Cheaper Than Therapy

Music

2011-05-04T19:37:00.001-07:00

iTunes has this feature that allows you to see playlists created by famous musicians, actors, comedians, athletes etc. These celebrities pick songs that they enjoy or have some sort of sentimental value, and they write a short editorial about the song. Maybe I'm just not all that interested in celebrity culture, but I found myself bored by these lists. I got to thinking that I would much rather see something similar, posted by my friends. So here is a list of songs that I really enjoy. Maybe you'll like them too. Maybe you'll tell me about some of your favourite songs. Some of these songs are attached to people that I care about, or special moments; some of them are just brilliant songs. I don't expect anyone to listen through the whole list, but if there are some songs on there that you don't recognize, and you have a free moment...who knows.

John Mayer – Covered in Rain – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgVjRy-gFB4

Brother Ali – Uncle Sam Goddam –

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OO18F4aKGzQ

Kanye West – Slow Jamz - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrMrqBcv6Mk

Lauryn Hill – Doo Woop (that thing) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE6Qcc6VDo8

Matthew Good – Vancouver National Anthem - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTkroZ8RTqs&feature=related

John Mayer – Out of My Mind - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQkO3SGB3So

Musiq Soulchild – Better Man - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9LrfWBInn8

Ne-Yo – Better today - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5KlGo-N9ag

Rebirth Brass Band – I Feel Like Funkin It Up - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brfHpNMScZk

Ray Lamongtagne – Joelene http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqrJJ6-f1co&feature=fvst

Talib Kweli – Get By - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVtpXvzzXiA

U2 – All I Want Is You (Live From Slane Castle) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAQhrD6ek4k

'Progress'

2011-01-13T21:18:00.000-08:00

I remember the moment I gave up on math. It was grade three, and we were learning long division, and I thought, “What? No. Screw this. I’ll never learn this.” I may have picked a few things up along the way, but from that point on, school was just about getting by. Grade 3 was also the year I broke the school record for most times sent to the principals office in one year…36 times. I used to write swear words on erasers and then throw them at kids I didn’t like. When they picked it up and read it, I would point at them and mouth the word “You!” I was kicked out of school in grade 9 for…well lots of things, but fighting was the straw that broke the camels back. In grade 11 I had a GPA of 0.5 and the only reason I graduated was because my principals pushed me through, as they preferred not to deal with me anymore. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life when I graduated high school, but University or College was out of the question.

One hour ago I wrote the last exam of my undergraduate education. Unofficially, I am the recipient of an honours degree in Political Science. Fancy right? I’m proud to say that I even made the Dean’s List in my fourth year. I’m especially proud, because I have this intense fear of discovering that I am stupid and have for as long as I can remember. Writing a major paper presents a significant psychological challenge for me. It’s not just about whether or not I want to do the necessary work…it’s about mustering up the courage to make myself vulnerable to that terrifying revelation. If I try my best, and fail…that’s it…game over. If I give a subpar effort, at least I can justify it and dismiss the evaluation as unreflective of my abilities. It sounds dramatic, I know, but every time I really put my best effort into a paper, I feel like I’ve made a major breakthrough. So I’m feeling pretty proud of myself right now. I know a B.A. isn’t a major accomplishment for most people, but I feel a bit like a scholastic version of Rudy sometimes.

Political Science is an intimidating discipline. If I really think about it, I know that I have expanded my knowledge base over the last two years. But I am more inclined to think about all of the areas where I lack the desired knowledge. There is so much classical literature, some of which pre-dates dirt. I feel like I’m supposed to be able to recite and critique all of the writings of Plato, Aristotle, Thucydides, Hobbes, Rawls, Foucault, and on and on it goes…rest assured, I can’t. Am I supposed to have NAFTA memorized, or be able to recite the constitution? Am I supposed to be able to speak confidently about macroeconomics? Then there is political ideology, history, comparative politics and gender politics. It just never ends. And that’s one of the reasons I love it…but it is incredibly daunting.

You’ve probably heard it before, but now I can officially testify to its validity: University isn’t really about how much knowledge you acquire over the semesters. Some of the stuff really sticks, but most of the names and dates that I’ve used in essays and tests, I’ve since forgotten. I think it’s about developing more general tools, like critical thinking, coherent writing, time management, stress management and caffeine management. I love political science because it makes me feel connected to the world. But you can graduate with a degree in political science and still fall short of that ideal. Education is a constant process and it requires a personal dedication that is independent of formal institutions. From that perspective, today doesn’t really represent a definitive ‘finish line’.

I’m also reminded that the process isn’t over, because I’m no more qualified to do anything with my life than I was without my degree. What I have now is the ability to enroll in more school, and probably acquire more debt…and I’m a little excited about that.

I know it sounds like an afterschool special, but this process has taught me most about myself. At the beginning of every semester, when I walk into the classroom for the first time, I feel like a fraud, waiting to be exposed. That feeling is still there, but it’s less prominent, and it has to compete with the part of me that is starting to feel like I might actually be capable of more than I once thought.

