Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
TOW: Blessings
I attended a very good mass this evening, and for once, I was not only very attentive, but also very connected. The priest was speaking on a subject I myself am currently wrestling with, which is what can be considered a blessing in one's life?
The wonderful, and also the most challenging thing about being a Christian is the fact that even the saddest of trials are meant to be blessings in our lives. We often call Mary, the mother of Jesus, the Blessed Mother of the Church. We considered her to be the most blessed human being, other than Jesus.
But what made her so blessed? Pregnant before marriage in a time when it was punishable by death, the cause of hundreds of infant deaths because some crazy king believed he would be overthrown by a baby born under the star of Bethlehem, exiled to another country as a refugee, she followed her son around, and watched him get punished and crucified by her own people and leaders within her community.
As the priest mentioned, "Do you think Mary felt blessed then?"
The wonderful thing about being a Christian, and about the birth of Jesus, the Annunciation, and Easter, is the Christian response to evil in the world. It's also the stumbling block for all non-Christians. It's because Christians believe that God allows certain evil things, things we don't understand, to happen. Why do people have to die? Why does evil exist?
The question I struggle with regularly is the problem of evil...but I feel relatively at ease with where I am with my own answer. Blessings still abound amongst a world filled with things that are 'not right.'
I think that blessings for a Christian means a perspective. I cannot explain the presence of God in any other way other than to say that all those things...those small things which can seemingly ruin our lives, small things that turn into large things that makes us obsessed, full of neuroses, damaged...these things are nothing to a blessed person. Because someone blessed does not ignore the importance of evil in the world...but it is so much less. The experience of God, the experience of the reality of good is so strong, that acknowledgement of evil does not affect the trajectory of goodness. Goodness is always pointed straight at it's target.
So, this season, I will not be looking to 'count' my blessings. I am aiming for something better than that.
Monday, December 10, 2012
TOW: Productivity
This isn't a long thought, but sometimes productivity can get in the way of things that really matter in your life.
As we come closer to the Christmas season (and especially, as a Catholic, during Advent) it's a time of reflection on the goodness of life, and the joy that is possible.
I know that lately, in my life, I take getting things done as a sign of success, versus the ability to reflect on things, which I think is it's own kind of success.
Action, and reflection are two important things that make us human, and thoughtful. One without the other is often meaningless.
Sometimes too much of one leads to not enough of the other.
One of the reasons I love winter is because it forces us to really curl up in whatever place we call home, and spend quality time with ourselves, our family, and those we love.
Productivity is action, but action in the sense of doing those things you love. Reflection is about thinking on those things worth loving, and thinking of how to pursue them in an intelligent and strategic manner.
Life has meaning when we are productive. But productivity isn't always about results....sometimes it's about the ability to know what those results mean.
As we come closer to the Christmas season (and especially, as a Catholic, during Advent) it's a time of reflection on the goodness of life, and the joy that is possible.
I know that lately, in my life, I take getting things done as a sign of success, versus the ability to reflect on things, which I think is it's own kind of success.
Action, and reflection are two important things that make us human, and thoughtful. One without the other is often meaningless.
Sometimes too much of one leads to not enough of the other.
One of the reasons I love winter is because it forces us to really curl up in whatever place we call home, and spend quality time with ourselves, our family, and those we love.
Productivity is action, but action in the sense of doing those things you love. Reflection is about thinking on those things worth loving, and thinking of how to pursue them in an intelligent and strategic manner.
Life has meaning when we are productive. But productivity isn't always about results....sometimes it's about the ability to know what those results mean.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
TOW: I had the time of my life
I spoke with my good friend Liz about a man I met in a bar last night. He was 38, single, and he was dressed in the same kind of clothes I was wearing. We chatted outside for a while, and the conversation, while pleasant, revealed one thing to me.
This man was not happy with the phase of his life.
Perhaps he hadn't yet discovered how to be a man in his late 30s. Without trying to be rude, I do think the man sincerely wished he was still in his 20s. I can see myself feeling that way when I am his age. Maybe.
But I don't think I will be.
Over the last few years, I have had a bad habit of going to bars, having quite a bit to drink, making out with strangers, getting random phone numbers, etc.
It was fun. I was going through a couple of rough things in my life and quite frankly, I needed some form of release. Cue on booze-loving friend and a whole lot of drama later, and you have a good summary of my life in Toronto. It was hard. There were a lot of very hard things. I did what some people do when things are very hard. You try to forget who you are, at least for a little while, and try to live a life of adventure that doesn't make you worry about who you are versus who you should be.
It's a bad way to live your life, though it is a very good way to get over things you never want to have in your life ever again. And I think I'm in that place...now. After 3-4 years. It was a time in my life, and that time is now passing. I do believe another time in my life is coming on. And I'm happy to move towards it.
I believe every time in our lives has an expiry date. We can only be a certain way for so long. If we take too long, our peers leave us behind. Which can be ok, sometimes. But most of the time, people who are out of sync with themselves make us uncomfortable.
I am now much more interested in living the kind of life that advances meaning, learning, and prestige in my life. For a while I needed adventure. Now I need a certain amount of stability to couple with my spirit of adventure.
And I am searching for those things that will make my life stable and yet still interesting. It's a struggle, but changing life phases is part of what life is all about.
And also, in a way, part of who I am. I'm someone always changing. And I kind of like that about myself.
This man was not happy with the phase of his life.
Perhaps he hadn't yet discovered how to be a man in his late 30s. Without trying to be rude, I do think the man sincerely wished he was still in his 20s. I can see myself feeling that way when I am his age. Maybe.
But I don't think I will be.
Over the last few years, I have had a bad habit of going to bars, having quite a bit to drink, making out with strangers, getting random phone numbers, etc.
