awkward interrupting their train of thought. Often, not only when interrupting someone's words but even when interrupting the flow of the conversation I'll say, "sorry" or "as an aside" so as not to rudely ignore the fact that the other person has something on their mind. I think sometimes that this might be my own personal disposition.
I hate it when someone says, "You've never said that" when in fact I have. Maybe I just talk too much, and maybe the other person simply for got, but sometimes I get the feeling that the other person just wasn't listening when I said it.
I hate it even more when I ask someone to repeat what I've just said, and they can't even do it. The game of broken telephone is supposed to involve more than 2 participants. If the words coming directly out of my mouth are too ambiguous than I question what mediums I can use that will get my message across. Maybe I talk funny, or my lisp is too pronounced, or the words that I use are incorrect, or the words themselves are being used correctly but their connotations smeer the message I am trying to get across, but sometimes I get the feeling that the other person wasn't really listening to what I was saying.
I get absolutely red with rage when I'm in the middle of a sentence, and someone interjects with a completely separate sentence. Like if I were to say, "Yea so today I was so mad..." and "I know of a great place to get sushi," are the words that completely truncate my thoughts and feelings. I'm getting that a lot lately, from a few people. I think that's it's the rudest thing to do in conversation. I mean to completely interrupt my words shows that what I was saying was of absolutely no value to them, and I begin to question whether what I say is ever of value to them, even when they don't interrupt me. I can't remember the last time anyone interrupted one of my entertaining anecdotes or words of flattery, but when I have something to say about just me, or my day, I almost have to race with my words to get it all out before the other party let's me in on whatever was on their mind while I was talking to them.
Maybe that's why I use MSN, you can't totally ignore me unless you block me or go offline while I'm talking. Actually people often go offline while I'm talking. We all have computer problems although, I'm sure that's all it ever is - at least I think so. But that's not important. What's important is, I'm beginning to remember why I used to keep to myself on the subject of myself. Interruption is like utter rejection, and rejection hurts.
I hate it when someone says, "You've never said that" when in fact I have. Maybe I just talk too much, and maybe the other person simply for got, but sometimes I get the feeling that the other person just wasn't listening when I said it.
I hate it even more when I ask someone to repeat what I've just said, and they can't even do it. The game of broken telephone is supposed to involve more than 2 participants. If the words coming directly out of my mouth are too ambiguous than I question what mediums I can use that will get my message across. Maybe I talk funny, or my lisp is too pronounced, or the words that I use are incorrect, or the words themselves are being used correctly but their connotations smeer the message I am trying to get across, but sometimes I get the feeling that the other person wasn't really listening to what I was saying.
I get absolutely red with rage when I'm in the middle of a sentence, and someone interjects with a completely separate sentence. Like if I were to say, "Yea so today I was so mad..." and "I know of a great place to get sushi," are the words that completely truncate my thoughts and feelings. I'm getting that a lot lately, from a few people. I think that's it's the rudest thing to do in conversation. I mean to completely interrupt my words shows that what I was saying was of absolutely no value to them, and I begin to question whether what I say is ever of value to them, even when they don't interrupt me. I can't remember the last time anyone interrupted one of my entertaining anecdotes or words of flattery, but when I have something to say about just me, or my day, I almost have to race with my words to get it all out before the other party let's me in on whatever was on their mind while I was talking to them.
Maybe that's why I use MSN, you can't totally ignore me unless you block me or go offline while I'm talking. Actually people often go offline while I'm talking. We all have computer problems although, I'm sure that's all it ever is - at least I think so. But that's not important. What's important is, I'm beginning to remember why I used to keep to myself on the subject of myself. Interruption is like utter rejection, and rejection hurts.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Sunday
I've been growing a crack nail for a couple weeks. Not for functional reasons; the world of cocaine actually terrifies me, probably with good cause. Actually i've been growning this nail out of sheer laziness. The littlest things have seemed like the hardest things to accomplish lately. You know, like paying my bills (just going online and paying them, not makign the money) cutting my nails, getting out of bed in the morning, keeping my room clean. One more indication of clinical depression to add to the list.
I've decided I don't really care for words of reassurance anymore. Nobody understands, nobody will. Some may think they can. That only insults me more, generalizing my pain, or associating it with something non-personal. "It's as though my pain isn't mine, like I feel this way just because every other guy..."
I feel like Cheeko from Lords of Flatbush. Watch the movie, I'm not going to explain. I only mentioned that because it was playing as I wrote this. In any case, the fact is I'm burdened by the glass ceiling romantically. This has had backlashes on my emotions, so a change is in need. Unlike the fly in a jar, I potentially have the ability to transcend my dillemma but potential is misleading. I'm confused. I'm...confused. But I'll think about, then understand. Pray for mojo.
I've decided I don't really care for words of reassurance anymore. Nobody understands, nobody will. Some may think they can. That only insults me more, generalizing my pain, or associating it with something non-personal. "It's as though my pain isn't mine, like I feel this way just because every other guy..."
I feel like Cheeko from Lords of Flatbush. Watch the movie, I'm not going to explain. I only mentioned that because it was playing as I wrote this. In any case, the fact is I'm burdened by the glass ceiling romantically. This has had backlashes on my emotions, so a change is in need. Unlike the fly in a jar, I potentially have the ability to transcend my dillemma but potential is misleading. I'm confused. I'm...confused. But I'll think about, then understand. Pray for mojo.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
It starts with just one beer
I don't drink alone, and I don't drink at home. Both of the preceding claims have just been thrown out the window. To my right is a bottle of Heineken. Sounds like alcoholism is in the midst. My friend Annie just blogged about her newly discovered alcoholism, so I guess that makes me a no good follow-fashion. I'll drink to that.
You know, I could have been Dutch. My parents were considering moving there before my conception. Then I would have been born in the land of Heineken. Plus I would have been exposed to world-class futebol. I would've been a Jamaican living in the European capital of marijuana. This ample supply of ganja, and my consequent desire to indulge in it, would've opened to me various philosophical doors to which I am so rarely exposed here in the borough. With legal prostitution, and the inquisitive nature of youth, I would have no reason to lament over girl problems, as the solution would always be easily accessible. Every other world cup is in europe, so I'd rarely have to pay airfare. Being dutch would have its upsides for me.
You know, I could have been Dutch. My parents were considering moving there before my conception. Then I would have been born in the land of Heineken. Plus I would have been exposed to world-class futebol. I would've been a Jamaican living in the European capital of marijuana. This ample supply of ganja, and my consequent desire to indulge in it, would've opened to me various philosophical doors to which I am so rarely exposed here in the borough. With legal prostitution, and the inquisitive nature of youth, I would have no reason to lament over girl problems, as the solution would always be easily accessible. Every other world cup is in europe, so I'd rarely have to pay airfare. Being dutch would have its upsides for me.
Insensitive
They just showed this guy, Mr. Cochran, on the news. He's the president of CUPE. When the president of your country's biggest union weighs close to 300 pounds or maybe more, you start to wonder where your union dues are going.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Making babysteps towards profundity
The afternoon breeze is like a pen with an endless supply of ink. The leaves are the pages and the passage of time the story. For every story there is a reader, and for every reader there is an interpretation.
The beauty of art depends foremost on the beauty of the artist and his ability to lay this beauty down on his instrument; on the canvas, on the paper. We don't yet know who wrote the story on the leaves - we've heard a few of his pen names - regardless the leaves let us know that his heart is beautiful. The beauty of art depends secondly on the beauty of the voyeur, and his capacity or willingness to accept the artist's beauty in his own heart.
For the longest time I've been blind to this beauty. Mistaking the leaves for the tree, and the tree for the forest, I've missed out on so many levels of the story of nature. Beauty is like sunlight, and through the smallest crack it can find its way through, like today. Today I have a chance to enjoy the story. Today each leaf tells its own story. The trees regain their beauty, the forest its depth.
The beauty of art depends foremost on the beauty of the artist and his ability to lay this beauty down on his instrument; on the canvas, on the paper. We don't yet know who wrote the story on the leaves - we've heard a few of his pen names - regardless the leaves let us know that his heart is beautiful. The beauty of art depends secondly on the beauty of the voyeur, and his capacity or willingness to accept the artist's beauty in his own heart.
For the longest time I've been blind to this beauty. Mistaking the leaves for the tree, and the tree for the forest, I've missed out on so many levels of the story of nature. Beauty is like sunlight, and through the smallest crack it can find its way through, like today. Today I have a chance to enjoy the story. Today each leaf tells its own story. The trees regain their beauty, the forest its depth.
Monday, June 27, 2005
My head tells me.....C.R.E.A.M.
My mind is riddled with thought. Lately I've been able to feel them as they pass through me - an anarchaic jumble of frustrations, lamentations, worries and anticipations. They say when the mind is still and free of thought the process of inner peace begins. Only then can I transcend the worldly conflicts that plague me. I calmly carry myself out and about, but I am in fact at conflict with myself.
I have responsibilities which cannot be ignored. Even a relaxing summer break stands in the way of self-discovery. My mind is surely not relaxed this summer, so I've compensated myself with physical relaxation. This will have to change, as I am in fact cheating myself - the compensation isn't enough. To get around the bills, the worries, the ladies, the stress, the jobs, I'll simply substitute deliberation for action. After much effort otherwise, I've realised that that's probably the best way to get my mind off of such things.
On a separate subject, or maybe partly on the same subject, I was thinking about money the other day. I wonder sometimes why money is so desired. I mean it seems obvious enough, money gets us stuff, and we want/need stuff - fair enough. But I think there's an untruthful perception of mankind out there regarding our money-loving ways.
We witness the corruption, greed and negative influence of money every day. Our politicians, our families, our schools, our worship houses, ourselves; we've all been exposed. It's no secret that money is the big evil force that drives our nations, while driving them apart, and yet we are quite apathetic to the misery money causes. We are well involved in the struggle between the rich and the poor, as well as the self-perpetuating need for mass consumerism, the degradation of our moral fibre, and the exploitation of those not-in-power. To all of this we seem to turn a blind eye. Capitalism reigns supreme and the persuit of money continues on. Why?
Are we all simply monsters of different proportions? Consumers and producers alike, each of us who do not dedicate ourselves to the abolition of this worldwide monetary system are all guilty of committing a crime against mankind! Our relative involvement in this system more or less describes the largeness of the crime we've committed. But no matter how powerful the words, and no matter how compelling the argument, those who decide to change their slavish ways and try to heal the world are few and far between. So we must be evil, the most of us. Our apprehension towards changing for the greater good must come from our natural evil instincts, right? Most who have given any thought on the matter would probably agree, at least to an extent, but I don't think so. I think by assuming mankind is evil, we're mistaking the cause for the symptom. We feel we are evil, because our apathy shows indications of evil, but what really causes our apathy?
Here's my take on it. It's late and I have dishes to wash, so I'll outline the jist of it. I think everybody has asked the following question; philosophy minors ask it quite often, philosophy majors likely ask it too often. What is the meaning of life? I think everyone has tried to answer it, philosophy minors have tried to answer it often, philosophy majors likely try to answer it too often. The fact is, we don't know, not for sure. We get an idea of what the answer should be through different means - faith, careers, family, achievements and the sort. One way or another, we give up on asking the question and we go out and simply live our lives. (Who says existentialism is a dead philosophy?)
When we decide to go out and live our lives, the most of us feel as though there are an infinite amount of things we can do with it. We hate limitations. We don't wish to be disabled (physically or mentally) we don't like careers that will go nowhere, we push for progress, we fight the clock, hate traffic and strive for security all because we hate limitations. As much as our days are numbered and our bodies are finite we love to feel as though our potential is endless. We yearn for endlessness, for infinity, and that's what money is, infinity.
Money doesn't just give us stuff, it gives us everything, from rocket ships to warm bread, and we want it all. Barter and trade slow down progress, and money creates the opportunity to act on limitless potential. Imagine constructing and flying a rocket to the moon under a barter system. Paying engineers in eggs and houses and sheep and women, instead of with the money, stock options and securities that they'll likely use to purchase them. (Yea, I slipped women in there on purpose, that's my joke against engineers for the day!) Whatever your worldly desires are, it can be achieved with money. Such things as lovvvvve, and friendship, and respect aren't really worldly. I mean, they exist in this world, but who can really say what love is, and where it exists? And I suppose respect can be purchased. All of those who enjoy the apprentice, don't argue otherwise.
Anyway, now I'm really tired, and I'm not getting marked on this essay. So really, all I'm saying is, we're not really just petty thieves, exploiting the poor so we can buy trinkets and fast food. We don't turn a blind eye towards those who suffer at the hands of the almighty dollar simply because we are evil. The real reason is, that money has embedded itself into the fundamental makeup of what it is to be human - a creature plagued with the desire to seek out the infinite and fully utilise its potential. How can you ask any creature, virtuous or not, to deny itself what it really means to be itself? You'll need quite the large motivating factor for that, not just white people holding skinny black children on World Vision, not just that.
"Cash Rules Everything Around Me,
C.R.E.A.M get da money,
Dolla Dolla Bill Y'all...."