I’ve also realized that I have a tendency to desire extreme and sudden changes in my life. I feel dissatisfied with a particular area and I want to reverse it immediately. I feel frustrated when these constant resolutions result in inevitable failure. But today I’m encouraged, because I am confronted with the real change that I’ve undergone over the last few years. I don’t think any of my quick fix resolutions produced the desired result, but while I wasn’t looking…while I was preoccupied with ineffective quick fix resolutions, I’ve somehow become somebody I can be proud of. Still, infested with inadequacies and character flaws; still light years from the person I wish I was and still making constant quick fix resolutions that are doomed to fail, but…I don’t know…progress…progress is encouraging.

'The Bystander Effect'

2010-11-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

There is this show on ABC called, “What Would You Do?” I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s basically a show about what is called ‘the bystander effect,’ which Wikipedia defines as (yes I’m referencing Wikipedia) “a social psychological phenomenon that refers to cases where individuals do not offer help in an emergency situation when other people are present.” I know the show is about this because it’s clear from the commercials… I have never and I will never watch this show. It’s not that it’s shallow or uninteresting. I’m just desperately afraid of it. It reminds me of a part of humanity that I really don’t want to acknowledge.

You probably read what happened in Vancouver not too long ago. A sixteen year-old girl was gang raped by 5-7 guys at a rave and the other people at the rave stood by and actually video taped it and put it on YouTube. Since then, the police have had a difficult time with their investigation because only two people have come forward to cooperate.

There are many stories like this, and honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. I doubt everyone at that rave was exceptionally evil. But at the same time, I can’t imagine anyone with a shred of decency in them remaining silent in that situation. In political science, we talk a lot about ‘human nature.’ Is there such a thing? If there is, what is it? Are people naturally good? Are we inherently selfish? Are we born a clean slate and shaped by our experiences? The answers to these questions play a massive role in shaping our laws and political economy, but I think the same is true on a more personal level. I think how I answer these questions plays a massive role in my day-to-day life. Am I trustful or suspicious? Vulnerable? Optimistic? Cynical? A lot of the time the answer can be traced back to a broader ideology.

I’m afraid of living in a society where strangers don’t help each other when they are clearly in need. I’m afraid of becoming a person who doesn’t act unless my immediate interests are involved. And I don’t think that necessarily makes my nature ‘good.’ It could very well be that it is self-interest that causes my fear. What if it was someone I loved at that rave? What if it was my sister? Daughter? What if I’m in a situation where I desperately need the help of a stranger? I can’t watch a TV show that reminds me that I live in a society as fragmented as this.

I’ve mentioned before that I have no idea what I’m going to end up doing with my life. That’s still true. But it is going to involve contributing to a society that helps strangers in need. I don’t know if that’s because there is something good in me, or because I’m fundamentally driven by self-interest…probably both.

"Impetus Questions"

2010-10-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

It was grade 10…or whichever grade you read ‘Of Mice and Men,’ or in my case rent the movie. We were talking about ‘writers block’ and my teacher suggested that we just start writing…let the creative process unravel on its own. You’re not even supposed to let the pen come off the paper…doodle if you have to, but don’t stop. I don’t have writers block. I’m not a writer. I have a suspicion that I might have what I have termed ‘thinkers block’. Am I a thinker? Not sure. Maybe that’s an answer in itself, although I’m not sure which. What’s thinkers block you ask? I don’t fully know that either, but I’m pretty sure that’s one of the symptoms. So I’m writing…maybe the exercise will be therapeutic for thinkers block as well (hence the name of the blog). Therapeutic or not, it’s guaranteed to lack structure or resolve.

I want to start with this… I don’t read blogs. I say this because I can’t imagine anyone else reading them either. I make it available for other people to read, because if I didn’t, it would be a journal and then I would spend the entire time convincing myself that it wasn’t a diary. So…it’s a blog. The idea that anyone has ever read any of this is beyond comprehension to me. And this is an attitude that I think applies to more than just my blog. I really don’t operate under the assumption that my words and actions carry any consequences. Maybe I’m self-centered or maybe I just lack perspective at times, but it’s wrong. My words and my actions do matter, a lot. Not because they’re mine and I’m some oratorical genius, I’m not. They just matter. We do things and we say things, and we can’t take them back…

So, if on my blog or elsewhere, I’ve come across an abrasive, egotistical zealot, preaching from a soapbox, I’m sorry. I think it’s harmful to be a proponent of something without first thoroughly examining yourself and the issue. I think it often takes even more time and effort to oppose something, and to do that without adequate reflection is perhaps more grievous. People who make a habit of this frustrate and scare me, and I’ve found myself among them far too often.

At one point in my life I actually wanted to be a preacher (scary, I know). The idea of having an audience every weekend was appealing. I love the idea of a weekly forum where people are open to being shaped…I still love that idea. There are things I care about and maybe they could care about them too? But that wasn’t the real prize. There were so many questions I lacked answers for. Big questions…. ‘Impetus questions,’ the ones that somehow seem to dictate day-to-day life, whether or not we’re aware of it. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to know.