It was fun. I was going through a couple of rough things in my life and quite frankly, I needed some form of release. Cue on booze-loving friend and a whole lot of drama later, and you have a good summary of my life in Toronto. It was hard. There were a lot of very hard things. I did what some people do when things are very hard. You try to forget who you are, at least for a little while, and try to live a life of adventure that doesn't make you worry about who you are versus who you should be.
It's a bad way to live your life, though it is a very good way to get over things you never want to have in your life ever again. And I think I'm in that place...now. After 3-4 years. It was a time in my life, and that time is now passing. I do believe another time in my life is coming on. And I'm happy to move towards it.
I believe every time in our lives has an expiry date. We can only be a certain way for so long. If we take too long, our peers leave us behind. Which can be ok, sometimes. But most of the time, people who are out of sync with themselves make us uncomfortable.
I am now much more interested in living the kind of life that advances meaning, learning, and prestige in my life. For a while I needed adventure. Now I need a certain amount of stability to couple with my spirit of adventure.
And I am searching for those things that will make my life stable and yet still interesting. It's a struggle, but changing life phases is part of what life is all about.
And also, in a way, part of who I am. I'm someone always changing. And I kind of like that about myself.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
TOW: Organizational skills
It's been a really crazy week, and I lost a lot of sleep. Part of that sleep loss was definitely because I wasn't as organized as I would have liked to be.
I can blame it on the french class that started this week, I can blame it on the president being in three days this week, I can blame it on a lot of things, but really, it just comes down to organization.
What matters, what's a priority?
The problem with prioritizing tasks is you are rarely in control of the entire process. At work, you may want to do certain tasks in a certain order, but sometimes it's your manager or the director that reorganizes your task list for you. And sometimes that can be really upsetting, and make it difficult to 'get back on track.' (I now laugh a sad little laugh when I think of the phrase 'must be able to work in a fast-paced environment.) Worse, when one priority changes, often it affects and entire chain of workloads. Suddenly, you have a completely new schedule. And you have to reorganize things, once again.
Though my friends often give me that narrow-eyed look when I talk about being organized, I secretly am. I have lists upon lists that I use to organize my life. To do lists, check boxes, that I constantly revise to update what I am doing and where I am going.
The problem is not being organized. The problem is prioritization of tasks, and knowing how long a task will take. I find that I often fail to take into account how long a task will take, even though I make a plan for it. (This, my friends and family would certainly agree with....if they've ever watched me make a meal.)
I think I am trying to get my life back on a schedule that isn't simply events with friends...and |I'm starting to do more 'time-blocks' of activities, such as my French class, blocking off time to work on my game, and volunteering. |I have a couple ideas for volunteering I'd really like to fulfill actually. I just hope I can find the time come the new year.
But like all things in life, I seem to want things to happen now, and, in a bull-headed manner, charge straight towards a goal. Once I plan something initially, sometimes I swear I think force of will propels me to success. And sometimes it does. But sometimes it doesn't. And that's where the phrase 'smarter, not harder' certainly applies.
And I'm certainly trying to do things smarter. I just hope I eventually get there. >_>
I can blame it on the french class that started this week, I can blame it on the president being in three days this week, I can blame it on a lot of things, but really, it just comes down to organization.
What matters, what's a priority?
The problem with prioritizing tasks is you are rarely in control of the entire process. At work, you may want to do certain tasks in a certain order, but sometimes it's your manager or the director that reorganizes your task list for you. And sometimes that can be really upsetting, and make it difficult to 'get back on track.' (I now laugh a sad little laugh when I think of the phrase 'must be able to work in a fast-paced environment.) Worse, when one priority changes, often it affects and entire chain of workloads. Suddenly, you have a completely new schedule. And you have to reorganize things, once again.
Though my friends often give me that narrow-eyed look when I talk about being organized, I secretly am. I have lists upon lists that I use to organize my life. To do lists, check boxes, that I constantly revise to update what I am doing and where I am going.
The problem is not being organized. The problem is prioritization of tasks, and knowing how long a task will take. I find that I often fail to take into account how long a task will take, even though I make a plan for it. (This, my friends and family would certainly agree with....if they've ever watched me make a meal.)
I think I am trying to get my life back on a schedule that isn't simply events with friends...and |I'm starting to do more 'time-blocks' of activities, such as my French class, blocking off time to work on my game, and volunteering. |I have a couple ideas for volunteering I'd really like to fulfill actually. I just hope I can find the time come the new year.
But like all things in life, I seem to want things to happen now, and, in a bull-headed manner, charge straight towards a goal. Once I plan something initially, sometimes I swear I think force of will propels me to success. And sometimes it does. But sometimes it doesn't. And that's where the phrase 'smarter, not harder' certainly applies.
And I'm certainly trying to do things smarter. I just hope I eventually get there. >_>
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
TOW: Expectations
I think we all get caught up in expectations.
Whether we expect a raise, a promotion, a proposal, a fated meeting, or even an exam result.
And we don't assume something...we all just hope for the best, and sometimes that hope turns into an image in our mind....a thing that you wish could be realized.
What I have been thinking about recently is about what I expect of others, and what others expect of me.
I think others expect a lot of me....and I think I regularly fail them in their expectations.
Sometimes I wish I was better than I am.
Other times I wish other people were better than they were.
But most of all, I wish people understood each other better.
Whether we expect a raise, a promotion, a proposal, a fated meeting, or even an exam result.
And we don't assume something...we all just hope for the best, and sometimes that hope turns into an image in our mind....a thing that you wish could be realized.
What I have been thinking about recently is about what I expect of others, and what others expect of me.
I think others expect a lot of me....and I think I regularly fail them in their expectations.
Sometimes I wish I was better than I am.
Other times I wish other people were better than they were.
But most of all, I wish people understood each other better.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
TOW: Faith
Faith.