O.D.B. of the Wu-Tang Clan
I have responsibilities which cannot be ignored. Even a relaxing summer break stands in the way of self-discovery. My mind is surely not relaxed this summer, so I've compensated myself with physical relaxation. This will have to change, as I am in fact cheating myself - the compensation isn't enough. To get around the bills, the worries, the ladies, the stress, the jobs, I'll simply substitute deliberation for action. After much effort otherwise, I've realised that that's probably the best way to get my mind off of such things.
On a separate subject, or maybe partly on the same subject, I was thinking about money the other day. I wonder sometimes why money is so desired. I mean it seems obvious enough, money gets us stuff, and we want/need stuff - fair enough. But I think there's an untruthful perception of mankind out there regarding our money-loving ways.
We witness the corruption, greed and negative influence of money every day. Our politicians, our families, our schools, our worship houses, ourselves; we've all been exposed. It's no secret that money is the big evil force that drives our nations, while driving them apart, and yet we are quite apathetic to the misery money causes. We are well involved in the struggle between the rich and the poor, as well as the self-perpetuating need for mass consumerism, the degradation of our moral fibre, and the exploitation of those not-in-power. To all of this we seem to turn a blind eye. Capitalism reigns supreme and the persuit of money continues on. Why?
Are we all simply monsters of different proportions? Consumers and producers alike, each of us who do not dedicate ourselves to the abolition of this worldwide monetary system are all guilty of committing a crime against mankind! Our relative involvement in this system more or less describes the largeness of the crime we've committed. But no matter how powerful the words, and no matter how compelling the argument, those who decide to change their slavish ways and try to heal the world are few and far between. So we must be evil, the most of us. Our apprehension towards changing for the greater good must come from our natural evil instincts, right? Most who have given any thought on the matter would probably agree, at least to an extent, but I don't think so. I think by assuming mankind is evil, we're mistaking the cause for the symptom. We feel we are evil, because our apathy shows indications of evil, but what really causes our apathy?
Here's my take on it. It's late and I have dishes to wash, so I'll outline the jist of it. I think everybody has asked the following question; philosophy minors ask it quite often, philosophy majors likely ask it too often. What is the meaning of life? I think everyone has tried to answer it, philosophy minors have tried to answer it often, philosophy majors likely try to answer it too often. The fact is, we don't know, not for sure. We get an idea of what the answer should be through different means - faith, careers, family, achievements and the sort. One way or another, we give up on asking the question and we go out and simply live our lives. (Who says existentialism is a dead philosophy?)
When we decide to go out and live our lives, the most of us feel as though there are an infinite amount of things we can do with it. We hate limitations. We don't wish to be disabled (physically or mentally) we don't like careers that will go nowhere, we push for progress, we fight the clock, hate traffic and strive for security all because we hate limitations. As much as our days are numbered and our bodies are finite we love to feel as though our potential is endless. We yearn for endlessness, for infinity, and that's what money is, infinity.
Money doesn't just give us stuff, it gives us everything, from rocket ships to warm bread, and we want it all. Barter and trade slow down progress, and money creates the opportunity to act on limitless potential. Imagine constructing and flying a rocket to the moon under a barter system. Paying engineers in eggs and houses and sheep and women, instead of with the money, stock options and securities that they'll likely use to purchase them. (Yea, I slipped women in there on purpose, that's my joke against engineers for the day!) Whatever your worldly desires are, it can be achieved with money. Such things as lovvvvve, and friendship, and respect aren't really worldly. I mean, they exist in this world, but who can really say what love is, and where it exists? And I suppose respect can be purchased. All of those who enjoy the apprentice, don't argue otherwise.
Anyway, now I'm really tired, and I'm not getting marked on this essay. So really, all I'm saying is, we're not really just petty thieves, exploiting the poor so we can buy trinkets and fast food. We don't turn a blind eye towards those who suffer at the hands of the almighty dollar simply because we are evil. The real reason is, that money has embedded itself into the fundamental makeup of what it is to be human - a creature plagued with the desire to seek out the infinite and fully utilise its potential. How can you ask any creature, virtuous or not, to deny itself what it really means to be itself? You'll need quite the large motivating factor for that, not just white people holding skinny black children on World Vision, not just that.
"Cash Rules Everything Around Me,
C.R.E.A.M get da money,
Dolla Dolla Bill Y'all...."
O.D.B. of the Wu-Tang Clan
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Some hoes are bitches
After this, I promise to do the dishes, I've been distracted all night. But I just got hit with a thought. It seems more bitter than it should be, because it's another far-reaching generalization of girls, but just implore me.
So I had this friend in elementary school Kerri. She used to be a crazy tomboy, getting into fights and swearing like a bad rapper all the time. Anyway, at the young age of probably 11 or so at the time, she happened to also be a commander of social dynamics. After the epidemic of coodies passes over, the golden rule between boys and girls is, "Never hit a girl.... In fact, just never touch them unless they ask." Kerri knew this rule all to well, and exploited it quite nicely.
While the boys would play redass Kerri would disrupt the game, catch the ball and throw it on the roof or somewhere to piss us off. Every guy would be pissed off and enter a swearing competition with her, and she always won. I found no fruit in this, so I would pretty much do nothing and accept that recess was ruined yet again. I think she noticed that her aggression left me unphased, and so she stepped it up with me. So, what Kerri would do is, for about a week, she would bring with her a legion of girls from our grade, and once again grab our tennis balls and roof them. Then, she would come up to me and go, "What're you gonna do about it Jamil?" and then push me or slap me, knowing full well that I couldn't hit a girl. In fact, sometimes she would say, "What're you going to do Jamil? Hit a girl?" followed by a push; absolute genius. She built enough rage in me during that week that almost 10 years later I still remember it, and the situation was very empowering for her, knowing that she had a new tool at her disposal. Why do I mention this?
Girls today are no different. Although, now it has become fashionable to smack a ho when she gets out of line, just so that she understands that your pimp hand is strong! The new tool for girls is physical attraction.
It's a matter of maturity for a man to be able to have a non-sexual relationship with a woman he's attracted to. If a man likes a girl, but the feelings aren't mutual, he should understand that in order for a healthy friendship to ensue, he will have to quit making sexual advances towards the girl, direct or indirect, because it will be uncomfortable for her. It's not as though the girl immediately should have control of the direction of the friendship, it's just a matter of integration. Comfortable relationships depend upon comfortable participants. If a straight guy were to be friends with a gay man, homophobic or not, the straight guy would eventually either consider the gay man's routine sexual advances to be frustrating, disconcerting or simply tiresome. This causes strain on the friendship.
A few girls use this as leverage, and it's completely unfair. As the days pass by, they fish for compliments about their physique, they make ambiguous suggestive remarks about their feelings for you and wear ridiculously attractive clothing around you, for seemingly no reason. Hair tossing, eye-batting, weak knees and pouty lips, adjustable bras and ass-hugging pants; the whole song and dance gets thrown at men in their friendships and work relationships with the opposite sex. If a man so much as responds to any of the elements of this routine, these girls in question - those girls who wish to exploit their tools - are the first to remind the guy that his level of maturity is on the line. But a man's willingness to respond to this routine is not a matter of maturity, it's a matter of physiology.
So we've now reached the contradiction that plagues man. First, I said that a man's ability to withstand his sexual urges during a friendship was a matter of maturity. A bit later, i said that his willingness to respond to the girly routine isn't a matter of maturity, but rather one of a physical nature. Contradiction causes confusion, confusion causes stress. How shall mankind transcend this female trap of sensations and temptation?
When Kerri would push me, I would simply walk into her pushes and slaps, and carry on with my reccess. After about a week of her realising that I was physically unphased by her assault, she gave up, and we resumed our regular friendship. I think she respected me more, in fact. I don't know if I'm strong enough to use the same technique anymore. If I turn away from the seduction of one exploitive girl, I am at the same time turning directly into the seductive path of another. Too many hoes are bitches. So I'm not sure how to save mankind on this one. Chinese philosophy is all about transcendence, so I recommend guys read the Tao de Ching for guidance, or maybe if the guys want to make a more practical forceful attack on the female army, I recommend Go Rin No Sho - the book of five rings; always use your short sword in close combat.
For me, I have one request for every girl who knows full-well that I'm sexually attracted to her. In the 90s, and probably still today, the company Brooks used to make horribly unnattractive sweats - like they were just unfashionably baggy and dull. I humbly request that each of you buy a pair or two of these Brooks sweatsuits, and wear them whenever we are scheduled to meet. You've all spent twice the amount of money buying clothing to piss me off, the least you can do is buy this for me to give me some peace!
So I had this friend in elementary school Kerri. She used to be a crazy tomboy, getting into fights and swearing like a bad rapper all the time. Anyway, at the young age of probably 11 or so at the time, she happened to also be a commander of social dynamics. After the epidemic of coodies passes over, the golden rule between boys and girls is, "Never hit a girl.... In fact, just never touch them unless they ask." Kerri knew this rule all to well, and exploited it quite nicely.
While the boys would play redass Kerri would disrupt the game, catch the ball and throw it on the roof or somewhere to piss us off. Every guy would be pissed off and enter a swearing competition with her, and she always won. I found no fruit in this, so I would pretty much do nothing and accept that recess was ruined yet again. I think she noticed that her aggression left me unphased, and so she stepped it up with me. So, what Kerri would do is, for about a week, she would bring with her a legion of girls from our grade, and once again grab our tennis balls and roof them. Then, she would come up to me and go, "What're you gonna do about it Jamil?" and then push me or slap me, knowing full well that I couldn't hit a girl. In fact, sometimes she would say, "What're you going to do Jamil? Hit a girl?" followed by a push; absolute genius. She built enough rage in me during that week that almost 10 years later I still remember it, and the situation was very empowering for her, knowing that she had a new tool at her disposal. Why do I mention this?
Girls today are no different. Although, now it has become fashionable to smack a ho when she gets out of line, just so that she understands that your pimp hand is strong! The new tool for girls is physical attraction.
It's a matter of maturity for a man to be able to have a non-sexual relationship with a woman he's attracted to. If a man likes a girl, but the feelings aren't mutual, he should understand that in order for a healthy friendship to ensue, he will have to quit making sexual advances towards the girl, direct or indirect, because it will be uncomfortable for her. It's not as though the girl immediately should have control of the direction of the friendship, it's just a matter of integration. Comfortable relationships depend upon comfortable participants. If a straight guy were to be friends with a gay man, homophobic or not, the straight guy would eventually either consider the gay man's routine sexual advances to be frustrating, disconcerting or simply tiresome. This causes strain on the friendship.
A few girls use this as leverage, and it's completely unfair. As the days pass by, they fish for compliments about their physique, they make ambiguous suggestive remarks about their feelings for you and wear ridiculously attractive clothing around you, for seemingly no reason. Hair tossing, eye-batting, weak knees and pouty lips, adjustable bras and ass-hugging pants; the whole song and dance gets thrown at men in their friendships and work relationships with the opposite sex. If a man so much as responds to any of the elements of this routine, these girls in question - those girls who wish to exploit their tools - are the first to remind the guy that his level of maturity is on the line. But a man's willingness to respond to this routine is not a matter of maturity, it's a matter of physiology.
So we've now reached the contradiction that plagues man. First, I said that a man's ability to withstand his sexual urges during a friendship was a matter of maturity. A bit later, i said that his willingness to respond to the girly routine isn't a matter of maturity, but rather one of a physical nature. Contradiction causes confusion, confusion causes stress. How shall mankind transcend this female trap of sensations and temptation?
When Kerri would push me, I would simply walk into her pushes and slaps, and carry on with my reccess. After about a week of her realising that I was physically unphased by her assault, she gave up, and we resumed our regular friendship. I think she respected me more, in fact. I don't know if I'm strong enough to use the same technique anymore. If I turn away from the seduction of one exploitive girl, I am at the same time turning directly into the seductive path of another. Too many hoes are bitches. So I'm not sure how to save mankind on this one. Chinese philosophy is all about transcendence, so I recommend guys read the Tao de Ching for guidance, or maybe if the guys want to make a more practical forceful attack on the female army, I recommend Go Rin No Sho - the book of five rings; always use your short sword in close combat.
For me, I have one request for every girl who knows full-well that I'm sexually attracted to her. In the 90s, and probably still today, the company Brooks used to make horribly unnattractive sweats - like they were just unfashionably baggy and dull. I humbly request that each of you buy a pair or two of these Brooks sweatsuits, and wear them whenever we are scheduled to meet. You've all spent twice the amount of money buying clothing to piss me off, the least you can do is buy this for me to give me some peace!
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Conviction
"When one really wants to write a poem, one writes it, and if one has the technique, so much the better; but why stress what is but a means of communication if one has nothing to say?"
-Jiddu Krishnamurti
-Jiddu Krishnamurti
Monday, June 13, 2005
Possibly my longest post ever. But for good reason.
So she picked me up at the house. We chatted as I finished getting ready, late as usual. She wore a pretty pink outfit. I mocked her for matching, but really I was impressed she looked decent. We drove down to Spring Rolls where we planned to have some dinner and shoot the shit. As we rolled up to the booth to pay for parking, I heard a guy behind me say, "Would you like mine?" Instinctively I turned around and darted towards him, knowing that he meant we could bum free parking off of him. That set the tone. She said to me, "You know, if this was a date, it sure started off perfectly, huh?"