I’ve since abandoned my plans to be a preacher, but I haven’t stopped pursuing those questions. Some things I firmly believe in, but most of the time I don’t want to talk about the things that I’m sure of. If I’m truly confident about something, then I’ve probably already moved on. I talk because I don’t know. Maybe if I talk, then you’ll respond and I’ll listen, and if we do that for long enough, something is bound to spark. At times this strategy has worked well, personifying honesty and humility… Other times, perhaps more frequently, it’s been more like I’m lecturing or even mocking from the finish line. Obviously this kind of cynicism and hypocrisy is detrimental to my cause. There are numerous reasons for this inconsistency, some of which I have knowledge of, none of which are justifiable.

Here is the truth… I’m twenty-five years old and I’ve no concrete idea what I want to do with my life. Maybe that’s more acceptable in 2010 than ever before, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. It’s terrifying to think of where I’d be if I didn’t have the most supportive, patient and forgiving parents in the world (Mom. Dad. Thank you. It’s almost over).

I don’t know if I should consider this progress or more of the same…it’s not concrete but it’s all I have: I am rededicating myself to the pursuit of knowledge and humility, never one more than the other. This isn’t to say I won’t go on to make the same mistakes. I will. But what do they say? “It’s the journey that matters, not the destination”? I hope so.

This Thing Still On?

2010-07-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

HOLY SMOKES, THIS THING IS STILL ACTIVE? Alright, well, here we go. Warning: this will be long. A little while ago, a journalist from Castanet wrote a piece that many took exception to. The following is that piece and my response to it. Again, cookies are promised to all those who finish.

Soccer, South Africa suck

by Contributed - Story: 55356
Jun 27, 2010 / 5:00 am

I watched part of a World Cup game last weekend to see if soccer is still the most boring sport in the world.
It is.
Fearing the worst, I put $10 on the Ivory Coast against Brazil. The Ivory Coast was at 6-1 odds so I figured the possibility of winning $60 would keep me awake.
I drifted off after Brazil sealed the game with a 1-0 lead.
Some call soccer the Beautiful Game. More like Sleeping Beauty.
Soccer is the only game that doesn’t need a scoreboard. Even the second and third most boring spectator sports in the world – curling and darts – need scoreboards. Soccer is essentially a game of overwhelming failure to do what players are supposed to do - score.
The reason so many kids play soccer is that it requires no skill to perform the basics. Even the clumsiest kid can run around a field without doing anything else except occasionally tripping over the ball.
The famed Welsh soccer player Phil Woosnam once said: “The rules of soccer are very simple: if it moves, kick it. If it doesn’t move, kick it until it does.”
The French are upset about their national team being eliminated. That’s understandable. Soccer is a game for pansies so the French had every right to expect success from their team.
The highest level of skill in soccer is acting. The best players have a knack for rolling on the ground and whimpering in pain as they exaggerate an injury.
Hockey players aren’t noted for intellect, but they are smarter than soccer players.
For instance: Hockey goalies, or baseball batters, will try to avoid a projectile screaming toward their heads. Soccer players deliberately try to get hit in the head with the ball. People are supposed to use their heads for thinking, or pounding them on a table when told they are sentenced to watch a soccer game.
The PE teacher in my school would always make us play soccer. Every kid would groan. The teachers loved it because there was almost nothing to teach.
“Go out there, run around and kick the ball,” the teacher would instruct. Then he’d settle back to read a magazine article about real football in the NFL or CFL.
There is a intriguing explanation for why soccer never caught on in North America.
Stephen Schindler of the Washington University offers the explanation:
“When soccer first became popular around 1910, it was considered a working-class sport because it didn't require much equipment aside from a ball. In the mind of many Americans, this became synonymous with labour unions and even socialists, which made it socially-unacceptable.”
Parents, you better think about that the next time you let your kids play this communist-based sport.
Speaking of politics, the South African slogan for the Cup is a big lie: “Celebrate African Humanity.”
As with China during the 2008 Olympics, the South African government is presenting a sanitized image.
South Africa is still a country of racial extremism and poverty, only this time the “secret genocide” is directed at whites.
South Africa’s gold production is dropping by double digits annually.
That’s because of Black Economic Empowerment - a race-based policy that requires companies to turn over 40 percent ownership and management to black persons or black empowerment unions, regardless of qualifications.
Foreign investors won’t commit their money to a regime that could wipe out their investments at the whim of a racist notion.
Consider these numbers: There are 43,000 murders a year in South Africa. That makes the Mexican drug cartels look like they are playing paintball. There have been 3,000 white farmers murdered since the end of apartheid. One-quarter of women in South Africa will be raped at least once. Several countries deserve a World Cup boycott. South Africa is one of them.

My email to Chuck:

Chuck,

I'm sorry that you're been on the receiving end of so much hatred in response to your article. That can't feel good, no matter how thick your skin is. I think that writing opinion pieces that deal with serious issues of concern is an act of vulnerability, and as a young, politically active student, who hopes to voice his opinion in public forums one day, I fear being met with rejection much like the kind that you seem to have encountered.