I have been thinking a lot about the idea of faith as a concept. It's not something that people talk about much these days. You don't often hear the term 'have faith in me' or ' I will always be faithful.' Faith in people, ideas, or concepts is lost on this generation, and perhaps on this particular era's agnostic milieu. Faith is a dying concept for people of my generation. And it continues to bear less importance in daily Western culture as reason, and science, continue to showcase interesting things to consumers of culture. But what does faith mean in a moral sense?
To me, faith is an important aspect of moral life. No good can be done without faith. Good actions can only happen when we do more than assume, when we see something so clearly in our hearts that we wish to make real, that we bring forth an idea, a feeling, a desire into action. Faith can show the strength of our resolve. Love is weak-will when one does not have faith. Hope is meaningless if there is no strength of action that can see hope through a dark storm. In many ways, faith is an intention as much as a belief: a belief, or perhaps even a desire for the good to be done in the world as it should be. And to believe in things that cannot be seen, except by our hearts and minds.
In a religious sense, faith, hope, and love form the start of all Christian beliefs. Nothing can be done without these three standing together.
And one of the problems of modernity is being too hung up in deliverables, practicals, and small details. Faith was something that built cathedrals of old, inspired art that went on for hundreds, or thousands of years. Faith moved mountains. And those who had faith were much richer for it.
Today, I think about the value and role of faith in my own life. It is interesting to see how faith has become less important as I become older, and the need to 'validate' becoming ever more important. I hpe one day I can return to those eyes I had, that gave me all I needed to succeed, by believing what I was doing was going to create good in my life, and in the lives of those around me. Because faith, like St. Augustine says, 'is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.'
I want, one day, to be able to say I did that.
I have been thinking a lot about the idea of faith as a concept. It's not something that people talk about much these days. You don't often hear the term 'have faith in me' or ' I will always be faithful.' Faith in people, ideas, or concepts is lost on this generation, and perhaps on this particular era's agnostic milieu. Faith is a dying concept for people of my generation. And it continues to bear less importance in daily Western culture as reason, and science, continue to showcase interesting things to consumers of culture. But what does faith mean in a moral sense?
To me, faith is an important aspect of moral life. No good can be done without faith. Good actions can only happen when we do more than assume, when we see something so clearly in our hearts that we wish to make real, that we bring forth an idea, a feeling, a desire into action. Faith can show the strength of our resolve. Love is weak-will when one does not have faith. Hope is meaningless if there is no strength of action that can see hope through a dark storm. In many ways, faith is an intention as much as a belief: a belief, or perhaps even a desire for the good to be done in the world as it should be. And to believe in things that cannot be seen, except by our hearts and minds.
In a religious sense, faith, hope, and love form the start of all Christian beliefs. Nothing can be done without these three standing together.
And one of the problems of modernity is being too hung up in deliverables, practicals, and small details. Faith was something that built cathedrals of old, inspired art that went on for hundreds, or thousands of years. Faith moved mountains. And those who had faith were much richer for it.
Today, I think about the value and role of faith in my own life. It is interesting to see how faith has become less important as I become older, and the need to 'validate' becoming ever more important. I hpe one day I can return to those eyes I had, that gave me all I needed to succeed, by believing what I was doing was going to create good in my life, and in the lives of those around me. Because faith, like St. Augustine says, 'is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.'
I want, one day, to be able to say I did that.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
What's the Meaning of Life?
A lot of people, famous, interesting people, have tried to answer this question.But to me, this question doesn't have value. In fact, it rather seems silly that we think philosophers of any kind sit on rocks, contemplating existence, and saying the benign phrase, "What is the meaning of life?"
What is the meaning of life is like saying, "What is the meaning of chairs? What is the meaning of spiders? What is the meaning of ukelele bandits?" In each case, clarification is required. The question itself doesn't mean anything without clarification.
A better question might be, "What is the meaning of my life? What gives my life meaning?"
Because, as you know, we do not exist as 'everything' that's alive, but we do exist as ourselves. And we can talk about what it means to be alive, as us.
So a good question, and one that I have been thinking about for a very long time, is, "What gives my life meaning?"
And I have thought about many people: friends, family, allies, enemies, peers, strangers--many people, who, day-to-day, make my life interesting and meaningful. I think of the tasks, the chores, the objects (often that remind me of people or feelings) that give my life meaning. The things I enjoy, the things I don't enjoy, etc.
And these are all things that give my life meaning. But this isn't the most important thing to me.
The most important thing in my life comes with another question: "What my purpose in life?". What can I do in the world that will give my life sustainable, ultimate meaning outside of those things that I label pleasurable, unpleasurable, good/bad? Who am I, what do I stand for, and what does that mean in terms of where my life is leading me?
I have thoughts about this, almost daily, and sometimes I wonder about this desire or that desire, but more than anything, I ask myself, "Where can I do good in the world, right now? Where can I find goodness so that I feel I have a purpose in my life?"
Sometimes my purposefullness is simply about being a good friend, listening to someone in need, or doing my job well. Sometimes it's about prayer, about writing, sometimes it's about being my own master of my own domain, life, etc. Sometimes it's about questioning myself and the world around me. Most days I feel like I'm a lot of people in one body. I love to do a lot of different things, and those different things lead me in many different directions.
Maybe we will never be able to completely nail down the meaning in our own lives, especially in this internet age, of information that goes so fast that it cannot be digested before it is already old news. But we can still solidify themes, ideas, moments in our lives that perhaps are driving us towards our purpose, whatever that might be.
What is the meaning of life is like saying, "What is the meaning of chairs? What is the meaning of spiders? What is the meaning of ukelele bandits?" In each case, clarification is required. The question itself doesn't mean anything without clarification.
A better question might be, "What is the meaning of my life? What gives my life meaning?"