We walked to Spring Rolls, as we entered we saw that there was one table left unoccupied on the patio outside, which is what we wanted, we figured it was reserved. We went inside and requested the table and it was ours. We ordered our meals, cantonese chow mein for myself, mango salad and some sort of thai chicken thing for her. Fluid conversation from years of friendship coupled with warm weather on the patio on front street. Less than 25 bucks combined and we were off to get some ice cream.
From this point on spontanaeity was our guide. We took Front to Yonge and decided instead of going north, why not go south and hit the lakeshore? Then we saw a mime. His appearance was as random as my mentioning of it. We reached the boardwalk and continued to joke about how this would make for the perfect date - you know, dinner followed by a walk along the boardwalk as the sun falls beneath the tall downtown buildings. We stopped at a couples spot and watched the sea for a bit, joked around pushing each other's buttons a bit. After seeing two or three ferries pass I said, "Hey why don't we head over to centre island?" I tried to scam cheap rates by claiming we were students, which we are. He caught me in my web of lies when he asked for my age and liscence although. I figured when I turned 19 getting carded would no longer pose a problem, kind of ironic.
I had a feeling the ferry would arrive and then depart just as the sun began to set. I'm becoming clarvoyant it seems. It was overcast although, which made for the perfect weather, but I guess not the perfect sunset. I took pictures all the same. We arrived at centre island and began our walk. She ponders, and then says, "It would just be perfect if there was like, a swan in that pond." Lo and behold, it appeared. We debated whether or not it was a real swan. I was right, as the neck finally moved there was no room for doubt. I'm not overly impressed by swans. Who cares if they're white? They simply don't interest me. We turned the corner and there were people playing soccer. We joked about how, she's such a miss cosmopolitan and seeing the swan was perfect for her, and I definitely was out and about in my soccer jersey, which is like my uniform, so the soccer was fitting for me. We walked and talked and took a few more pictures. Then we realized that we had reached Centreville.
Centreville was closed, but we were free to walk through it. Which basically meant that all the rides which we are too big to go on were closed, so we got to take a walk down memory lane looking at them, with no bratty kids around, in fact nobody around. Then we reached the petting zoo. The goats were playing with each other as we approached them. A couple was there feeding them. We didn't bother feeding them, so the goats amused themselves and us by cuddling with each other. We were both moved by the romantic vibe set forth by this gesture. Then we both laughed as this vibe was crushed by the gigantic shit one of the goats took. What animal plays and shits at the same time? Then we looked at the donkey, saw a pig sleeping (which was a first for both of us) and I think there was a horse. We took a few more photos as we left the petting zoo.
We arrived at a tiny bridge which traversed a tiny pond - sort of romantic. I had a bright idea at that point. There was a bench at the edge of the pond, I asked her to implore me and we sat on the bench and watched as the swans and geese swam around and enjoy themselves. By this time the sun had set even over the horizon. As we sat there, I scrolled through my phone and decided to play an mp3 from it, softly on speaker. It only took her about five seconds to realize that I was playing her favourite classical song, Canon. You see, she's already told me that she wants to play Pachelbel's classic at her wedding, and with my great taste in music of course I was playing Canon in D, performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra. She whimpered. I couldn't hold in the laughter. We joked about how on a real date, that would've pretty much sealed the deal, it was awesome, not to mention we were sitting in a perfect makeout point, with virtually nobody left in all of centreville. We got up and continued south.
We reached a highly arched bridge traversing what at first seemed to be an even larger pond. As I began up the bridge I started to say, "For the love of..." as I knew what I was about to see; the most beautiful view of the water from a bridge either of us have ever seen. We had to stay and soak it in for a bit. We stopped again. At this point we both had to admit that this was the most romantic night of either of our lives. Both of us had to admit that we wish we were sharing this moment with someone else, it was wasted on us. We continued on, took pictures in front of a beautiful fountain. Walked through a well-groomed garden pathway. At this point she said, "I think it's a dead end." But I had a feeling.
I said to her, "Well, you're half right." Indeed, it was a dead end, but it also happened to be a peer that stretched over the waters of Lake Ontario on the south edge of the island, such that we could gaze into the endless night sky, and if we wanted to, further still into each others eyes. We settled for the endless night sky; another moment to soak in. There was an old couple already there, but otherwise it was unoccupied. After chatting a bit and looking around, we picked up and left as the old couple left as well.
I forgot to mention that at this end of the island, there was an actual beach. So I took off my socks and shoes, she her flip flops, and we walked through the sand. There was a bunch of flatrocks along the shore, so we skipped a few rocks together. I was eventually successful, third try is a charm. It's been awhile for me. She simply sucked at it. We decided that when she takes a guy out on a similar date, she'll get him to hold her by the wayside and show her exactly how to skip rocks. We walked back from the beach, walked back along the island, walked back to the northern coast and waited for the ferry as we looked at downtown Toronto from the south, the southern skyline, fully illuminated under the night sky - a beautiful sight.
We took the ferry back, drawing closer and closer to this precious image until finally we were in the midst of it. Back downtown, back to reality. We walked back to the car, it started to drizzle as we reached the parking lot. We drove home and listened to some sweet sounding songs along the way. That was my sunday night. The memory of it will resonate for some time. I appreciate this night will all my heart.
We walked to Spring Rolls, as we entered we saw that there was one table left unoccupied on the patio outside, which is what we wanted, we figured it was reserved. We went inside and requested the table and it was ours. We ordered our meals, cantonese chow mein for myself, mango salad and some sort of thai chicken thing for her. Fluid conversation from years of friendship coupled with warm weather on the patio on front street. Less than 25 bucks combined and we were off to get some ice cream.
From this point on spontanaeity was our guide. We took Front to Yonge and decided instead of going north, why not go south and hit the lakeshore? Then we saw a mime. His appearance was as random as my mentioning of it. We reached the boardwalk and continued to joke about how this would make for the perfect date - you know, dinner followed by a walk along the boardwalk as the sun falls beneath the tall downtown buildings. We stopped at a couples spot and watched the sea for a bit, joked around pushing each other's buttons a bit. After seeing two or three ferries pass I said, "Hey why don't we head over to centre island?" I tried to scam cheap rates by claiming we were students, which we are. He caught me in my web of lies when he asked for my age and liscence although. I figured when I turned 19 getting carded would no longer pose a problem, kind of ironic.
I had a feeling the ferry would arrive and then depart just as the sun began to set. I'm becoming clarvoyant it seems. It was overcast although, which made for the perfect weather, but I guess not the perfect sunset. I took pictures all the same. We arrived at centre island and began our walk. She ponders, and then says, "It would just be perfect if there was like, a swan in that pond." Lo and behold, it appeared. We debated whether or not it was a real swan. I was right, as the neck finally moved there was no room for doubt. I'm not overly impressed by swans. Who cares if they're white? They simply don't interest me. We turned the corner and there were people playing soccer. We joked about how, she's such a miss cosmopolitan and seeing the swan was perfect for her, and I definitely was out and about in my soccer jersey, which is like my uniform, so the soccer was fitting for me. We walked and talked and took a few more pictures. Then we realized that we had reached Centreville.
Centreville was closed, but we were free to walk through it. Which basically meant that all the rides which we are too big to go on were closed, so we got to take a walk down memory lane looking at them, with no bratty kids around, in fact nobody around. Then we reached the petting zoo. The goats were playing with each other as we approached them. A couple was there feeding them. We didn't bother feeding them, so the goats amused themselves and us by cuddling with each other. We were both moved by the romantic vibe set forth by this gesture. Then we both laughed as this vibe was crushed by the gigantic shit one of the goats took. What animal plays and shits at the same time? Then we looked at the donkey, saw a pig sleeping (which was a first for both of us) and I think there was a horse. We took a few more photos as we left the petting zoo.
We arrived at a tiny bridge which traversed a tiny pond - sort of romantic. I had a bright idea at that point. There was a bench at the edge of the pond, I asked her to implore me and we sat on the bench and watched as the swans and geese swam around and enjoy themselves. By this time the sun had set even over the horizon. As we sat there, I scrolled through my phone and decided to play an mp3 from it, softly on speaker. It only took her about five seconds to realize that I was playing her favourite classical song, Canon. You see, she's already told me that she wants to play Pachelbel's classic at her wedding, and with my great taste in music of course I was playing Canon in D, performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra. She whimpered. I couldn't hold in the laughter. We joked about how on a real date, that would've pretty much sealed the deal, it was awesome, not to mention we were sitting in a perfect makeout point, with virtually nobody left in all of centreville. We got up and continued south.
We reached a highly arched bridge traversing what at first seemed to be an even larger pond. As I began up the bridge I started to say, "For the love of..." as I knew what I was about to see; the most beautiful view of the water from a bridge either of us have ever seen. We had to stay and soak it in for a bit. We stopped again. At this point we both had to admit that this was the most romantic night of either of our lives. Both of us had to admit that we wish we were sharing this moment with someone else, it was wasted on us. We continued on, took pictures in front of a beautiful fountain. Walked through a well-groomed garden pathway. At this point she said, "I think it's a dead end." But I had a feeling.
I said to her, "Well, you're half right." Indeed, it was a dead end, but it also happened to be a peer that stretched over the waters of Lake Ontario on the south edge of the island, such that we could gaze into the endless night sky, and if we wanted to, further still into each others eyes. We settled for the endless night sky; another moment to soak in. There was an old couple already there, but otherwise it was unoccupied. After chatting a bit and looking around, we picked up and left as the old couple left as well.
I forgot to mention that at this end of the island, there was an actual beach. So I took off my socks and shoes, she her flip flops, and we walked through the sand. There was a bunch of flatrocks along the shore, so we skipped a few rocks together. I was eventually successful, third try is a charm. It's been awhile for me. She simply sucked at it. We decided that when she takes a guy out on a similar date, she'll get him to hold her by the wayside and show her exactly how to skip rocks. We walked back from the beach, walked back along the island, walked back to the northern coast and waited for the ferry as we looked at downtown Toronto from the south, the southern skyline, fully illuminated under the night sky - a beautiful sight.
We took the ferry back, drawing closer and closer to this precious image until finally we were in the midst of it. Back downtown, back to reality. We walked back to the car, it started to drizzle as we reached the parking lot. We drove home and listened to some sweet sounding songs along the way. That was my sunday night. The memory of it will resonate for some time. I appreciate this night will all my heart.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
I love movies, but...
Movies are a social evil, even the ones that try to bring about social good. I think of the last 3 movies I saw with Don Cheadle in it. Hotel Rwanda, Manic, and last night Crash. All three were great movies, very provacative, all there made me think, made me reflect, and shocked me with their honesty. See them all, I'm tellin' you!
In all three movies some of, if not all of, the characters are living pretty unenviable lives. Everyone in Rwanda was getting slaughtered or seeking refuge in the hotel hoping not to be slaughtered. Everyone in manic was a teenager suffering from a different sociopathic disorder. In Crash every character was dealing with the trials and tribulations of getting along in the ever-hot melting pot in today's Los Angeles. In movies like these, you always get the feeling that your problems aren't so bad, in comparison. And movies have always been like this. [expand]
Part of the wow-factor in seeing a movie like Traffic, Carandiru or The Piano, or any movie that tries to depict the ugliness of a society comes with that part in the movie where you say to yourself, "Wow, I never knew life could be like this." In some distant land, whether from the past or from some distant land Brazil, or be it from the imagination of the writer, movies always show how bad it is/was somewhere else. Then you see the movie, reflect on it a little bit, and a few of us who appreciate our good fortune briefly think, "Man, my problems in comparison aren't so bad."
But then you start to think; I start to think. Do I feel any better? Firstly, whenever you compare your own troubles with the more dramatic problems of characters in a movie, you immediately start to feel invalidated. It's almost like seeing a child fall off his bike and scrape his knee, than he begins to cry. His mother runs over to him and says, "Shut up! At least you have legs to ride with!" How much better does the child feel at that point, do you think?
Even worse, feeling better because you know other people feel or felt worse seems pretty bourgeois. Sitting high above the world of struggle, from my ivory tower I watch the sad lives of other civilisations on my large screen playing beneath me. After watching them suffer for a few hours I turn around and go back to my world. Back to my property, my possessions, my business, all those things which I can now appreciate even more. Filled with the fear that life can be as bad as it seems on the screen below me, I make every effort to gain even more security for myself, gain more possessions, more property, lest they begin to make such movies about my life.
So clearly making me appreciate my current social status more isn't the best way to motivate people to change the world, and I don't think that making people feel guilty about their possessions is at all a better motivator. Ultimately, these movies are just for our entertainment, and we exploit the pain of the characters for our own benefit. That's really all these movies do. I'd be lying if I said I didn't love movies though!
In all three movies some of, if not all of, the characters are living pretty unenviable lives. Everyone in Rwanda was getting slaughtered or seeking refuge in the hotel hoping not to be slaughtered. Everyone in manic was a teenager suffering from a different sociopathic disorder. In Crash every character was dealing with the trials and tribulations of getting along in the ever-hot melting pot in today's Los Angeles. In movies like these, you always get the feeling that your problems aren't so bad, in comparison. And movies have always been like this. [expand]
Part of the wow-factor in seeing a movie like Traffic, Carandiru or The Piano, or any movie that tries to depict the ugliness of a society comes with that part in the movie where you say to yourself, "Wow, I never knew life could be like this." In some distant land, whether from the past or from some distant land Brazil, or be it from the imagination of the writer, movies always show how bad it is/was somewhere else. Then you see the movie, reflect on it a little bit, and a few of us who appreciate our good fortune briefly think, "Man, my problems in comparison aren't so bad."