Like many others, I had a few problems with the article you wrote and I too wanted to voice them, but I wanted to do it in a respectful way, because to be honest I want to be heard and I know that if I come off as angry and bitter, you would not be open to any dialogue and understandably so. Nonetheless, if my tone appears to remain angry and bitter, I apologize in advance.

I believe that you're right about many things, both with regards to soccer and South Africa. It's your right to believe that soccer is a boring game. That opinion isn't entirely uncommon for North American sports fans. However, lets be honest about the sports you praise, shall we?

The CFL is an example of "real football"? I love the BC lions as much as the next guy, but the CFL has 8 teams! and when we had nine, two of them were named the Roughriders! Just how bad do you have to be to not make the playoffs in this league? Games are often won via the kicker, punting the ball through the back of the endzone!

Hockey players are smarter? Their fans more civilized? Recently a study came out of Alberta that proved (unsurprisingly) that children playing hockey in a league which allows body checking are far more likely to suffer from concussions and their long term effects. More surprisingly, the children's parents and coaches were generally unmoved by this evidence. We would rather subject our children to the risks of brain damage than remove body checking from our game. Have you ever attempted to remind a hockey parent who is in the middle of heckling a 15 year old referee, that his nine year old is participating in a 'game'? Hockey is an entertaining sport, but our passion for it isn't reasonable, it's an insanity that our society is unapologetic for.

The sport is communist? I don't know if this was meant in satire or not, so if my objection is oversensitive, I apologize, but what you refer to as the sport's "communist roots" are more likely its extreme accessibility to even the most impoverished and destitute. Hockey requires thousands of dollars in equipment and travel, whereas soccer provides entertainment for even the most poverty stricken, often requiring only a ball of debris that has been bound together by tape or melted wax, and two miscellaneous objects to serve as temporary goalposts.

That being said, I don't care about your opinion of the sport, and I would defend your right to not only hate it, but to express your hatred for it in the most public of forums. What disturbed me more than anything, was your handling of racial tensions in South Africa. Your statistics are more than likely accurate. White farmers have been murdered in scary numbers since the end of Apartheid. Police say that 861 white farmers have been killed since 2001. However, the context in which you presented them was, in my opinion, flippant and irresponsible. One minute I was reading about a man's comical distaste for a game and then there was a sudden transition - "Speaking of politics", and you began to quote xenophobic statistics with little context or explanation.

South Africa is ridden with problems, and the ones you chose to report are among them. I don't think you're unintelligent. I think your writing is facetious, but I think it is intentional. You say that 43,000 people are murdered in SA each year, my research say that it's closer to 18-23 thousand. Concerning nonetheless. Of those who died between 1997-2001 of an unnatural, unspecified death, 90.31 percent of them were non-white (which exceeds their proportion of the total population). You could have included that. You could have alluded to the fact that South Africa has been defined by racial and political exclusion since emerging as a self-governing union under the British Crown in 1910. The Land Act of 1913 prevented Africans from acquiring land outside of native reserves. The Mines and Works Amendment Act of 1926, also known as the “Colour Bar” Act, prohibited Africans from skilled work in the mines. This was extended to skilled construction trades under the Native Building Workers’ Act in 1951. All Africans were required to carry a passbook indicating where they work and live. Public transportation was segregated, protests were prohibited, most universities were exclusively white, and an officer could hold anyone considered suspicious for a renewable ninety-day period without trial. You could have mentioned that whites still occupy 75 percent of top management posts, or that while the official unemployment rate is 25.5 percent within the economically active population, it is only 7 percent within the white population. Today, while the black majority continue to struggle for economic and political equality, the ANC has seemingly lost its touch with its constituency, so much so that many poverty stricken blacks wonder if they weren't better off under the tyranny of apartheid (an unimaginable yet profound sentiment).

You're right, there are many reasons to boycott the World Cup. How about the fact that $137 million was spent on a stadium which hosted 4 games in Nelspruit, one of SA's poorest regions, where locals still fetch water from dirty pudddles? How about the fact that schools were bulldozed and children transferred in order to make room for this stadium, which no longer has any practical use?

I feel as though you left your readers with misleading statistics that could lead to harmful conclusions. Many of them do not have the education that you have, and I think it's possible that you took that for granted. Journalists have a responsibility to contribute to the public discourse in a positive way, that is both balanced and critical. I realize that this is not always an easy thing to do, especially while attempting to remain entertaining. On this occasion, I think you fell short. For this reason, I have signed a petition that aims to have Castanet post an apology for the article. Not because I think you ought to be crucified for a silly article, but because, respectfully, I hope to see Castanet hold itself to a higher standard in the future. I'm sorry if you find that offensive, or if my email is just another in a barrage of oversensitive, condescending criticisms, but I hope you'll consider my words with more humility than I might, if I were in your position.

Regards,
Mark Sawatzky

Thanks for reading people. You're troopers. I'd love to hear your thoughts. and the petition site is still running if you wish to sign it. And i'll be posting something else within the week that is related to this subject

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/petition/518/623/690

How Would Jesus Vote?