Because, as you know, we do not exist as 'everything' that's alive, but we do exist as ourselves. And we can talk about what it means to be alive, as us.
So a good question, and one that I have been thinking about for a very long time, is, "What gives my life meaning?"
And I have thought about many people: friends, family, allies, enemies, peers, strangers--many people, who, day-to-day, make my life interesting and meaningful. I think of the tasks, the chores, the objects (often that remind me of people or feelings) that give my life meaning. The things I enjoy, the things I don't enjoy, etc.
And these are all things that give my life meaning. But this isn't the most important thing to me.
The most important thing in my life comes with another question: "What my purpose in life?". What can I do in the world that will give my life sustainable, ultimate meaning outside of those things that I label pleasurable, unpleasurable, good/bad? Who am I, what do I stand for, and what does that mean in terms of where my life is leading me?
I have thoughts about this, almost daily, and sometimes I wonder about this desire or that desire, but more than anything, I ask myself, "Where can I do good in the world, right now? Where can I find goodness so that I feel I have a purpose in my life?"
Sometimes my purposefullness is simply about being a good friend, listening to someone in need, or doing my job well. Sometimes it's about prayer, about writing, sometimes it's about being my own master of my own domain, life, etc. Sometimes it's about questioning myself and the world around me. Most days I feel like I'm a lot of people in one body. I love to do a lot of different things, and those different things lead me in many different directions.
Maybe we will never be able to completely nail down the meaning in our own lives, especially in this internet age, of information that goes so fast that it cannot be digested before it is already old news. But we can still solidify themes, ideas, moments in our lives that perhaps are driving us towards our purpose, whatever that might be.
Monday, October 08, 2012
TOW: Thanksgiving
Every year around thanksgiving, I tend to do a post about what I'm thankful for.
I'm thankful for several things this year:
I'm thankful for several things this year:
- Great friends, and deepening relationships within my family
- A good work life, which, while it has its challenges, is still worthwhile and giving me the kind of experience I want and need
- My health. I feel very, very lucky in this regard
- My mental health. I feel just as lucky.
- Challenges. I feel like life has been giving me a lot of challenges lately, but not the kind I can't overcome...the kind that make me a stronger and better person. They're the good kind.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
TOW: Feeling Helpless
I've very sorry I haven't blogged since I-don't-know-when. Between my move and work, life has been very busy. And I thought it would be good to share here my feelings over my new apartment.
I loved my apartment the first week I had it. It was quiet here, the people seemed to keep to themselves, and I was looking forward to living in a nice, new, safe area. I had made myself a new home, and it was a liberating feeling.
Then I discovered my apartment was infested with bedbugs. And, my life is officially over for the next year and a half.
For those of you who aren't aware, bedbugs are a small, non-flying bug that feed on you in the middle of the night, much like a mosquito. The only difference is that mosquitos are noticeable and have a fairly short life cycle. Bedbugs, on the other hand, can live for years and breed at a rate of up to five bugs per day, and are resilent and nearly impossible to kill unless you see an adult bug, and you kill it, right then and there. Even better, they hide in your mattress, destroying it as they infest it, since they will defecate right after they eat, then breed in the same spot. In a word, they are vile. Vile beyond words and images. Very few creatures, even in the kingdom of bugs, crap where they eat.
I discovered them 10 days after moving in. A day after my birthday.
I have thrown out half of my belongings, everything else is in garbage bags, quarantined. I am sitting here, in my only ikea chair, which I have sprayed with chemical before, and I have just found out today that bedbugs are living inside of the cushion of my chair. I now know why I would see them crawling across my pant leg as I worked on my computer.
They were definitely here before I moved. because my previous landlord has had no complaints about bed bugs in my previous apartment. I have never had them. The new landlord has been very...threatening. He will not pay for pest control. It's been a rough couple weeks.
I'm going to be out several thousand dollars by time this process is finished, with or without a lawsuit, and I haven't slept more than 3-4 hours a night in a week, without waking up, turning on the lights, and searching for bugs. I can't go anywhere without ironing the inside and outside of my clothes to the point of nearly burning them for fear of them leaving the apartment with me. I have no idea what I'm going to do if another tenant blames me for them, even though, it is not my fault, and I handle everything I do with the utmost care within my unit.
And this week, I want to think and write about how helpless I feel. Not quite at a breaking point, but helpless. I'm sluggish, indecisive, and more emotional than I'd care to admit. Going to bed is a coaching process. Pretending everything is alright so I don't have panic attacks is also a process.
Being in this situation has started to remind me of one of the books that has most impressed me, The Plague by Albert Camus. In it, Camus writes about a community that is quarantined and the medical workers, priests, and mafia that exist in the hellish space of dead bodies, searching for a cure, all while the people die and no one is allowed to leave. Anyone who attempts is shot by the outsiders, who are keeping the town quarantined.
The defining moment in the novel for me was as Dr. Rieux, the protagonist, attempts to treat a young boy, Jacques Othon with a serum he is developing. The child is in his death throes, and the scream he lets out as he dies is so horrific that it affects both Rieux and his colleagues. The serum is ineffective for the youngest, the most vulnerable, perhaps the one most in need. The scream, the feeling of pain, the moment of death, all wrapped together in a sad moment of sickness.
My apartment is like a sick person. Everything that it touches becomes sick with this problem. Everything that enters this apartment slowly goes from 'clean' to 'infected.' Much like the plague, I am isolated and contained, and I have not yet developed a cure, if there even is one available. Some of the characters involved are innocent bystanders, wondering what could happen. At times, I regard people around me in the apartment building with both suspicion, fear and paranoia. Some observers of this issue tell me I have nothing to fear, while others within are completely oblivious to the dangers present.
