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

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!

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

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.

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!

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.

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.