2010-03-30T04:12:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you've heard of this woman - Ann Coulter. To be honest, I didn't know much about her until recently. But apparently she's becoming famous for being an extreme, right wing, political pundit who spews ignorance like she's getting paid by the word. She has all of the staple conservative beliefs - christian nation, no abortions, small government, traditional definition of marriage, etc. But every once in a while she comes out with a real doozy. Something like, "If we could only get Muslims to boycott all airports, we could dispense with airport security altogether."

So I know this guy, and he is very proud of his conservative political ideology. To be honest, I don't really think he knows what that means. I think he probably inherited these values from his parents or his church and maybe now he likes cheering for the winning team, but that's probably just me being arrogant and pretentious. I think, like many, he has equated conservatism with god, whereas liberalism equals...i don't know...Sodom or something. Well, upon learning a little bit about Ann Coulter he wasn't really sure what to think. He clearly didn't agree with Coulter's more radical and blatantly racist positions, but her pro-life stance and 'left-hating' was something that he could identify with. So he was torn - how is it that someone so clearly crazy...at least at times, could be so profound and sensible at other times? Now one might think this would be an appropriate time to consider, "hmm...maybe if this NUTBAG agrees with so many of my positions, I should start to question those positions." Now let me be clear, I'm not trying to say that because Coulter is crazy and because she is a conservative, that all conservative positions are therefore crazy. I'm not trying to equate pro-life advocates with racists. But what is the point of democracy if exercising our democratic right means finding someone who believes what you believe. There is no dialogue, no consensus building, just petty binary quarrels that perpetuate a never ending cycle of political stagnancy.

For example, there is a bill that is about to go to the House of Commons called Bill-C300. The bill, if passed, would essentially require Canadian companies that operate in Africa and South America, extracting oil and minerals, to comply to higher standards of operations. You see, Canada has this reputation for being a responsible global citizen, but most Canadians don't realize how quickly that reputation is being tarnished. These big companies in their quest for profit, have taken advantage of vulnerable states that are less privileged than us, and committed countless human rights abuses and blatant environmental violations.

I wrote our MP, Ron Cannon, and asked him why he and the rest of the Conservative party was voting against this bill. He explained to me that the bill would hurt our companies ability to do business abroad and it would subject them to punitive law suits. He also pointed me towards the conservative counter proposal, so I read that. But the counter proposal is essentially a toothless set of provisions that are all VOLUNTARY! Ron Cannon explained that these companies will adopt these provisions in order to obtain a competitive advantage, because foreign states are more likely to work with corporations that have a reputation for corporate responsibility........

So some alarms went off in my head. First of all, companies that commit atrocious human rights violations and destroy ecosystems in order to maximize profit, just because they know they can get away with it in Guatemala or Nigeria, should be subject to punitive law suits. Secondly, we are to assume that these corporations, which require our governments protection from law suits, are now going to adopt optional provisions that will hurt their bottom line? It feels kind of like releasing a guilty criminal, because now that he understands that there are no consequences for his crimes, he will change on his own.

Well, I think i've cracked the code. The Conservative position isn't stupid, perhaps disingenuous, but not stupid. I think they know that these corporations aren't going to change voluntarily. But when election day comes around, they know that people are going to vote primarily with their wallets. So affording basic human decencies to indigenous populations in the global south is definitely on the agenda...just not in the middle of a recession, okay?

The part that really bugs me, is that in Kelowna and across the country, the Conservative voting base is largely Christian. Yet when you do a little bit of research, you see that voting against Bill C-300 is a clear case of choosing profit over people. To be perfectly honest, I don't really identify myself as being a 'Christian' - I don't go to church, I don't oppose gay marriage, I support a woman's right to choose and I'll probably end up living with a girl who isn't my wife. Sounds like I'm destined for hellfire. But the thing that is most disillusioning for me, is that our faith-based voting is intimately connected to the suffering of those inside and outside our country. Why is religious voting more likely to support a war that disproportionately harms innocent civilians? Why is religious voting more likely to benefit big business while telling a struggling homeless man to pick himself up by his bootstraps? I'll be honest, I'm trying to be open minded and humble...but i have a hard time accepting this. I expect our politicians to tell us what we want to hear in order to gain our votes, but why don't the religious among us want to hear more about helping the poor and the sick, the victimized and the marginalized?

I have beliefs and most of the time I think I'm right, and I want you to think I'm right too. But if we're not making intentional efforts to open our minds and learn the nuances of alternate perspectives, that's when we get old and irrelevant...and it can happen at 20. This was particularly incoherent, even by my standards, I apologize. If you made it to the end, you deserve an oatmeal raisin cookie from Subway.

The Game is Rigged

2010-03-18T05:59:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid I used to kill insects. Not in a sadistic, this kid needs to be heavily medicated way but more just like every other 10-year-old boy that I know of. When I was camping, I found this massive red anthill, and only 15 feet away, there was a big black ant colony, and my dad told me that if they were closer together they would fight. What was I supposed to do? I had no choice but to grab the shovel and a front seat.

And at my grandma’s house, there were tons slugs outside on the patio. My dad told me that if I put salt on them, they would shrivel up and die. Again… front seat. The only reason I stopped doing these things, was because I figured out that girls didn’t like it, and as much fun as it was to manufacture your own ant war, or torture a slug, girls just smelt nice and they thought bugs had feelings… so I went along with it.