Such is my situation, a plague of my very own to contend with. I am my very own narrator in an absurd encased world with very little hope of making rational sense of why this happened to me, or where this problem could have arisen.
The one beautiful thing, if still absurd at the end of The Plague, is that it ends. The plague ends, partially due to careful medical care by professionals, and partially due to the absurdity of life, in that eventually diseases go away, even epidemics.
So, too, do I consider my situation to be one like The Plague. It is a situation that promises to be a true trial, no matter what path I take. Nothing good can come of this situation. The only good thing that might arise it things returning to the way they were, or could have been, before I had this problem.
The other scenario is that they follow me wherever I go, much like the plague. For I too, am now part of a general infection that no one wishes to speak or think about. I too, am something to be cleaned, cured, and fixed.
And such a feeling can only leave one feeling helpless.
I loved my apartment the first week I had it. It was quiet here, the people seemed to keep to themselves, and I was looking forward to living in a nice, new, safe area. I had made myself a new home, and it was a liberating feeling.
Then I discovered my apartment was infested with bedbugs. And, my life is officially over for the next year and a half.
For those of you who aren't aware, bedbugs are a small, non-flying bug that feed on you in the middle of the night, much like a mosquito. The only difference is that mosquitos are noticeable and have a fairly short life cycle. Bedbugs, on the other hand, can live for years and breed at a rate of up to five bugs per day, and are resilent and nearly impossible to kill unless you see an adult bug, and you kill it, right then and there. Even better, they hide in your mattress, destroying it as they infest it, since they will defecate right after they eat, then breed in the same spot. In a word, they are vile. Vile beyond words and images. Very few creatures, even in the kingdom of bugs, crap where they eat.
I discovered them 10 days after moving in. A day after my birthday.
I have thrown out half of my belongings, everything else is in garbage bags, quarantined. I am sitting here, in my only ikea chair, which I have sprayed with chemical before, and I have just found out today that bedbugs are living inside of the cushion of my chair. I now know why I would see them crawling across my pant leg as I worked on my computer.
They were definitely here before I moved. because my previous landlord has had no complaints about bed bugs in my previous apartment. I have never had them. The new landlord has been very...threatening. He will not pay for pest control. It's been a rough couple weeks.
I'm going to be out several thousand dollars by time this process is finished, with or without a lawsuit, and I haven't slept more than 3-4 hours a night in a week, without waking up, turning on the lights, and searching for bugs. I can't go anywhere without ironing the inside and outside of my clothes to the point of nearly burning them for fear of them leaving the apartment with me. I have no idea what I'm going to do if another tenant blames me for them, even though, it is not my fault, and I handle everything I do with the utmost care within my unit.
And this week, I want to think and write about how helpless I feel. Not quite at a breaking point, but helpless. I'm sluggish, indecisive, and more emotional than I'd care to admit. Going to bed is a coaching process. Pretending everything is alright so I don't have panic attacks is also a process.
Being in this situation has started to remind me of one of the books that has most impressed me, The Plague by Albert Camus. In it, Camus writes about a community that is quarantined and the medical workers, priests, and mafia that exist in the hellish space of dead bodies, searching for a cure, all while the people die and no one is allowed to leave. Anyone who attempts is shot by the outsiders, who are keeping the town quarantined.
The defining moment in the novel for me was as Dr. Rieux, the protagonist, attempts to treat a young boy, Jacques Othon with a serum he is developing. The child is in his death throes, and the scream he lets out as he dies is so horrific that it affects both Rieux and his colleagues. The serum is ineffective for the youngest, the most vulnerable, perhaps the one most in need. The scream, the feeling of pain, the moment of death, all wrapped together in a sad moment of sickness.
My apartment is like a sick person. Everything that it touches becomes sick with this problem. Everything that enters this apartment slowly goes from 'clean' to 'infected.' Much like the plague, I am isolated and contained, and I have not yet developed a cure, if there even is one available. Some of the characters involved are innocent bystanders, wondering what could happen. At times, I regard people around me in the apartment building with both suspicion, fear and paranoia. Some observers of this issue tell me I have nothing to fear, while others within are completely oblivious to the dangers present.
Such is my situation, a plague of my very own to contend with. I am my very own narrator in an absurd encased world with very little hope of making rational sense of why this happened to me, or where this problem could have arisen.
The one beautiful thing, if still absurd at the end of The Plague, is that it ends. The plague ends, partially due to careful medical care by professionals, and partially due to the absurdity of life, in that eventually diseases go away, even epidemics.
So, too, do I consider my situation to be one like The Plague. It is a situation that promises to be a true trial, no matter what path I take. Nothing good can come of this situation. The only good thing that might arise it things returning to the way they were, or could have been, before I had this problem.
The other scenario is that they follow me wherever I go, much like the plague. For I too, am now part of a general infection that no one wishes to speak or think about. I too, am something to be cleaned, cured, and fixed.
And such a feeling can only leave one feeling helpless.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
TOW: Getting Older
So it was my birthday last Sunday.
And like most birthdays, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Starting with the worst of things: One of my best friends got embarrassingly drunk at my party and left in the middle of it (while alienating all my other friends), I was both hungover and puking from food poisoning on my actual birthday, and I discovered bed bugs in my new apartment the day after my birthday.
The best things: I had 14 people come out to my birthday. And they all wanted to be there and they were all really happy to see me. I can tell you how much that meant to me. When I first arrived in Toronto for the first two years, I had the same people come out to my birthday, every time. And every time, it felt a bit sad because I felt like I wasn't trying hard enough to make new friends. Now I know lots of people that I can trust and that I care about deeply in this city. (Even if I don't care deeply for this city.)
I got tons of phone calls and texts. So many that I couldn't answer them all on my birthday, and so many happy birthday wishes on Facebook it just made me feel really, really great.