But then you start to think; I start to think. Do I feel any better? Firstly, whenever you compare your own troubles with the more dramatic problems of characters in a movie, you immediately start to feel invalidated. It's almost like seeing a child fall off his bike and scrape his knee, than he begins to cry. His mother runs over to him and says, "Shut up! At least you have legs to ride with!" How much better does the child feel at that point, do you think?
Even worse, feeling better because you know other people feel or felt worse seems pretty bourgeois. Sitting high above the world of struggle, from my ivory tower I watch the sad lives of other civilisations on my large screen playing beneath me. After watching them suffer for a few hours I turn around and go back to my world. Back to my property, my possessions, my business, all those things which I can now appreciate even more. Filled with the fear that life can be as bad as it seems on the screen below me, I make every effort to gain even more security for myself, gain more possessions, more property, lest they begin to make such movies about my life.
So clearly making me appreciate my current social status more isn't the best way to motivate people to change the world, and I don't think that making people feel guilty about their possessions is at all a better motivator. Ultimately, these movies are just for our entertainment, and we exploit the pain of the characters for our own benefit. That's really all these movies do. I'd be lying if I said I didn't love movies though!
Friday, June 10, 2005
Damn Homie..
A friend of mine from elementary school just got his sentence today. Life in prison with no chance of parole for 15 years. Ultimately, there's nothing romantic about murder. Back before I can even remember, we used to play together while his mom babysat us. Who would've known?
Roller coasters, poker, weight gain, weight loss, Candian Climate, soccer and lack thereof this has been a week full of ups and downs. Emotionally, I'd have to say I've been pretty even steven. A bit unresponsive, a bit.... i'm not sure. In any case. Let me go enjoy another summer weekend please. I'll blog when it's not so hot and muggy.
Roller coasters, poker, weight gain, weight loss, Candian Climate, soccer and lack thereof this has been a week full of ups and downs. Emotionally, I'd have to say I've been pretty even steven. A bit unresponsive, a bit.... i'm not sure. In any case. Let me go enjoy another summer weekend please. I'll blog when it's not so hot and muggy.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Complacency Makes For Silver Medals
Not yesterday, not today, not tomprrow. Next week? It takes faith to believe in next week. Some things weren't made for faith.
I turned 22 on Friday. Pretty good birthday. I saw the second half of Field of Dreams again in the morning. Nostalgia makes pussies of grown men, I've always loved that movie. The rest of the day I relaxed at home, did the traditional birthday dinner at home, then went out to SeVIIen Nightclub to celebrate a bunch of birthdays. Good times. Nicole had to leave early, but by that point I was too drunk to be overly sad about that. Danced til 3, got home around 4, ate cake and chatted with Tanya til 5. Woke up around 8. Good times. Lots of alcohol.
Saturday I bought Shox. I haven't bought new sneakers since before first year. What kind of black guy am I? That afternoon I sat and chatted with Julie and Deryk while sipping on some milo. West Indian styles! That night a few of us reached Amy's house for a collective birthday party for the Malvern geminis. Good Times. Less alcohol.
Sunday was wonderland. Fun like friendship. You can't spend 5 hours standing in sweltering heat (in a lineup for rides you been on before) with just anybody. I'm an agreeable person, but under those conditions I normally would have had thoughts of killing the other person and dumping the body behind the water park. Nicole is still alive, although. In fact as the time progressed the day became increasingly fun, and our jokes became increasingly disturbing. Lack of inhibition is a beautiful thing. After that was Pat's kbbq. I gotta tell you, I've never grilled vegies myself before, but they turned out alright. The meat was great too. I came home smelling like smoke and food. Good times. Only 1 drink.
It's June now. It's been over a month since the banquet. Over a month since I nervously told Nicole I liked her; like her. The feelings don't seem to be entirely mutual. I'm a nice guy and all, but... I probably shouldn't even blog about this but I will.
The Jamil of 2 years ago might have thought, "Oh no, someone will read this and tell Nicole and I'll be ruined!" The Jamil of 1 year ago might have thought, "Well hey, I shouldn't air out my business online about Nicole, it wouldn't be fair to her, having people ask her, 'Did you know Jamil likes you?' and so on. " Jamil today thinks, it's my business, and this is how I deal with it. And really it's not a big secret. I can lie to myself about a lot of things, but not everything. This is really not something I'm scared to admit. Truth be told, hardly anybody reads this thing anyway! haha.
So in conclusion, AMAZING weekend, no regrets thanks to everyone. It seems clear that I am unlucky in love again. Oooh sweet sorrow, when will love finally come a knockin'? Not yesterday, not today, not tomorrow. Next week? It takes faith to believe in next week. Some things weren't made for faith.
Some things were made for action!
Shit I'm late for soccer.
I turned 22 on Friday. Pretty good birthday. I saw the second half of Field of Dreams again in the morning. Nostalgia makes pussies of grown men, I've always loved that movie. The rest of the day I relaxed at home, did the traditional birthday dinner at home, then went out to SeVIIen Nightclub to celebrate a bunch of birthdays. Good times. Nicole had to leave early, but by that point I was too drunk to be overly sad about that. Danced til 3, got home around 4, ate cake and chatted with Tanya til 5. Woke up around 8. Good times. Lots of alcohol.
Saturday I bought Shox. I haven't bought new sneakers since before first year. What kind of black guy am I? That afternoon I sat and chatted with Julie and Deryk while sipping on some milo. West Indian styles! That night a few of us reached Amy's house for a collective birthday party for the Malvern geminis. Good Times. Less alcohol.
Sunday was wonderland. Fun like friendship. You can't spend 5 hours standing in sweltering heat (in a lineup for rides you been on before) with just anybody. I'm an agreeable person, but under those conditions I normally would have had thoughts of killing the other person and dumping the body behind the water park. Nicole is still alive, although. In fact as the time progressed the day became increasingly fun, and our jokes became increasingly disturbing. Lack of inhibition is a beautiful thing. After that was Pat's kbbq. I gotta tell you, I've never grilled vegies myself before, but they turned out alright. The meat was great too. I came home smelling like smoke and food. Good times. Only 1 drink.
It's June now. It's been over a month since the banquet. Over a month since I nervously told Nicole I liked her; like her. The feelings don't seem to be entirely mutual. I'm a nice guy and all, but... I probably shouldn't even blog about this but I will.
The Jamil of 2 years ago might have thought, "Oh no, someone will read this and tell Nicole and I'll be ruined!" The Jamil of 1 year ago might have thought, "Well hey, I shouldn't air out my business online about Nicole, it wouldn't be fair to her, having people ask her, 'Did you know Jamil likes you?' and so on. " Jamil today thinks, it's my business, and this is how I deal with it. And really it's not a big secret. I can lie to myself about a lot of things, but not everything. This is really not something I'm scared to admit. Truth be told, hardly anybody reads this thing anyway! haha.
So in conclusion, AMAZING weekend, no regrets thanks to everyone. It seems clear that I am unlucky in love again. Oooh sweet sorrow, when will love finally come a knockin'? Not yesterday, not today, not tomorrow. Next week? It takes faith to believe in next week. Some things weren't made for faith.
Some things were made for action!
Shit I'm late for soccer.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Quotes From Above Ground
"Inaction is validated only by preceding and consequent action."
"Everybody wants to shine. These days, most people don't care which part of them does."
They're mine. They're both mine.
"Everybody wants to shine. These days, most people don't care which part of them does."
They're mine. They're both mine.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Thoughts From My Fortnight of Relaxation
I haven't worked in almost two weeks, and I'm not taking summer school. Already I'm beginning to feel the pressure of society. Today I watched Dr. Phil with my mom, it was an episode on moochers. After that was Oprah, an episode on women struggling with being overweight. Being the overweight brutha that I am and living at home with my folks, it's needless to say this afternoon had me feeling like a fat slob. The McDonald's dinner didn't help. Nor did my mom, questioning whether I even still work for the bank. Nor did the frequent questioning by my friends, "So where are you working this summer?" as though I had lost my job at TD or something. Nor did the repeated memories of my having no money. Nor did waking up this morning to a call from a hiring agency that wanted me to comment on a friend of mine, who just got a job. Nor did pretty much any conversation I've had in the last 2 weeks with friends, about them getting back to school or to work, as though this year will be any harder than last.
But, I can make enough excuses for now. Honestly, job-searching last summer was a waste of time; I spent so much time looking for work, it was like a fulltime job with no pay. I'm not going to bother looking for a second job to commit to this summer. I'm just going to bully myself into getting as many hours as possible. I can take comfort in having a job. I can do like most of my friends and absorb myself in my current low-level, do-nothing position and comfort myself with the resulting marginal level of financial security. Or I could plunge myself further into debt, and take up the odd course at school and take comfort in the fact that "I'm in school" and that I don't need to worry about the future, just yet. And, with the added pressure I put on myself to finish school early I relieve myself of the pressure of failure, because if I do poorly than I must have pushed myself too much, too fast. I have to admit, any and all of these excuses seem like golden opportunities right about now, mostly because like most undergrads my age I'm quite insecure.
But, unlike most undergrads I think my level of insecurity is a bit more dangerous. I was feeling the supposed 'quarter-life crisis' symptoms in about grade 12/OAC. And like most people who come of out university, pull up their bootstraps and throw themselves into a secure job, I came out of highschool, pulled up my bootstraps and threw myself into a secure program, Co-op BBA. After almost 2 years of blogging, anyone reading this now probably already knows how I feel about the BBA, and Coop, and well UofT in general. But let me get back to my insecurity.
I'm sitting here, almost finished my program with mediocre marks, and slightly above average experience, work and volunteer wise. An undergraduate degree these days is slightly better than a dime-a-dozen highschool diploma, probably somewhere around a quarter-a-dozen. Furthermore, my degree (keeping with the fact that I'm university's B- student) is even less special than about half of the people in the room, in any given classroom. So as much as university is supposed to offer four years of the social safety net and the crafted skills to enter the workforce and make myself feel more secure, I find that with every passing day I'm regressing further into a pit of insecurity.
Some people like to blame this kind of pressure with going to UofT, or being in a competitive program, or having added outside stressors in their lives, like shitty time-consuming part-time jobs. Seriously though, everyone has work and shit to deal with. Competing now is easier than competing later on with no experience. And honestly, we UofT folk aren't much different than the rest. At Ryerson you find out you're mediocre after you get your degree with high marks and the industry doesn't really care. At UofT, you find out that you're mediocre every step of the way, after every depressing exam. Management was a bust for me, I knew that was coming, but I thought there would be salvation in economics. I still like economics a lot, but success in econ seems slim. Maybe I can put my minor in philosophy to good use!
"What can you do with a degree in philosophy?"
"Have deep thoughts about being unemployed!"
-Dragon, The Bruce Lee Story
But, I can make enough excuses for now. Honestly, job-searching last summer was a waste of time; I spent so much time looking for work, it was like a fulltime job with no pay. I'm not going to bother looking for a second job to commit to this summer. I'm just going to bully myself into getting as many hours as possible. I can take comfort in having a job. I can do like most of my friends and absorb myself in my current low-level, do-nothing position and comfort myself with the resulting marginal level of financial security. Or I could plunge myself further into debt, and take up the odd course at school and take comfort in the fact that "I'm in school" and that I don't need to worry about the future, just yet. And, with the added pressure I put on myself to finish school early I relieve myself of the pressure of failure, because if I do poorly than I must have pushed myself too much, too fast. I have to admit, any and all of these excuses seem like golden opportunities right about now, mostly because like most undergrads my age I'm quite insecure.
But, unlike most undergrads I think my level of insecurity is a bit more dangerous. I was feeling the supposed 'quarter-life crisis' symptoms in about grade 12/OAC. And like most people who come of out university, pull up their bootstraps and throw themselves into a secure job, I came out of highschool, pulled up my bootstraps and threw myself into a secure program, Co-op BBA. After almost 2 years of blogging, anyone reading this now probably already knows how I feel about the BBA, and Coop, and well UofT in general. But let me get back to my insecurity.
I'm sitting here, almost finished my program with mediocre marks, and slightly above average experience, work and volunteer wise. An undergraduate degree these days is slightly better than a dime-a-dozen highschool diploma, probably somewhere around a quarter-a-dozen. Furthermore, my degree (keeping with the fact that I'm university's B- student) is even less special than about half of the people in the room, in any given classroom. So as much as university is supposed to offer four years of the social safety net and the crafted skills to enter the workforce and make myself feel more secure, I find that with every passing day I'm regressing further into a pit of insecurity.
Some people like to blame this kind of pressure with going to UofT, or being in a competitive program, or having added outside stressors in their lives, like shitty time-consuming part-time jobs. Seriously though, everyone has work and shit to deal with. Competing now is easier than competing later on with no experience. And honestly, we UofT folk aren't much different than the rest. At Ryerson you find out you're mediocre after you get your degree with high marks and the industry doesn't really care. At UofT, you find out that you're mediocre every step of the way, after every depressing exam. Management was a bust for me, I knew that was coming, but I thought there would be salvation in economics. I still like economics a lot, but success in econ seems slim. Maybe I can put my minor in philosophy to good use!