I remember thinking when this was happening – “Man, I sure am glad that I was born a human, and not a slug… slug life sucks… you just slug it up until someone comes along and ends your life with a salty death.”

Then I got a little older, and I wasn’t killing slugs anymore, but I started learning what life was like in other places in the world. I saw the world vision commercials and learned about kids who couldn’t assume that another meal was coming, or that there would be a warm bed to sleep in that night, and I thought – “Man I’m sure lucky to live in Canada.”

Nowadays I study political science, which has been defined a million ways, but my favourite definition is a simple one – it is the study of power. Last semester I took a class called ‘Gender and International Relations’ and I learned a lot about the different challenges that disproportionately face women around the globe, ones I will most likely never have to worry about. Things like sex slavery, forced servitude, spousal abuse, FGM… the list goes on. There were clear structural advantages to being a male in a patriarchal world.

I’m a young, white, male, living in the relative affluence of western Canada – If we’re being honest, I have all of societies structural advantages.

We talk about poverty a lot in my classes. The other day, a professor who I have profound respect for, said something I will never forget. He said, “I prefer to call it inequity instead of poverty. Poverty alludes to the fact that other people are poor, inequity implies that there is a connection between the rich and the poor.”

Call it socialism if you like, but 20% of the world consumes 80% of the resources. I don’t want to be the beneficiary of a pigmentocracy; I don’t want women to be owned like property by pimps, fathers or husbands anywhere, or in any capacity; I don’t want to live in a world with slavery anymore, even if I get to be the slave owner.

I’m a few months away from graduating and possibly moving on to grad school, and you know what I’ve realized? They’re not going to teach us the answers to these questions. The game is rigged from the start and most of us don’t really pay much attention to it, because we have no incentive to change the rules. But this doesn’t feel like victory anymore. This doesn’t feel like an accomplishment.

I know this rant probably doesn’t make any sense to someone who hasn’t been stuck in poli-sci classes for the last 4 years, and even to them, it’s 5am and that probably makes no sense. But try looking at your world like an integrated system. Why does a man ‘give away’ his daughter on her wedding day, as though she were property? Why does she take his name? Why does the name inside the back of your t-shirt always say Thailand, China, Mexico, etc. Why are the people we’re always going to war with brown? Why do civilians make up 50% of casualties in war? Why is Wal-Mart so cheap?

I’m ranting… I’m sorry… I guess I’m just saying that I don’t know how to live yet. My advantages are connected to someone else’s disadvantages… they didn’t fall from heaven. I’m not really sure where to go from there…

She's Not Ruined

2010-02-16T05:36:00.001-08:00

The reason my parents can afford to have a 190lb leech living in their house (me), is that they are both successful business owners, and they work very hard. My dad is a marriage counselor, and my mom runs a daycare out of our house. Now, 90 percent of the time, that’s a pretty cool thing. Kids are great. They’re funny and energetic. While they’re at my house we get to watch them learn how to walk, how to talk, how to blow snot bubbles - the whole shebang. After a tough day, there is no better cure than to walk upstairs, grab the first rug rat you can find and toss him/her in the air, and watch as their face transforms from initial uncertainty and terror, into pure joy and uncontrolled laughter. Of course, you have to catch the kid on the way down…

Anyways, there is one little girl in particular that has been coming to my mom’s daycare for a while now, lets call her Sara. She is three-years-old, and she hasn’t had the easiest start to life. Her mom is a drug addict, and she has four kids now, with four different guys. All of her other kids are in the custody of social services, but Sara lived with her dad. He was always a little scattered. He was a bit unkempt, and he jumped from job to job. Sara’s verbal skills weren’t really progressing because he never really talked to her at home, and she was very shy and easily spooked. While all the other kids were playing with each other, Sara would follow my mom from room to room, and when someone she didn’t recognize would come into the room, she would hide behind my mom’s leg until the person left. I didn’t really think too much of it at the time…she was just a fragile child.

Then one day, her dad dropped her off at daycare, and slid a letter into Sara’s cubby. Sara’s dad didn’t pick her up from daycare that day. He left for Toronto, because he had family out there, and he wanted to start over. He didn’t feel qualified to raise Sara anymore, and he thought that she was better off without him. Sara had barely met her mom, and now her dad had left her.

Well, my mom called social services, and Sara was placed in a foster home. She kept coming to daycare, even though the foster mom didn’t need the service, because everyone agreed that it would be good for Sara to have some stability in her life. Within a week or two of living in this foster home, she was a different girl. She was talking more than ever; she was smiling, and playing with the other kids. It was amazing. But then her dad came back. He couldn’t live with himself, and he decided that he wanted her back. He didn’t get her back, but he did get regular visits.

Three-year-olds aren’t stupid. Sara would go to one of these visits, and wait in the car seat for her dad to show up. Her head would follow every car and every pedestrian that might be her father, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to just not show up, without so much as a phone call. Sara understands abandonment, and the next few days at daycare always reflected that understanding.