I got to sleep all day on my birthday. It felt amazing. (Although I was sick as a dog, I still loved it)
A random friend showed up on my birthday to crash at my new place and he brought me food and drink and we had a little picnic in my furniture-less abode.
Overall, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. It had a little bit of everything: Friend drama, feeling close and loved, a party for many, a party for two, a day of rest, a day of sickness good things, bad things, birthday presents, birthday cake...it was all good.
And all this time I'm getting older, I can only think of one thing: I like being older. I like most of the things that being older brings. I will always miss certain things from my youth, but I think we all miss things we don't have anymore...but generally speaking I'm really happy with the way my life is, and somewhat happy with the direction it's going.
And I think the key to happiness for me these days is to enjoy the getting older bit, and to treasure the moments as they pass, and I feel like I've been doing a really great job of that lately.
Now if only I could get rid of those bedbugs.
And like most birthdays, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Starting with the worst of things: One of my best friends got embarrassingly drunk at my party and left in the middle of it (while alienating all my other friends), I was both hungover and puking from food poisoning on my actual birthday, and I discovered bed bugs in my new apartment the day after my birthday.
The best things: I had 14 people come out to my birthday. And they all wanted to be there and they were all really happy to see me. I can tell you how much that meant to me. When I first arrived in Toronto for the first two years, I had the same people come out to my birthday, every time. And every time, it felt a bit sad because I felt like I wasn't trying hard enough to make new friends. Now I know lots of people that I can trust and that I care about deeply in this city. (Even if I don't care deeply for this city.)
I got tons of phone calls and texts. So many that I couldn't answer them all on my birthday, and so many happy birthday wishes on Facebook it just made me feel really, really great.
I got to sleep all day on my birthday. It felt amazing. (Although I was sick as a dog, I still loved it)
A random friend showed up on my birthday to crash at my new place and he brought me food and drink and we had a little picnic in my furniture-less abode.
Overall, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. It had a little bit of everything: Friend drama, feeling close and loved, a party for many, a party for two, a day of rest, a day of sickness good things, bad things, birthday presents, birthday cake...it was all good.
And all this time I'm getting older, I can only think of one thing: I like being older. I like most of the things that being older brings. I will always miss certain things from my youth, but I think we all miss things we don't have anymore...but generally speaking I'm really happy with the way my life is, and somewhat happy with the direction it's going.
And I think the key to happiness for me these days is to enjoy the getting older bit, and to treasure the moments as they pass, and I feel like I've been doing a really great job of that lately.
Now if only I could get rid of those bedbugs.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
TOW: Let the Universe Give You a Hug
It's often said in 'The Secret' that the law of attraction will get you far in life, and positive thinking attracts positive things your way. But there's something missing from this equation. I like to call it "Let the Universe Give You a Hug."
This principle is very simple. Whenever something bad, untoward, or unlucky happens, immediately stop, and think about how much you wish someone would tell you everything is going to be alright. Then tell yourself, instead of everything is going to be alright, that you deserve a big hug, and that even though it's not perfect life you have, the universe loves you anyways.
The reason this is so important is because positive thinking doesn't work well when something bad happens to us. Humans are cautious by nature, and feel like they can expect bad things over time. During a 'bad time' or 'a stroke of bad luck' we still need a way to weather stormy times. Because positive thinking doesn't always bring good things our way. Sometimes it brings bad things our way.
From the thinking side of things, it's important we think about why things happen to us so we can move on with our lives. Otherwise, we repeat the same mistakes, over and over again. And that's bad.
From the practical side of things, I find the desire to get a giant hug from something bigger and paternal key to making this make me feel infinitely better. Because I think love is what you need to be happy in life, and how we should measure ourselves is not when things are great, but when things are difficult. We all need a little love from something bigger than us when things are hard.
So let the universe give you a hug. It's feel really nice.
This principle is very simple. Whenever something bad, untoward, or unlucky happens, immediately stop, and think about how much you wish someone would tell you everything is going to be alright. Then tell yourself, instead of everything is going to be alright, that you deserve a big hug, and that even though it's not perfect life you have, the universe loves you anyways.
The reason this is so important is because positive thinking doesn't work well when something bad happens to us. Humans are cautious by nature, and feel like they can expect bad things over time. During a 'bad time' or 'a stroke of bad luck' we still need a way to weather stormy times. Because positive thinking doesn't always bring good things our way. Sometimes it brings bad things our way.
From the thinking side of things, it's important we think about why things happen to us so we can move on with our lives. Otherwise, we repeat the same mistakes, over and over again. And that's bad.
From the practical side of things, I find the desire to get a giant hug from something bigger and paternal key to making this make me feel infinitely better. Because I think love is what you need to be happy in life, and how we should measure ourselves is not when things are great, but when things are difficult. We all need a little love from something bigger than us when things are hard.
So let the universe give you a hug. It's feel really nice.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
TOW: Adult Fears
"Ostensibly healthy
life is interspersed with a great number of trivial and in practice
unimportant symptoms [...] neurosis is the inability to tolerate ambiguity." -Sigmund Freud
It's funny how the things that you disliked as a child or teenager become things you hate and fear the older you get.
For example, I used to dislike bugs when I was a child, or messes, when I was younger. Now that I'm older, I find that even seeing a messy kitchen or a messy room can stress me out, and bugs in general I scream like a little girl whenever I see them. (Although maybe that wasn't that different than when I was a child.)
Back in the day, I might have had a slightly negative reaction, but the older I get, I find my reactions to negative events in my life to be more and more extreme.
And it's not just me who feels this way. There's the cafe mocha drinking-lady who starts yelling at the streetcar driver if she misses her streetcar, dashing in high heels while carrying a Starbucks pastry of some kind. There's the old lady who doesn't get on the subway because it's too full of people. There's the businessman who won't talk to his female colleagues because he's intimidated by them. And most of these things are things that happened in childhood, or young adulthood, and have become pressure points for us.