"What can you do with a degree in philosophy?"
"Have deep thoughts about being unemployed!"
-Dragon, The Bruce Lee Story
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Please Support My Boycott!
...
"Why? What's the problem?"
"Clean that up!"
"Okay, sorry officer I didn't know"
"Clean that up!"
"Okay, I couldn't find a washroom I'm sorry."
"Well you better clean that up or I'll give you a ticket!"
"How am I gonna clean that up?"
"I don't know, clean it up!"
"How?"
(circular conversation continues for about a minute... after that)
"How about if I come into your house and piss in your room?"
"Okay, this isn't your house, that isn't the same!"
"Well, that is disgusting!....How about I give you a ticket for tresspassing?"
"Well I'm not tresspassing, I paid for parking here!"
"How about I give you a ticket for littering?"
"How is that littering? I mean the booth is right over there, and I didn't drop any garbage."
"Okay, you're under arrest!"
"For what?"
"You're under arrest, come with me!"
"No! What's my crime? Okay, I'm calling my lawyer, this is..."
-Grabs arm, tugs on jacket, reaches for pocket!)
"Let go of me, where are you taking me?"
-Grabs person's throat, begins to choke him, onlookers begin to converge and gasp!"
"YO (friend's name), ARE YOU FILMING THIS? GET THIS ON CAMERA!"
(friends and onlookers -including me- begin to take pictures."
"Do not resist arrest!"
"I'm not resisting! What's the charge?" (arms in the air, backing away from the officer)
"Come with me!"
-The two struggle, the guy eventually breaks free of the officer's hold, and looses him in the staircase, the officer returns to viewable range.
"I'm okay!" (the officer says, wow!)
Toronto Police Force: "To Protect and Serve"
Officer Badge Number: 995
So I see all of this after a lovely Friday night downtown. I'm still in my van.... the cop realised that I'm there witnessing the whole thing. He starts coming up to the van to scream at me. Tapping on the van and yelling, "Get out of here!" He and the hotel manager start calling me shit. The friends who videotaped this on their camera phones have by now been ordered to leave.
So they're forcing me to leave, the parking manager is calling me a fucking asshole. I'm like, "I'm a paying customer, here is my chip and I don't need your abuse!" The guy slaps the chip away from my hand! I say, "Step the hell away from my van and don't touch me again!" I ask the cop to tell me where I can form a complaint, he's giving me the sarcastic runaround.. So i stop my van in teh middle of the driveway.
We get into an argument, yadda yadda yadda I take the cops badge number and leave... I flip him and the hotel manager the bird on my way out, and drive off. I'm never parking at the fucking Paramount on Richmond and John again! Support my boycott!!
As for the police, well how far into my story did it take you to realise that the guy and his friends were black? Those who have turned a completely blind eye to the inequality of treatment by the police force might say something like, "I realised he was black when he said Yo!" Anyway, everyone likes to dismiss the double-standard because it seems so cliche - the pigs holding down the black man! Then when people complain about racial profiling and so forth, those who have already decided to ignore the double standard continue their ignorance by dismissing our claims.
I'm not going to say that a white guy wouldn't have been approached by the police for taking a piss in an underground parking lot (hell the officer was chinese anyway!) But I'm still waiting for the day where someone non-ethnic has a cop making every effort to throw unjust charges his way, and then when he calls the cop on that injustice the cop proceeds to assault him! Black folk historically cry "Injustice!" loud and for everyone to hear in order to get some equality, both politically through marches, or on a small scale. I'm no different, I sat there and refused to leave and took pictures with guys I didn't even know of this shit going down!
When your average Joe asks, "What's the charge?" your overage cop tells him! When your average Ray-Ray from the hood asks, "What's the charge?" the story goes a little something like that!
"Why? What's the problem?"
"Clean that up!"
"Okay, sorry officer I didn't know"
"Clean that up!"
"Okay, I couldn't find a washroom I'm sorry."
"Well you better clean that up or I'll give you a ticket!"
"How am I gonna clean that up?"
"I don't know, clean it up!"
"How?"
(circular conversation continues for about a minute... after that)
"How about if I come into your house and piss in your room?"
"Okay, this isn't your house, that isn't the same!"
"Well, that is disgusting!....How about I give you a ticket for tresspassing?"
"Well I'm not tresspassing, I paid for parking here!"
"How about I give you a ticket for littering?"
"How is that littering? I mean the booth is right over there, and I didn't drop any garbage."
"Okay, you're under arrest!"
"For what?"
"You're under arrest, come with me!"
"No! What's my crime? Okay, I'm calling my lawyer, this is..."
-Grabs arm, tugs on jacket, reaches for pocket!)
"Let go of me, where are you taking me?"
-Grabs person's throat, begins to choke him, onlookers begin to converge and gasp!"
"YO (friend's name), ARE YOU FILMING THIS? GET THIS ON CAMERA!"
(friends and onlookers -including me- begin to take pictures."
"Do not resist arrest!"
"I'm not resisting! What's the charge?" (arms in the air, backing away from the officer)
"Come with me!"
-The two struggle, the guy eventually breaks free of the officer's hold, and looses him in the staircase, the officer returns to viewable range.
"I'm okay!" (the officer says, wow!)
Toronto Police Force: "To Protect and Serve"
Officer Badge Number: 995
So I see all of this after a lovely Friday night downtown. I'm still in my van.... the cop realised that I'm there witnessing the whole thing. He starts coming up to the van to scream at me. Tapping on the van and yelling, "Get out of here!" He and the hotel manager start calling me shit. The friends who videotaped this on their camera phones have by now been ordered to leave.
So they're forcing me to leave, the parking manager is calling me a fucking asshole. I'm like, "I'm a paying customer, here is my chip and I don't need your abuse!" The guy slaps the chip away from my hand! I say, "Step the hell away from my van and don't touch me again!" I ask the cop to tell me where I can form a complaint, he's giving me the sarcastic runaround.. So i stop my van in teh middle of the driveway.
We get into an argument, yadda yadda yadda I take the cops badge number and leave... I flip him and the hotel manager the bird on my way out, and drive off. I'm never parking at the fucking Paramount on Richmond and John again! Support my boycott!!
As for the police, well how far into my story did it take you to realise that the guy and his friends were black? Those who have turned a completely blind eye to the inequality of treatment by the police force might say something like, "I realised he was black when he said Yo!" Anyway, everyone likes to dismiss the double-standard because it seems so cliche - the pigs holding down the black man! Then when people complain about racial profiling and so forth, those who have already decided to ignore the double standard continue their ignorance by dismissing our claims.
I'm not going to say that a white guy wouldn't have been approached by the police for taking a piss in an underground parking lot (hell the officer was chinese anyway!) But I'm still waiting for the day where someone non-ethnic has a cop making every effort to throw unjust charges his way, and then when he calls the cop on that injustice the cop proceeds to assault him! Black folk historically cry "Injustice!" loud and for everyone to hear in order to get some equality, both politically through marches, or on a small scale. I'm no different, I sat there and refused to leave and took pictures with guys I didn't even know of this shit going down!
When your average Joe asks, "What's the charge?" your overage cop tells him! When your average Ray-Ray from the hood asks, "What's the charge?" the story goes a little something like that!
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Girls and School
If at any time in the last 3 years someone were to ask me what's wrong, girls and school would probably have been the answer. Or, in the few occasions where my frustration could not be reduced to girls and school, girls and school probably still found its way into the confusion. This term was no exception. Girls and school consistently get me down. How can I free myself from the turmoil, set here in front of me?
"All of us have been trained by education and environment to seek personal gain and security, and to fight for ourselves. Though we cover it over with pleasant phrases, we have been educated for various professions within a system which is based on exploitation and fear. Such a trainign must inevitably bring confusion and misery to ourselves and the world, for it creates in each indivisual those psychological barriers which separate and hold him apart from others."
-Krishnamurti, "Education & The Significance of Life"
"Girls of the world aint nothin' but trouble!"
-Will Smith, aka Fresh Prince, "Girls aint nothin' but trouble."
All better! Inspiration can be found around every corner.
Actually, I shouldn't act as though I'm really that shallow. I suggest everyone read Krishnamurti with an open heart, and not as a means of getting over personal frustrations by making excuses for themselves. It's a good read, but a bit repetative.
Also, despite all evidence to support it, I still have faith in the belief that girls are not actually the direct spawn of evil, put on this earth to collectively destroy the beauty and piety of men and their souls.
P1: Hell is hot, too hot for the devil to have, or care about having, nice hair.
P2: Girls have, and care about having, nice hair
--
Conc: Girls are not the devil. (According to Leibniz's law of identity)
The above argument is one of my few remaining arguments in defense of the sanctity of female kind. I'm hoping for a stronger argument to come around.
"All of us have been trained by education and environment to seek personal gain and security, and to fight for ourselves. Though we cover it over with pleasant phrases, we have been educated for various professions within a system which is based on exploitation and fear. Such a trainign must inevitably bring confusion and misery to ourselves and the world, for it creates in each indivisual those psychological barriers which separate and hold him apart from others."
-Krishnamurti, "Education & The Significance of Life"
"Girls of the world aint nothin' but trouble!"
-Will Smith, aka Fresh Prince, "Girls aint nothin' but trouble."
All better! Inspiration can be found around every corner.
Actually, I shouldn't act as though I'm really that shallow. I suggest everyone read Krishnamurti with an open heart, and not as a means of getting over personal frustrations by making excuses for themselves. It's a good read, but a bit repetative.
Also, despite all evidence to support it, I still have faith in the belief that girls are not actually the direct spawn of evil, put on this earth to collectively destroy the beauty and piety of men and their souls.
P1: Hell is hot, too hot for the devil to have, or care about having, nice hair.
P2: Girls have, and care about having, nice hair
--
Conc: Girls are not the devil. (According to Leibniz's law of identity)
The above argument is one of my few remaining arguments in defense of the sanctity of female kind. I'm hoping for a stronger argument to come around.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Tonic 1, Me 0...
...and by that I mean, I've been to Tonic once, and I got nothing out of it.
Actually, I'm too lazy to check, but I may have been to...no no wait, that was Pearl Lounge. Ha, yea i've actually never been to Tonic before last night. Tonic sucks. I'm thinking now to that time I served this guy from tonic nightclub at the bank, and he had the whole, "I'm from a Nightclub, everybody knows me...or should" attitude. In retrospect, he has very little reason to be proud. The greeks enjoyed themselves, they were all over the music. I tried. I'd have to say drunk white guys stumbling around drunk are about as annoying on the dancefloor as shy stationary chinese guys. I had my drink spilled partially on my shirt, a beer thrown at me and a backslap from some guy. I think the beer was intended to hit the girl beside me, but it landed by my feet. The backhand was accidental, and I'd be a hypocrit to get mad about it, cuz I got some girl in her mouth soon after. Nice girl, she was good about.
I gotta reach a soca fete this summer. More importantly, I have to resume my clubbing retirement. Although, it is true that I haven't been clubbing unless it was VIP in ages, and there'll be more VIP action next week
Exams are done.
Professor Seager has informally accepted me, so I'm probably going to do a supervised independent study with him. I need to find a provacative subject related to the philosophy of mind. This other guy is already doing metaphysics and mind theory, I was thinking of being ambitious and maybe doing Existentialism, mind-theory, and the philosophy of being and not being in more recent chinese philosophy That's just a shot in the dark though. This summer I'm going to do some solid reading for philosophy and if I can sit in on a few classes.
There hasn't been particularly much on my mind other than exams, love and soccer, love of soccer. I'm making an effort not to write about love-not-had anymore. The better conclusions are the ones you make while being in love. So wait for those, they're soon to come.
As for soccer, today I celebrated the end of exams in the best of ways - a pickup game of soccer with half of the UofT varsity team (and some other guys) versus some team with Chilean guys. After a quick scrimmage with the varsity boys to warm up (i haven't played outdoor soccer since november) we started the game and I was put on the spanish team because they were missing players. I'll have you know we ran them 4-1. I scored the first goal and made some dirty plays. A quite validating experience. Tri-campus whaaat! Varsity aint got shit on me!
Actually, I'm too lazy to check, but I may have been to...no no wait, that was Pearl Lounge. Ha, yea i've actually never been to Tonic before last night. Tonic sucks. I'm thinking now to that time I served this guy from tonic nightclub at the bank, and he had the whole, "I'm from a Nightclub, everybody knows me...or should" attitude. In retrospect, he has very little reason to be proud. The greeks enjoyed themselves, they were all over the music. I tried. I'd have to say drunk white guys stumbling around drunk are about as annoying on the dancefloor as shy stationary chinese guys. I had my drink spilled partially on my shirt, a beer thrown at me and a backslap from some guy. I think the beer was intended to hit the girl beside me, but it landed by my feet. The backhand was accidental, and I'd be a hypocrit to get mad about it, cuz I got some girl in her mouth soon after. Nice girl, she was good about.