Well, one day Sara came to daycare following a visit that her dad actually showed up for, and my mom asked, “did you have McDonalds with your dad yesterday?” and she answered “yup, and I touched his penis.” My mom’s jaw dropped, and she asked Sara to repeat what she had just said. Well, social services were informed, and the RCMP began an investigation. Apparently this kind of thing had been going on for a while.

Sara’s cot for naptime is in the corner of the living room, and she rarely sleeps. So normally, I come upstairs for a snack, and she is sitting there, so I wave to her with a big smile on my face. Depending on her mood that day, she either ignores me completely, or she smiles and waves back. Lately, I’ve been having a harder time going upstairs when Sara is here. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, and I know that I couldn’t have known that she was going through this, but still I feel this intense shame on behalf of my gender. I figure that when she looks at any man, she must have some associations with her father. She must think about the abandonment, the hurt, and the fear. The person she was supposed to be able to trust most, abandoned her. The person that was supposed to protect her from danger, hurt her in the most perverse way. She must already hate men, all men.

Well, I went upstairs, and there she was. So I smiled, and I waved, despite my shame. And to my surprise, she smiled, and she waved back. You know what I realized? She’s not broken. She’s not wrecked. She’s not a lost cause… Don’t get be wrong, I know that this trauma will likely be with her for a very long time, and I’m not under the impression that she has escaped unscathed by any means. I’m also aware that I don’t understand anything about Sara’s life, and the consequences of her father’s decisions. My point is this…people can recover. Sara’s still a beautiful little girl with a laugh that honestly melts away everything else within an earshot. Her life will likely continue to be hard, but it’s not determined. She’s not dirty… She’s not ruined. I don’t know what it is that makes people beautiful, but she still has it, in abundance.

Clean Closets, Clean Slates.

2010-02-06T05:06:00.000-08:00

A couple years ago I took this sociology class that was so dull, you actually wanted to find something rusty and stab yourself in the eye, just to see if you were still alive. It was a three-hour lecture that always seemed to take place in the prime hours of the most beautiful afternoons. My attention span isn’t cut out for that kind of environment at all. For example, on more than one occasion, I’ve actually caught myself rummaging through the fridge, completely forgetting that there is a ready-to-eat meal in the microwave, that I put in there, only 4 minutes ago.

So I’m sitting in class, but only physically. Mentally I checked out around the same time my professor said, “Sometimes poor people commit crimes out of desperation” or, “Not all murders are thought out, sometimes people kill in a moment of passion.” Really?!?! Brilliant stuff. Somebody stop the presses.

Anyways…I’m passing the time by playing a pirated version of monopoly on my laptop, and I’m controlling three of the four players, because if I land on the computer’s hotel-stacked Park Place property one more time, I just know I’ll throw my laptop across the room in a fit of rage.

I’m in the middle of transferring the money and property from the ‘Hat’ and the ‘Shoe’ to the ‘Racecar’ in order to make one superpower that is capable of squashing the computer controlled ‘Thimble’ with one swift and decisive blow, when my professor does the inconceivable, and actually penetrates my consciousness with something that I still remember today. She said that there is a tendency for college students to have abnormally organized closets during exam seasons, because we get so overwhelmed that we ignore our priorities, and we find something more manageable, like a dirty closet.

So now I feel completely justified in my policy of nonintervention towards the cesspool that is my closet. I tell myself that it’s because I’m above these subconscious coping mechanisms, but in reality, writing a twenty-page research paper contrasting the post fascist transitions in Italy and Germany, is probably still more manageable than conquering that closet. I swear I’m going to open the door one day, and there will be a completely self-sufficient civilization of some foreign species living in there.

But I’ve often thought about what my professor said that day, and wondered how that pattern might manifest itself in my day-to-day life. When I can’t sleep, I think about all the areas of my life that need adjusting, the areas that need improving and the areas that have just been neglected for far too long. After a thorough session of self-defamation, I eventually fall asleep with a renewed sense of optimism, because tomorrow is a clean slate and there is no reason why it can’t be different. But old habits are hard to break and healthy patterns are even harder to establish. The ‘clean state’ was so encouraging when it was tomorrow, but now it’s today and predictably, it feels a lot like yesterday.

All too often, my day is spent ‘closet-cleaning’. Instead of focusing on my priorities or developing some sense of integrity and character, I respond to this fear of inadequacy by finding something a little more manageable. Sometimes it’s an innocent distraction, other times it’s shameful and misguided, but temporarily effective.

There’s no need to go into specifics. Not because they would be an abhorrent admission, not up to the moral standards of the Internet. There are no hidden bodies, I assure you. If you’ve ever felt that way, then you probably already know what I mean, and if you haven’t, then you’ve probably already diagnosed me with something I wouldn’t be able to spell.

I have to escape my own expectations. I know I’ll never meet them, and I know that as long as the bar is as high as it is, I’ll never get off the ground. I can’t wait for the day when the thought of being consumed by ‘dirty closets’ is more terrifying than failing at the things that actually matter. I don’t know when that day will come, or what has to happen before I get there… You know what? Maybe it’ll be tomorrow. Tomorrow is a clean slate and there is no reason it can’t be different…Well…I feel better. Time for bed.