Freud called these neuroses: they were things that we couldn't process because they caused us pain, and we can only now go on to start to deal with them. Maybe that old lady had a traumatic experience in a crowd when she was younger. Maybe the businessman was laughed at by a group of girls during high school. We all create mechanisms or warning signs to stop up from having unpleasant experiences.
And herein lies the kicker: We want psychological cues that protect us from events, but we want them to be black and white. There can be no good crowds, no good events of missing the streetcar, no good can come from treating your female colleagues well, etc. We have our frame of reference, and flawed or not, we feel better holding onto it than changing it for the better. Most of the time, this is a fairly harmless way to live.
The problem is when our neuroses stop helping us achieve a normal, pleasurable life, and start taking away from it. The neurotic person that needs treatment simply has more debilitating symptom-formations that prevent enjoyment and active achievement in life.
As an adult, we all have fears. We all have things that we wished hadn't happened to us, and we wish we had done. But the crux of a happy life resides in being able to shape our own bad habits into something useful to us, a weapon against all the bad things that happen to us. Otherwise, those protective elements in our lives stop protecting us, and simply cut us off from the society we should enjoy. To live life well is a life with fewer fears rather than more fears, and a good life is one that is free of those fears that stop us from achieving success in our personal and public lives.
It's funny how the things that you disliked as a child or teenager become things you hate and fear the older you get.
For example, I used to dislike bugs when I was a child, or messes, when I was younger. Now that I'm older, I find that even seeing a messy kitchen or a messy room can stress me out, and bugs in general I scream like a little girl whenever I see them. (Although maybe that wasn't that different than when I was a child.)
Back in the day, I might have had a slightly negative reaction, but the older I get, I find my reactions to negative events in my life to be more and more extreme.
And it's not just me who feels this way. There's the cafe mocha drinking-lady who starts yelling at the streetcar driver if she misses her streetcar, dashing in high heels while carrying a Starbucks pastry of some kind. There's the old lady who doesn't get on the subway because it's too full of people. There's the businessman who won't talk to his female colleagues because he's intimidated by them. And most of these things are things that happened in childhood, or young adulthood, and have become pressure points for us.
Freud called these neuroses: they were things that we couldn't process because they caused us pain, and we can only now go on to start to deal with them. Maybe that old lady had a traumatic experience in a crowd when she was younger. Maybe the businessman was laughed at by a group of girls during high school. We all create mechanisms or warning signs to stop up from having unpleasant experiences.
And herein lies the kicker: We want psychological cues that protect us from events, but we want them to be black and white. There can be no good crowds, no good events of missing the streetcar, no good can come from treating your female colleagues well, etc. We have our frame of reference, and flawed or not, we feel better holding onto it than changing it for the better. Most of the time, this is a fairly harmless way to live.
The problem is when our neuroses stop helping us achieve a normal, pleasurable life, and start taking away from it. The neurotic person that needs treatment simply has more debilitating symptom-formations that prevent enjoyment and active achievement in life.
As an adult, we all have fears. We all have things that we wished hadn't happened to us, and we wish we had done. But the crux of a happy life resides in being able to shape our own bad habits into something useful to us, a weapon against all the bad things that happen to us. Otherwise, those protective elements in our lives stop protecting us, and simply cut us off from the society we should enjoy. To live life well is a life with fewer fears rather than more fears, and a good life is one that is free of those fears that stop us from achieving success in our personal and public lives.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
TOW: Nature
I have been reading Walden lately, and there's one quote that sticks out in my mind, more than any other:
"Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind [...] When a man is warmed by the several modes which I have described, what does he want next? Surely not more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant, and hotter fires, and the like [...] there are some that complain most energetically and inconsolably of any, because they are, as they say, doing their duty. I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden and silver fetters."
Thus, the story of Walden begins, as an adventure into the desire to shed oneself of the fetters of society and mankind that displace us from regular, human activity.
While I won't go into detail into Walden, (for I honestly think Thoreau is a bit of a stuck up hippie) the premise of Walden is something that I think is universal in desire among most serviceable human beings: the desire to communicate with nature in such a way as to better our humanity.
I spent a really nice time up near Mount Forest in Ontario, and had a chance to fish on some very clear waters, muck about in a cave and sit under a waterfall (which has been one of my favourite experiences this year). Alas, I had to return to the big city, to find it unchanged. The people are still unfortunate, the activities here are still fairly benign, and for the most part, I would rather be in a more natural setting.
While I love my friends here, and I love the work opportunities that I have in a city like this, I definitely feel like there is something missing in my life, and I think it is the closeness of nature in my life. As someone who has spent long summers out in the so-called wild, whether in Cold Lake, Alberta, or in Saskatchewan, it makes me realize how much I miss having those natural comforts close to me in my life. Thoreau was right about one thing in regards to being part of the middle class...the heat that you experience from the societal pleasures in life often are the kind of heat that makes life unbearable, not the kind of heat that warms our hearts.
Most of my happiest memories have been in a natural setting, amongst trees, and wildlife, etc. There are still some things in modern society that I enjoy (like the ability to e-mail, or use a map connected to GPS) but more than anything I wonder if my life would be better if I lived somewhere that I didn't have most of these things.
For now, there's not much that I can do except live here. I have a job, I have a life that I've made here, and that's that, as they say. But someday, maybe I'll live somewhere a little more...natural.
"Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind [...] When a man is warmed by the several modes which I have described, what does he want next? Surely not more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant, and hotter fires, and the like [...] there are some that complain most energetically and inconsolably of any, because they are, as they say, doing their duty. I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden and silver fetters."