I gotta reach a soca fete this summer. More importantly, I have to resume my clubbing retirement. Although, it is true that I haven't been clubbing unless it was VIP in ages, and there'll be more VIP action next week
Exams are done.
Professor Seager has informally accepted me, so I'm probably going to do a supervised independent study with him. I need to find a provacative subject related to the philosophy of mind. This other guy is already doing metaphysics and mind theory, I was thinking of being ambitious and maybe doing Existentialism, mind-theory, and the philosophy of being and not being in more recent chinese philosophy That's just a shot in the dark though. This summer I'm going to do some solid reading for philosophy and if I can sit in on a few classes.
There hasn't been particularly much on my mind other than exams, love and soccer, love of soccer. I'm making an effort not to write about love-not-had anymore. The better conclusions are the ones you make while being in love. So wait for those, they're soon to come.
As for soccer, today I celebrated the end of exams in the best of ways - a pickup game of soccer with half of the UofT varsity team (and some other guys) versus some team with Chilean guys. After a quick scrimmage with the varsity boys to warm up (i haven't played outdoor soccer since november) we started the game and I was put on the spanish team because they were missing players. I'll have you know we ran them 4-1. I scored the first goal and made some dirty plays. A quite validating experience. Tri-campus whaaat! Varsity aint got shit on me!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Like I could really wait until the 21st...
I sat in on a management ethics class today for the sheer novelty of it. After about an hour and a half my mind began to wander and I had a thought about the old days. Yes, the early nineties. I remembered what it was like growing up with the ever active horemones of a young man.
I was always the observer, and not by choice. Love was so personal then, it was my own. To a large extent it was all in my head and rarely actualized in the phyiscal world. I have to give Adam (from the story of Adam and Eve) some credit, he had some guts. His barrier between himself and the apple was God himself, and yet still he feasted from the tree of knowledge. Back then, the barrier between myself and the apple of my eye was my own insecurity and rather then climb the tree I simply settled for the grass. (If I smoked weed to compensate for sexual frustration, that would've been a wicked metaphor!)
But there was still something very beautiful about those youthful emotions. Even though they were rarely actualized, they were such vivid emotions that it never really mattered. The vague thoughts of what it would feel like just to feel her hair, just to have her close to me, just to have her eyes meet mine with warmth and perhaps even a smile, that feeling of anticipation ran deep inside me and kept me warm, like good rum.
"What it would be like..." was the question back then. High school came around and I got my answer - not with her of course, what funny chubby shy kid ever gets that privilege? No, "what it would be like" became a far less personal question in high school, far less subjectve. And as the horemones persisted and the desperation increased I lost track of what I really meant when I used to ask that question, and I just wanted to know what it would be like, to touch hair, to feel skin...the eyes were less important. Eventually, lucky me, I got my answer - law of averages, I suppose - and the quesiton faded away.
It's a common conception that when beauty is lost, it's lost for good, but the beauty of personal desire for me has been botoxed. In that brief instant in management ethics I had a vivid recollection of those feelings while looking at some girl across the way in a pink hoody. Funny thing is, it wasn't even really her that mattered, she simply sparked that thought. I don't know her at all. Romantically, she's about as significant as a match, that sparks the flame that lights the fire that keeps me warm; two rocks or a lighter would've done the same for me.
Who's my fire? Who is it that keeps me warm? Answering that question for sure, on my own, in my basement on a monday night is about as hard as building a fire, on my own, on an island on any night! I'd love to say that the previous comparison was weak, because after years of experience you would certainly know how to build a fire on your own, but after years of experience with trying to answer "who's my fire" on my own, I'm pretty much where I started, clueless. Fact is, my metaphor is actually rather strong. After years of failing to produce an answer to that question I've realised that there's very little merit in trying to answer it on my own; that approach is now dead. And if I ever took this long to build a fire on a deserted island on my own, well I'd be dead. Incorporated into my standard for desire now is reciprocity. I need to feel that what I feel is also felt for me. If I can't get that from you, that I can only tell you that you're not my flame because between the two of us, we're clearly out of matches!
I suppose I didn't really lie, I'm still saving talk about philosophy until after exams. Which is the 22nd instead apparently. It never really ends.
I was always the observer, and not by choice. Love was so personal then, it was my own. To a large extent it was all in my head and rarely actualized in the phyiscal world. I have to give Adam (from the story of Adam and Eve) some credit, he had some guts. His barrier between himself and the apple was God himself, and yet still he feasted from the tree of knowledge. Back then, the barrier between myself and the apple of my eye was my own insecurity and rather then climb the tree I simply settled for the grass. (If I smoked weed to compensate for sexual frustration, that would've been a wicked metaphor!)
But there was still something very beautiful about those youthful emotions. Even though they were rarely actualized, they were such vivid emotions that it never really mattered. The vague thoughts of what it would feel like just to feel her hair, just to have her close to me, just to have her eyes meet mine with warmth and perhaps even a smile, that feeling of anticipation ran deep inside me and kept me warm, like good rum.
"What it would be like..." was the question back then. High school came around and I got my answer - not with her of course, what funny chubby shy kid ever gets that privilege? No, "what it would be like" became a far less personal question in high school, far less subjectve. And as the horemones persisted and the desperation increased I lost track of what I really meant when I used to ask that question, and I just wanted to know what it would be like, to touch hair, to feel skin...the eyes were less important. Eventually, lucky me, I got my answer - law of averages, I suppose - and the quesiton faded away.
It's a common conception that when beauty is lost, it's lost for good, but the beauty of personal desire for me has been botoxed. In that brief instant in management ethics I had a vivid recollection of those feelings while looking at some girl across the way in a pink hoody. Funny thing is, it wasn't even really her that mattered, she simply sparked that thought. I don't know her at all. Romantically, she's about as significant as a match, that sparks the flame that lights the fire that keeps me warm; two rocks or a lighter would've done the same for me.
Who's my fire? Who is it that keeps me warm? Answering that question for sure, on my own, in my basement on a monday night is about as hard as building a fire, on my own, on an island on any night! I'd love to say that the previous comparison was weak, because after years of experience you would certainly know how to build a fire on your own, but after years of experience with trying to answer "who's my fire" on my own, I'm pretty much where I started, clueless. Fact is, my metaphor is actually rather strong. After years of failing to produce an answer to that question I've realised that there's very little merit in trying to answer it on my own; that approach is now dead. And if I ever took this long to build a fire on a deserted island on my own, well I'd be dead. Incorporated into my standard for desire now is reciprocity. I need to feel that what I feel is also felt for me. If I can't get that from you, that I can only tell you that you're not my flame because between the two of us, we're clearly out of matches!
I suppose I didn't really lie, I'm still saving talk about philosophy until after exams. Which is the 22nd instead apparently. It never really ends.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
I found my keys!!
Apparently, I threw them into buddy Derek's bag! I'm so glad I found them. Yesterday was very satisfying, I found my keys, I lost a game in soccer but we played really well all things considered. I have until next week to fix my feet, my bunyans are killing me!
Today was surprisingly warm, and the sun was shining nicely. I spent the day at home, cleaning and such. Tonight I have an assignment to finish and then it's back to the grind tomorrow. I was planning out my week while waiting for food in the Chinese food court today. Man, am I going to be busy. From now until April 21st it's going to be rough! Thank goodness taxes aren't due until the end of april; guess when I'm gonna tackle mine!
Bun Cuba, is the decision. I'm not going with my mgmt crew anymore, I aint got enough extra scratch. But I'm hoping I'll have some flow by mid-summer and I can do a cost-effective last minute trip to a nice hot island. Anyone down?
Anyway, I'm not particularly in the mood to attack my emotional or philosophical innards right now, nor do I have the time to. So I'm going to try and keep Jamdora's box locked tight until the 21st of April. But after that, prepare yourself for some intense philosophical investigations. It'll be worth a good skim-through, I promise!
Today was surprisingly warm, and the sun was shining nicely. I spent the day at home, cleaning and such. Tonight I have an assignment to finish and then it's back to the grind tomorrow. I was planning out my week while waiting for food in the Chinese food court today. Man, am I going to be busy. From now until April 21st it's going to be rough! Thank goodness taxes aren't due until the end of april; guess when I'm gonna tackle mine!
Bun Cuba, is the decision. I'm not going with my mgmt crew anymore, I aint got enough extra scratch. But I'm hoping I'll have some flow by mid-summer and I can do a cost-effective last minute trip to a nice hot island. Anyone down?
Anyway, I'm not particularly in the mood to attack my emotional or philosophical innards right now, nor do I have the time to. So I'm going to try and keep Jamdora's box locked tight until the 21st of April. But after that, prepare yourself for some intense philosophical investigations. It'll be worth a good skim-through, I promise!
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Guess it's about that time eh chaps? ...Righto.
This song I hear, it plays all day for me,
With every minute, a new melody,
Each word is new, each word cries out to me,
Each word is fear, each word is liberty.
But I...
Don't wanna tell you how I feel,
Don't wanna tell you why I dooo,
Don't wanna tell you what feels real,
But don't wanna treat this like it's new.
Don't wanna lose the days we've had,
Don't wanna have you feeling sad,
Don't wanna make you think I've lied,
But I gotta let you know how much I've cried.
I've cried, I've cried,
Those tearless soulful cries,
Wake up, shake it off, dry those eyes,
Man up, try again, chin to the skies.
- - - - - - - - -
Clearly i'm not a musician, nor a poet. I am fatigued after only one verse. After this semester I will have to undergo some 'literary conditioning.'
Today I watched Frida, again. I focused on the dialogue where Frida exclaimed that what separates her from the artist is that her paintings only speak of her personal pain. She was corrected and shown that her art displays the pain that we all feel which is why her canvas speaks to us all. With me, my problem is the opposite. Where she failed to understand that her pain is shared by others, I know this to be true of my pain all too well. I convert my frustrations into the domestic currency we call words and offer them to the general public in hopes of measely returns. What I now need to do is to paint; paint not a future for myself, but simply an experience. An experience of my own, of our own.
With every minute, a new melody,
Each word is new, each word cries out to me,
Each word is fear, each word is liberty.
But I...
Don't wanna tell you how I feel,
Don't wanna tell you why I dooo,
Don't wanna tell you what feels real,
But don't wanna treat this like it's new.
Don't wanna lose the days we've had,
Don't wanna have you feeling sad,
Don't wanna make you think I've lied,
But I gotta let you know how much I've cried.
I've cried, I've cried,
Those tearless soulful cries,
Wake up, shake it off, dry those eyes,
Man up, try again, chin to the skies.
- - - - - - - - -
Clearly i'm not a musician, nor a poet. I am fatigued after only one verse. After this semester I will have to undergo some 'literary conditioning.'
Today I watched Frida, again. I focused on the dialogue where Frida exclaimed that what separates her from the artist is that her paintings only speak of her personal pain. She was corrected and shown that her art displays the pain that we all feel which is why her canvas speaks to us all. With me, my problem is the opposite. Where she failed to understand that her pain is shared by others, I know this to be true of my pain all too well. I convert my frustrations into the domestic currency we call words and offer them to the general public in hopes of measely returns. What I now need to do is to paint; paint not a future for myself, but simply an experience. An experience of my own, of our own.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Caution: Work ahead
I have from now 'til Wednesday to understand finance. I'm starting now. I'm finished.
"I hope today is the day you find the invisible force that causes all of your problems, so that henceforth you'll stop blaming it for everything that goes wrong."
Reading week has consisted of conversations and eating. The remaining days are to consist of studying and working out. The Yin and the Yang. Is this the Tao?
Still working things out. Not really sure what I'm working on. I find myself noticing signs of depression every now and then. The latest one was withdrawal. Contrary to the philosophy put forth by G.I. Joe, knowing is actually less-then-half the battle. With each symptom I become aware of, I acknowledge it but I don't have the will to combat it.
Each thought, empty as the one that preceded it, represents my lack of concentration and mental fatigue. I fear withdrawing from my own self!
You ever notice that when you're angry or sad, or likewise when you're happy and laughing, it takes a lot of muscle work to make the appropriate gesture? When your face is in a state of relaxation, it hardly looks happy, it yields towards a frown; corners of the lips faced downwards, features slouched like Eeyore from Pooh. Your face defaults to less-then-happy. That's sort of how this posting is. It's not intendedly bitter, it just naturally comes across like that.
The rain hits the cobblestone and the corner shops close their windows. As the rain pours down, a sombre mood passes over the village. Spring is around the corner.
"I hope today is the day you find the invisible force that causes all of your problems, so that henceforth you'll stop blaming it for everything that goes wrong."
Reading week has consisted of conversations and eating. The remaining days are to consist of studying and working out. The Yin and the Yang. Is this the Tao?
Still working things out. Not really sure what I'm working on. I find myself noticing signs of depression every now and then. The latest one was withdrawal. Contrary to the philosophy put forth by G.I. Joe, knowing is actually less-then-half the battle. With each symptom I become aware of, I acknowledge it but I don't have the will to combat it.
Each thought, empty as the one that preceded it, represents my lack of concentration and mental fatigue. I fear withdrawing from my own self!
You ever notice that when you're angry or sad, or likewise when you're happy and laughing, it takes a lot of muscle work to make the appropriate gesture? When your face is in a state of relaxation, it hardly looks happy, it yields towards a frown; corners of the lips faced downwards, features slouched like Eeyore from Pooh. Your face defaults to less-then-happy. That's sort of how this posting is. It's not intendedly bitter, it just naturally comes across like that.