Thanks for reading,

Good night

"Chapter One's"

2010-02-02T06:55:00.000-08:00

I have thoughts. Often they lack substance. Often they should not be said aloud, or written down and shared with the world, and yet too often they are. Often I lay in bed at night, wondering when it is that i'll get to sleep. You might be familiar with the the routine:

"maybe the other side of this pillow will help, it's cooler"

"maybe an episode or two of Seinfeld will distract me from this neurosis long enough for me to fall asleep"

"what time is it now? 3:45 am? How am I going to survive tomorrow with no sleep?"

Or how about this one "If I get to sleep now, I'll still get 6 hours, which is fine........5 hours is manageable..... okay.....I need at LEAST 4 hours....."

Maybe that sounds all too familiar, maybe you're reading this and thinking, "no... it's just you. You need help." Well... who would share their most intimate and disturbing inadequacies with a trained professional, when they could put it on the internet for the whole world to dissect and ridicule?

Of course that's absurd. The truth is, awhile back, I tried something new. I broke out my laptop, opened up a blank Word document and began writing a novel. I would love to tell you that it culminated into a life-altering piece of literature, with which I am now prepared to bless masses, but I have neither the dedication nor the adequate tools for something of that magnitude. Each night, I would begin 'Chapter One' of my new book, with absolutely no intention of moving on to 'Chapter Two'. I saved them in a folder, creatively titled: "Chapter One's." Each 'Chapter One' would introduce somewhere between 1-4 new characters, and each character embodied certain attributes that I didn't quite understand: An unnatural ability to truly forgive, an inexplicable capacity to recover, a profound drive to remain vulnerable, an overpowering tendency to self-destruct, etc. Sometimes these attributes were my own personal struggles, and sometimes they were things I found captivating about others. It was peculiarly therapeutic in the most unsatisfying way.

So, today is February 2nd, 2010, and it's 7:09 am. I didn't sleep last night. I know what you're thinking, "whatever you're doing, it isn't working!" Maybe I'm pessimistic, maybe I've given up, but I really have no desire to be 'cured', and I'm tired of endlessly pursuing this notion of 'arrival'...because I realized something tonight (sleepless nights, as we all know, always result in newfound clarity). I realized, that if I ever 'arrived'...I would have no clue I was 'there' until somebody told me. Maybe that is too abstract, but think about it. What do we chase? It's not relationships, money, gadgets, cars, clothes, degrees, promotions, home renovations, or postcard vacations...We chase purpose and truth. That Rick Warren book...'The Purpose Driven Life'...I read that, and truthfully, I thought it was awful. I'm happy for anyone who found any direction in those pages, but I certainly didn't. Somehow though, it sold something like 30 million copies! I refuse to believe that this was because Warren had anything compelling or original to say. I don't even think he believes that. I think we're just incredibly aware of our failure to find something meaningful. Every day we open new doors and turn over different stones, with an almost hopeless romanticism, that this time it will be different. We find new friends, new lovers, we get married, have kids, change jobs, move cities, quit our jobs... drink... purchase... fight... eat... sleep... laugh... cry... and make new years resolutions. We travel to less affluent countries and realize how little we have to complain about, so we vow to live a simpler life, free of the unnecessary baggage (both material and emotional), and it works, until the next social crisis, or latest iPod release... whichever comes first. But anybody who has thought about any of this for longer than a few moments has likely concluded that there are no silver bullets. There is a root to this discontent. I know this might not be you. Maybe you're in a stage of joy... I've had those (AKA a period of temporary bliss followed by perpetual cynicism). Maybe you are genuinely content, and to you, I say: congratulations...I'll try my best not to resent your existence (kidding).

So, this is the part where I tell you who I am, why I'm doing this, and if there will be any discernible rhyme or reason to my weekly rants. I know this should have gone first, but it didn't. Keep your boxes! ;)

My name is Mark. I'm a university student who is about to graduate with my BA in Political Science (assuming I survive my last semester). Politics fascinates me, because it's not about nations, or parties, it's about people. There might be weeks where I rant about Child-Trafficking, 'The War on Drugs', Third World Poverty, etc. But mainly, this blog will be yet another tool in my obsessive quest to understand something real. For all I know, that's as unoriginal as blogs come. And I'm operating under the assumption that nobody will actually follow it. But if you do, you can expect from time to time, to think of me as: cynical, self-absorbed, hypocritical, conceited, naive, senseless, disillusioned, obsessive, lost, neurotic and hopeless, to name a few. And you'll be right. I think I have a few good qualities too, but i'll leave that to you.

In the future, I will try to be shorter. I'll also try my best to be less cynical (cut the insomniac some slack, will ya?). I do have hope. I know there was no indication of that in what I just shared with you, but people are beautiful, and that's something... it might be everything. If you read this far, I am more thankful than I care to admit. If you continue to read along, I encourage you to dialogue with me. I've never learned anything worth knowing on my own.

Here's to a new phase in a journey undefined,

Mark