Thus, the story of Walden begins, as an adventure into the desire to shed oneself of the fetters of society and mankind that displace us from regular, human activity.
While I won't go into detail into Walden, (for I honestly think Thoreau is a bit of a stuck up hippie) the premise of Walden is something that I think is universal in desire among most serviceable human beings: the desire to communicate with nature in such a way as to better our humanity.
I spent a really nice time up near Mount Forest in Ontario, and had a chance to fish on some very clear waters, muck about in a cave and sit under a waterfall (which has been one of my favourite experiences this year). Alas, I had to return to the big city, to find it unchanged. The people are still unfortunate, the activities here are still fairly benign, and for the most part, I would rather be in a more natural setting.
While I love my friends here, and I love the work opportunities that I have in a city like this, I definitely feel like there is something missing in my life, and I think it is the closeness of nature in my life. As someone who has spent long summers out in the so-called wild, whether in Cold Lake, Alberta, or in Saskatchewan, it makes me realize how much I miss having those natural comforts close to me in my life. Thoreau was right about one thing in regards to being part of the middle class...the heat that you experience from the societal pleasures in life often are the kind of heat that makes life unbearable, not the kind of heat that warms our hearts.
Most of my happiest memories have been in a natural setting, amongst trees, and wildlife, etc. There are still some things in modern society that I enjoy (like the ability to e-mail, or use a map connected to GPS) but more than anything I wonder if my life would be better if I lived somewhere that I didn't have most of these things.
For now, there's not much that I can do except live here. I have a job, I have a life that I've made here, and that's that, as they say. But someday, maybe I'll live somewhere a little more...natural.
Monday, July 16, 2012
TOW: Creativity
You know, my new job requires me to be creative at work. And by creative, I mean really creative. I come up with themes to marketing campaigns, I do graphic design, recently I've become somewhat of a no-name Youtube star for the videos I'm creating , and I edit everything, do all the technical side of things, and tell a story with pictures, videos and words. And I do it all several times a week.
What I realize from doing this is that creativity is very much like a muscle. If you over-exert it, you'll strain or even injure you're ability to be creative. This is essentially every hipster-esque art piece that was trying so hard to be something, it went full circle and went back to sucking. Maybe it could have been really 'real' or 'moving' had it not included every artist reference to everything and its non-committal boyfriend. But, like most works of art, it's trying to say too much, trying to be too much, trying to be 'the artist' before the art. Works of art like this are strained. It's not a healthy piece of art. It's just as unpleasant as watching a bodybuilder lift his max weight. It's all grunt-face and quivering muscles that can barely hold up 350 pounds.
But if you don't exercise you're creativity, you'll lose it. You will be sluggish, unaware, unfeeling to the world around you. You become a consumer, instead of a maker. It's good to consume art and culture, but it's important to make things, to be, to live in the moment that is the 'artist's moment.' It's good to exercise your creativity. It keeps you mentally strong, awake, and feeling good about yourself.
I have been working on a couple projects that are taking a lot of my time, and some days I don't have the creativity, the will power, nor the sleep allowance that allows me to create anything of value. Because creativity requires that I have some kind of energy to give, to infuse into my activities, and when I come home tired or drained, there's not a lot to give. The creative spirit requires nearly boundless energy, drawing from that inner well that always replenishes itself as long as you save time for introspection, reflection, and productive creative activity.
Create, do, be. Unless you are satisfied with a creative piece, it doesn't matter what other people think. You have an obligation to yourself to put that energy in you, in things in the world until they make you smile, until they make you happy, and that you can see in the world, things in yourself that you've always wanted to share. Because the world we live in, the world of constant, nearly suffocating connection, demands of us that we share only the best of ourselves. The masters of our world are always the ones that are creating the content in it, the sights, the sounds the smells, the feelings. It's up to us to curate that content, and to reflect something of ourselves onto the world that can make others know us for who we really are. That's creativity.
What I realize from doing this is that creativity is very much like a muscle. If you over-exert it, you'll strain or even injure you're ability to be creative. This is essentially every hipster-esque art piece that was trying so hard to be something, it went full circle and went back to sucking. Maybe it could have been really 'real' or 'moving' had it not included every artist reference to everything and its non-committal boyfriend. But, like most works of art, it's trying to say too much, trying to be too much, trying to be 'the artist' before the art. Works of art like this are strained. It's not a healthy piece of art. It's just as unpleasant as watching a bodybuilder lift his max weight. It's all grunt-face and quivering muscles that can barely hold up 350 pounds.
But if you don't exercise you're creativity, you'll lose it. You will be sluggish, unaware, unfeeling to the world around you. You become a consumer, instead of a maker. It's good to consume art and culture, but it's important to make things, to be, to live in the moment that is the 'artist's moment.' It's good to exercise your creativity. It keeps you mentally strong, awake, and feeling good about yourself.
I have been working on a couple projects that are taking a lot of my time, and some days I don't have the creativity, the will power, nor the sleep allowance that allows me to create anything of value. Because creativity requires that I have some kind of energy to give, to infuse into my activities, and when I come home tired or drained, there's not a lot to give. The creative spirit requires nearly boundless energy, drawing from that inner well that always replenishes itself as long as you save time for introspection, reflection, and productive creative activity.
Create, do, be. Unless you are satisfied with a creative piece, it doesn't matter what other people think. You have an obligation to yourself to put that energy in you, in things in the world until they make you smile, until they make you happy, and that you can see in the world, things in yourself that you've always wanted to share. Because the world we live in, the world of constant, nearly suffocating connection, demands of us that we share only the best of ourselves. The masters of our world are always the ones that are creating the content in it, the sights, the sounds the smells, the feelings. It's up to us to curate that content, and to reflect something of ourselves onto the world that can make others know us for who we really are. That's creativity.
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