The rain hits the cobblestone and the corner shops close their windows. As the rain pours down, a sombre mood passes over the village. Spring is around the corner.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
The Misconception
Possibly the greatest of them all is that love is objective. It's actually more of a mistreatment, then a misconception. It's comforting to feel that love is out there. Many of us like to feel that there are certain things we look for in a companion, and if that's offered to us then we'll be happy. But we won't be happy, we'll simply be satisfied. That approach to love is like having steamed fish and whole wheat bread before an evening workout, providing you with essential proteins and omega-3s to maximize the effectiveness of your diet and workout regime, which may indeed yield positive long-term results. Love, on the other hand, is a friggin bite out of a wad of chocolate chip cookie dough. It just feels good inside. Functionally, it makes no sense. It runs contrary to long-term health, but its biproduct (happiness) is essential for good living; the paradox of love. In fact, much like raw cookie-dough, love has been known to be the demise of a few people, but many of us just can't find resist ingesting it, at least once.
Before I go further off on that tangent of an analogy, I'll get get back to the point. I don't think love is out there. It seems almost silly to go out and look for that somebody who has all of those qualities you feel you need in a companion. Why do I say all of this? Let me offer an example, one that is not entirely true, but I embellish to prove a point.
Today I am in love with his lady that works at my bank. She's 11 years older then me, and has a kid half my age. She's gorgeous and would undeniably satisfy all of those desires. Most importantly - or soon you'll see, least importantly - I feel, she's perfect for me because she can give me everything I want. I have this vision of her offering me what no other girl can right now, an uncompromisingly nurturing relationship with a strong emotional connection. Actually, other girls might be able to, but my feelings are such that I think she's the best candidate. Blah blah blah, for those reasons and more she's perfect for me in ways most others will never understand (the timeless love story).
Tomorrow, I will not be in love with her. Not because my love for her is impure, I know that it is. But tomorrow I will not love her, because in actuality I only loved those things which I felt she could offer me - the uncompromisingly nurturing stuff and so forth. Tomorrow I will wake up and naturally I will want something completely different. I will want someone who doesn't have a kid, perhaps, because I will come to fear such responsibility at my age. Tomorrow I will want somebody to study with, and somebody who'll know what I mean when I ramble on about philosophy and econ, and doesn't know the first thing about banking! Tomorrow, I will want the exact opposite of that which she offers me, and so my love for her will pass. The argument here is that I never really loved her. I only loved her offerings, and her willingness to supply them.
This sort of thing happens everyday. Divorces and breakups happen because people "reach a point in their life" where they feel that they need something else. And it's true, they do. And fighting against these feelings is unnatural. Relationships can drag on and on, but regardless the truth is evident, those things which previously defined the love between companions, aren't important any more, and by virtue of that, their love for each other is equally unimportant.
How then can love stand the test of time? Only if love is personal, and undefined in terms of wants and expectations. Upon realising this, I can come to terms with the fact that although my love for the lady at work was pure in an objective and detached way, it wasn't personal, and so it wasn't really pure at all. Love isn't any of those things she can offer me. Love isn't even the way I feel as she embraces me in her arms and tells me how deeply she feels about me.
When the time comes, I will have found her, and all those who know that I know of real love ask me, "Jamil, what is real love?" there will be no answer that will even compare to the answer that I will offer. To each and every one of them, I will simply say, "Love is her."
Before I go further off on that tangent of an analogy, I'll get get back to the point. I don't think love is out there. It seems almost silly to go out and look for that somebody who has all of those qualities you feel you need in a companion. Why do I say all of this? Let me offer an example, one that is not entirely true, but I embellish to prove a point.
Today I am in love with his lady that works at my bank. She's 11 years older then me, and has a kid half my age. She's gorgeous and would undeniably satisfy all of those desires. Most importantly - or soon you'll see, least importantly - I feel, she's perfect for me because she can give me everything I want. I have this vision of her offering me what no other girl can right now, an uncompromisingly nurturing relationship with a strong emotional connection. Actually, other girls might be able to, but my feelings are such that I think she's the best candidate. Blah blah blah, for those reasons and more she's perfect for me in ways most others will never understand (the timeless love story).
Tomorrow, I will not be in love with her. Not because my love for her is impure, I know that it is. But tomorrow I will not love her, because in actuality I only loved those things which I felt she could offer me - the uncompromisingly nurturing stuff and so forth. Tomorrow I will wake up and naturally I will want something completely different. I will want someone who doesn't have a kid, perhaps, because I will come to fear such responsibility at my age. Tomorrow I will want somebody to study with, and somebody who'll know what I mean when I ramble on about philosophy and econ, and doesn't know the first thing about banking! Tomorrow, I will want the exact opposite of that which she offers me, and so my love for her will pass. The argument here is that I never really loved her. I only loved her offerings, and her willingness to supply them.
This sort of thing happens everyday. Divorces and breakups happen because people "reach a point in their life" where they feel that they need something else. And it's true, they do. And fighting against these feelings is unnatural. Relationships can drag on and on, but regardless the truth is evident, those things which previously defined the love between companions, aren't important any more, and by virtue of that, their love for each other is equally unimportant.
How then can love stand the test of time? Only if love is personal, and undefined in terms of wants and expectations. Upon realising this, I can come to terms with the fact that although my love for the lady at work was pure in an objective and detached way, it wasn't personal, and so it wasn't really pure at all. Love isn't any of those things she can offer me. Love isn't even the way I feel as she embraces me in her arms and tells me how deeply she feels about me.
When the time comes, I will have found her, and all those who know that I know of real love ask me, "Jamil, what is real love?" there will be no answer that will even compare to the answer that I will offer. To each and every one of them, I will simply say, "Love is her."
Sunday, February 06, 2005
I'll be the first...
... to give kudos to Vince Carter. Toronto can suck his left nut as it seems. Every Raptor fan has mad hatred for him, and to them I say, BUN all of you! He did the right thing.
His faults: Man that guy started taking low percentage shots, getting injured all the time, and tying to be a one man show.
So yea, all of that stems from him being arrogant. But wouldn't you be arrogant if you single-handedly brought back the dunk competition? And if you wrecked the competition in front of the world, introduced nike's new shoe, and jumped over a guy who's 7 feet tall, you'd probably throw up some off balance shots against the Wizards as well.
Everyone on the Raptors gets injured. Our freaking court is on top of a solid rock ice rink! (When there's hockey at least!) Fact of the matter is, Kobe was just as big a hog, just as arrogant, and yet he has like 3-4 rings and less injuries to his name... why? Phil Jackson!! Best coach we ever brought in was like.... Lenny Wilkins? The most winningest (and losingest) coach of NBA history? That's the problem with over-adherence to statistics... Raptors management should invest in a coach who... hmm.. maybe wins championships!! Get a friggin NCAA coach! Not tired assitant coaches from other mid-table teams! Bun Raptors Mgmt
Bun Raptors Fans... when Vince was up, Toronto was in a state of Vin-sanity, as they called it. Then he's down and everyone jabs at him. How many times you think you can kick a man while he's down, before he simply stays down until he can afford to leave? Watch out Chris Bosh, your the next commodity whose raw talent will be exploited!
If I start talking about my own frustrations right now I won't stop and I got an exam monday. Peace out!
His faults: Man that guy started taking low percentage shots, getting injured all the time, and tying to be a one man show.
So yea, all of that stems from him being arrogant. But wouldn't you be arrogant if you single-handedly brought back the dunk competition? And if you wrecked the competition in front of the world, introduced nike's new shoe, and jumped over a guy who's 7 feet tall, you'd probably throw up some off balance shots against the Wizards as well.
Everyone on the Raptors gets injured. Our freaking court is on top of a solid rock ice rink! (When there's hockey at least!) Fact of the matter is, Kobe was just as big a hog, just as arrogant, and yet he has like 3-4 rings and less injuries to his name... why? Phil Jackson!! Best coach we ever brought in was like.... Lenny Wilkins? The most winningest (and losingest) coach of NBA history? That's the problem with over-adherence to statistics... Raptors management should invest in a coach who... hmm.. maybe wins championships!! Get a friggin NCAA coach! Not tired assitant coaches from other mid-table teams! Bun Raptors Mgmt
Bun Raptors Fans... when Vince was up, Toronto was in a state of Vin-sanity, as they called it. Then he's down and everyone jabs at him. How many times you think you can kick a man while he's down, before he simply stays down until he can afford to leave? Watch out Chris Bosh, your the next commodity whose raw talent will be exploited!
If I start talking about my own frustrations right now I won't stop and I got an exam monday. Peace out!
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Jamil's Revolution in Post-Secondary Education.
Introduction
These days they say somewhere around 75% of university graduates have careers that are entirely unrelated to what they studied in university. Money and fresh years of life wasted, and nothing to show for it but a compromised spirit. I wish university was structured differently.
I wish it was such that instead of declaring a major a minor or a specialist, you could simply declare that you would like to have a 1 year "Diploma" or a 2 year degree, or a 3 year degree. So if for instance if you wanted a basic diploma in the humanities, you would spend a year learning about humanities and you would devote yourself entirely to that discipline. If you liked it enough to get a solid academic understanding of the subject matter, you would undergo a 2nd year, a grueling year of advanced theory in the subject, giving you a 2-year degree, equivalent ot a major today. If you wanted to learn enough to get accpeted into grad school, you would undergo a 3rd year of super-advanced theory, which would gear you up for grad school years. For the MBA program, since they want applicants with experience, this 3rd year could incorporate focused networking with employers in your stream, alongside a focused study on your desired stream. This would be an honours program.
Like for instance a stream of management - in your first year you would take the gambit of courses in the division of management. So this would be like all of the first year courses, accounting/finance, econ, management, finance, and like HR. If you don't like it, you leave it with an Diploma in management, acknowledging your basic knowledge in the field. If you find a stream you have a passion for, you declare it and move on to your next 2 years to get your diploma or honours diploma. So like, in your second year, you declare you want to persue econ, and so you take the 2 micro and 2 macro courses, and some other econ related courses, econ of health care, econometrics (stats), calculus, etc.. if you hate your degree after 2nd year, you leave with a degree in econ, cuz let's be honest, after anywhere between 8 and 10 courses in economics, you have enough knowledge to be able to say, "yea i know a little economics." Finally, if you seriously love econ and want to teach it (like me!) or get a safe gov't job with it, and do your masters and phd and all of that, you take the 3rd year, which is like grueling intense advanced economics theory and application. So your 3rd year is basically a feeder into a master's program.
Body
Now you could do this for any stream of study, the arts, the sciences, as well as business studies, all of the traditional courses hold, just the structure would change. This is why I think my revolution is superior to the current structure of university.
As I see it, there are 4 types of university students:
a) Not sure what they want to do as a career in life, still trying to find out, but wants to find a path
b) Not sure what they want to do in life, or simply doesn't care, they simply come upon higher education for the love of learning
c) Pretty sure of what they want to do in life, just following the path needed for success
d) Pretty sure what they want to do in life, but turns out they're wrong, and they realise this during the process.
-Any university student today who has even once questioned his or her choice in education knows which of these 4 students falls through the cracks of the traditional university structure and how, so i won't waste time describing that, however I will outline how all 4 students are better supported by my new structure. So if you're bored already, choose which of the students best describes you and check out my brief outline. But be sure to read D, I like D.
A) Currently this person is forced to pick a subject they want to enter before university even starts, most often they don't enjoy it and so after 1st year they have to find a new stream of study with little or no exposure to that subject, and no valid reason to choose it. But they have to choose, because you only have 4 years to get any acknowledgement for anything you do in university. But with my structure, you leave highschool, pick a stream you think you enjoy or will make you money, and you try it for a year, if you suck at it or hate it, you get accrediation for it, so future employers and such will know that you have a background in it, just not an extensive one, and you move on. Feasibly, you could tackle like 4 streams of study, from english to physics, to management to chemistry, etc. right across the board, and still specialize in something like politics, or econ, or whatever, and do all of that in 6 years. Just imagine! Having a substantial and specific understanding of 4 university streams, then finally finding your path and having an extensive understanding of something you love in 6 years. Considering the vast majority of these types take 4-5 years to find nothing that they like, but something they can tolerate, with a tacked-on "minor in something," i think that's quite the improvement.
B) So, I'm assuming that when this guy decides he know longer wants to be a career student, he's going to want to get a job. So even if he spends 8 years messing around, and he took, Women's Studies, Sociology, Psychology, Management, Science, English (2 years), and Physics. So he's 25 years old (provided he come out of HS @ 17 like these new kids do!) and he knows a fair amount about a fair amount, but the only thing he liked enough to do for 2 years was english. He started off, (and still is) so lost and undecisive, but he wants to do something like writing, or teaching. Look at how well prepared he is! He's 25, and look at how broad his horizons are. If he wants to teach, just imagine what he's bringing to the table at teacher's college with knowledge in 7 disciplines. If he wants to be a writer, well he's got a huge background of knowledge and he's only 25. He could spend 4 years travelling to gain some experiences and become one of the most knoledgable writers of our time before he hits 30! Hell he could off the law school and try that out, finish before he hits 30 and know more about the world then most of our current politicians even claim to know! He is no longer bounded by shackles of picking a major and minor, he is free to use academics for his own purposes.
C) So, you're in the sciences. You're going to be a doctor. Your parents told you so, and you've agreed. You take the 3 year sicence program, and you're ready for med school when you're 20. badda bing. Or...
So, you want to be the CEO of GM, and you love money but merely tolerate people, and you just want to get the paper saying you know anything and everything about being a controller, you spend 3 years doing that, and finish when you're 20! But employers like well-rounded candidates, so you spend a year learning the ins and outs of sociology, and another year learning everything about psychology. Now you're 22, and know all about money and all about people, what's stopping you from making 80,000 a year? No experience? Well you're 22. Young enough to go get some! Or you could get into a coop program whose structure i didn't bother desribe because it's the same shit plus you work in the summers instead of doing nothing! Imagine that 22 year years old and ready to do an MBA, or go out and start that business, or get that middle-management job. Or...
Whatever! Whatever your passion is, you can explore it at an accelerated rate, faster then you would wasting your time with electives, or minors that you sleep through just to appear well-rounded. If you need to appear well-rounded, cuz employers or grad-school demands it invest a year in actually really learning about that other subject matter. It's so much more authentic being able to say, "I spent a year learning the ins and outs of..." that other discipline, rather then "Every year i had to take an elective in..." that other discipline, and the knowledge is more focused.
D) So your parents say you're going to be a doctor, and you agree. You spend 2 years in science and find out you want to be an artist. You're 19. You pick up a paint brush and spend a year trying that out but nobody seems to enjoy your interpretation of stick-men, so you quit that after a year. You're 20. You realise it wasn't really the art you loved but the freedom of thought in art that you loved so you try philosophy for 2 years, and come to an epistemological conclusion that philosophy is a purposeless adventure for the mind and quit philosophy. You're 22. Philosophy has you confused, but you know only 2 things:
a) You think, therefore you exist
b) You exist, therefore you need money.
So you try business for 2 years, but hate it and stop. You're 24. Through all of this you realise that what you really want to do is to play professional soccer, or baskeball. You're still 24, so you can actually do it. You try it out, it works and you play basketball for 6 years, then your knees give and you have to retire, but you spent all your money on women and cars with big rims so you're broke. You're 30, and broke. You persued your dream but now that's over. Now all you really want is a job and a family, but how will you get one? Easy, You have a degree in philosophy, a degree in science, and a degree in business. The horizon is endless.
Conclusion
Even for the most indecisive of people, getting a degree under my revision-of-structure for higher education is a much smarter decsion. Why? Because persuing a discipline under my structure comes at a lower risk (less time involved, with a stronger focus on that discipline, while still a prestigiously academic focus, unlike traditional trade schools. With this lower risk, there is actually a higher return! Why? Because with whatever you end up wanting to do: if it has anything to do with your chosen discipline you can go at it faster, if it has nothing to do with education, you can go at that faster and waste less time in school, and most importantly, since less time is wasted, you have more time to authentically find out what you actually love, in life.
My finance people will ask the obvious question, "Low risk but High returns, how?" because the number one rule in finance is "There's no such thing as a free lunch!" meaning you can't get something for nothing, and surely you can't get something for less! Lower risk should equal lower returns, and high risk with high returns. So how does all of this balance out? Easy, the universities take on higher risk and lower returns. How? They bear the risk of having students getting degree after degree from the universities (potentially 5 degrees before they even hit 30 years of age) which brings down the relative value of such degrees (the 'dime-a-dozen' phenomenon). As for the lower returns, with the falling relative value of the degrees comes a falling credibility and prestige of the University. Prestige is the foundation upon which universities generate money. Think of it, why did you come to the University of Toronto over Ryerson? Aside from the tacky Yellow and Blue colour scheme, it was really about the name brand!
There's no escaping this tradeoff between the students and universities, except for one. If every and all universities changed their structure, then the relative value of the universities would remain unchanged, and we could all get a free lunch! So if this long-ass theory of mine has any merit, it still has no application unless it was enforced countrywide! I guess, just as history teaches us, you don't change the world one step at a time; it actually takes one giant leap!
c1995 Jan 22nd! Jamil Lumley's Work. I'll spare you and myself the legal jargon, but don't copy my shit!! I plan on publishing a book sometime after my undergraduate, and what i've written here will be at least in part in my work. Probably more formally although.
These days they say somewhere around 75% of university graduates have careers that are entirely unrelated to what they studied in university. Money and fresh years of life wasted, and nothing to show for it but a compromised spirit. I wish university was structured differently.
I wish it was such that instead of declaring a major a minor or a specialist, you could simply declare that you would like to have a 1 year "Diploma" or a 2 year degree, or a 3 year degree. So if for instance if you wanted a basic diploma in the humanities, you would spend a year learning about humanities and you would devote yourself entirely to that discipline. If you liked it enough to get a solid academic understanding of the subject matter, you would undergo a 2nd year, a grueling year of advanced theory in the subject, giving you a 2-year degree, equivalent ot a major today. If you wanted to learn enough to get accpeted into grad school, you would undergo a 3rd year of super-advanced theory, which would gear you up for grad school years. For the MBA program, since they want applicants with experience, this 3rd year could incorporate focused networking with employers in your stream, alongside a focused study on your desired stream. This would be an honours program.
Like for instance a stream of management - in your first year you would take the gambit of courses in the division of management. So this would be like all of the first year courses, accounting/finance, econ, management, finance, and like HR. If you don't like it, you leave it with an Diploma in management, acknowledging your basic knowledge in the field. If you find a stream you have a passion for, you declare it and move on to your next 2 years to get your diploma or honours diploma. So like, in your second year, you declare you want to persue econ, and so you take the 2 micro and 2 macro courses, and some other econ related courses, econ of health care, econometrics (stats), calculus, etc.. if you hate your degree after 2nd year, you leave with a degree in econ, cuz let's be honest, after anywhere between 8 and 10 courses in economics, you have enough knowledge to be able to say, "yea i know a little economics." Finally, if you seriously love econ and want to teach it (like me!) or get a safe gov't job with it, and do your masters and phd and all of that, you take the 3rd year, which is like grueling intense advanced economics theory and application. So your 3rd year is basically a feeder into a master's program.
Body
Now you could do this for any stream of study, the arts, the sciences, as well as business studies, all of the traditional courses hold, just the structure would change. This is why I think my revolution is superior to the current structure of university.
As I see it, there are 4 types of university students:
a) Not sure what they want to do as a career in life, still trying to find out, but wants to find a path
b) Not sure what they want to do in life, or simply doesn't care, they simply come upon higher education for the love of learning
c) Pretty sure of what they want to do in life, just following the path needed for success
d) Pretty sure what they want to do in life, but turns out they're wrong, and they realise this during the process.
-Any university student today who has even once questioned his or her choice in education knows which of these 4 students falls through the cracks of the traditional university structure and how, so i won't waste time describing that, however I will outline how all 4 students are better supported by my new structure. So if you're bored already, choose which of the students best describes you and check out my brief outline. But be sure to read D, I like D.
A) Currently this person is forced to pick a subject they want to enter before university even starts, most often they don't enjoy it and so after 1st year they have to find a new stream of study with little or no exposure to that subject, and no valid reason to choose it. But they have to choose, because you only have 4 years to get any acknowledgement for anything you do in university. But with my structure, you leave highschool, pick a stream you think you enjoy or will make you money, and you try it for a year, if you suck at it or hate it, you get accrediation for it, so future employers and such will know that you have a background in it, just not an extensive one, and you move on. Feasibly, you could tackle like 4 streams of study, from english to physics, to management to chemistry, etc. right across the board, and still specialize in something like politics, or econ, or whatever, and do all of that in 6 years. Just imagine! Having a substantial and specific understanding of 4 university streams, then finally finding your path and having an extensive understanding of something you love in 6 years. Considering the vast majority of these types take 4-5 years to find nothing that they like, but something they can tolerate, with a tacked-on "minor in something," i think that's quite the improvement.
B) So, I'm assuming that when this guy decides he know longer wants to be a career student, he's going to want to get a job. So even if he spends 8 years messing around, and he took, Women's Studies, Sociology, Psychology, Management, Science, English (2 years), and Physics. So he's 25 years old (provided he come out of HS @ 17 like these new kids do!) and he knows a fair amount about a fair amount, but the only thing he liked enough to do for 2 years was english. He started off, (and still is) so lost and undecisive, but he wants to do something like writing, or teaching. Look at how well prepared he is! He's 25, and look at how broad his horizons are. If he wants to teach, just imagine what he's bringing to the table at teacher's college with knowledge in 7 disciplines. If he wants to be a writer, well he's got a huge background of knowledge and he's only 25. He could spend 4 years travelling to gain some experiences and become one of the most knoledgable writers of our time before he hits 30! Hell he could off the law school and try that out, finish before he hits 30 and know more about the world then most of our current politicians even claim to know! He is no longer bounded by shackles of picking a major and minor, he is free to use academics for his own purposes.
C) So, you're in the sciences. You're going to be a doctor. Your parents told you so, and you've agreed. You take the 3 year sicence program, and you're ready for med school when you're 20. badda bing. Or...
So, you want to be the CEO of GM, and you love money but merely tolerate people, and you just want to get the paper saying you know anything and everything about being a controller, you spend 3 years doing that, and finish when you're 20! But employers like well-rounded candidates, so you spend a year learning the ins and outs of sociology, and another year learning everything about psychology. Now you're 22, and know all about money and all about people, what's stopping you from making 80,000 a year? No experience? Well you're 22. Young enough to go get some! Or you could get into a coop program whose structure i didn't bother desribe because it's the same shit plus you work in the summers instead of doing nothing! Imagine that 22 year years old and ready to do an MBA, or go out and start that business, or get that middle-management job. Or...
Whatever! Whatever your passion is, you can explore it at an accelerated rate, faster then you would wasting your time with electives, or minors that you sleep through just to appear well-rounded. If you need to appear well-rounded, cuz employers or grad-school demands it invest a year in actually really learning about that other subject matter. It's so much more authentic being able to say, "I spent a year learning the ins and outs of..." that other discipline, rather then "Every year i had to take an elective in..." that other discipline, and the knowledge is more focused.
D) So your parents say you're going to be a doctor, and you agree. You spend 2 years in science and find out you want to be an artist. You're 19. You pick up a paint brush and spend a year trying that out but nobody seems to enjoy your interpretation of stick-men, so you quit that after a year. You're 20. You realise it wasn't really the art you loved but the freedom of thought in art that you loved so you try philosophy for 2 years, and come to an epistemological conclusion that philosophy is a purposeless adventure for the mind and quit philosophy. You're 22. Philosophy has you confused, but you know only 2 things:
a) You think, therefore you exist
b) You exist, therefore you need money.
So you try business for 2 years, but hate it and stop. You're 24. Through all of this you realise that what you really want to do is to play professional soccer, or baskeball. You're still 24, so you can actually do it. You try it out, it works and you play basketball for 6 years, then your knees give and you have to retire, but you spent all your money on women and cars with big rims so you're broke. You're 30, and broke. You persued your dream but now that's over. Now all you really want is a job and a family, but how will you get one? Easy, You have a degree in philosophy, a degree in science, and a degree in business. The horizon is endless.
Conclusion
Even for the most indecisive of people, getting a degree under my revision-of-structure for higher education is a much smarter decsion. Why? Because persuing a discipline under my structure comes at a lower risk (less time involved, with a stronger focus on that discipline, while still a prestigiously academic focus, unlike traditional trade schools. With this lower risk, there is actually a higher return! Why? Because with whatever you end up wanting to do: if it has anything to do with your chosen discipline you can go at it faster, if it has nothing to do with education, you can go at that faster and waste less time in school, and most importantly, since less time is wasted, you have more time to authentically find out what you actually love, in life.
My finance people will ask the obvious question, "Low risk but High returns, how?" because the number one rule in finance is "There's no such thing as a free lunch!" meaning you can't get something for nothing, and surely you can't get something for less! Lower risk should equal lower returns, and high risk with high returns. So how does all of this balance out? Easy, the universities take on higher risk and lower returns. How? They bear the risk of having students getting degree after degree from the universities (potentially 5 degrees before they even hit 30 years of age) which brings down the relative value of such degrees (the 'dime-a-dozen' phenomenon). As for the lower returns, with the falling relative value of the degrees comes a falling credibility and prestige of the University. Prestige is the foundation upon which universities generate money. Think of it, why did you come to the University of Toronto over Ryerson? Aside from the tacky Yellow and Blue colour scheme, it was really about the name brand!
There's no escaping this tradeoff between the students and universities, except for one. If every and all universities changed their structure, then the relative value of the universities would remain unchanged, and we could all get a free lunch! So if this long-ass theory of mine has any merit, it still has no application unless it was enforced countrywide! I guess, just as history teaches us, you don't change the world one step at a time; it actually takes one giant leap!
c1995 Jan 22nd! Jamil Lumley's Work. I'll spare you and myself the legal jargon, but don't copy my shit!! I plan on publishing a book sometime after my undergraduate, and what i've written here will be at least in part in my work. Probably more formally although.
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