Screaming

My mind is screaming at me. "No, no, no! Start your essay! Don't procrastinate. Send an e-mail to your contact who can help you write it! You know he has a degree in Linguistics, and that he's multilingual, and that he's more than happy to help you write a good essay."

My mind keeps screaming. To quiet the terror of an essay due in only a few days, I decide to write. Better to write than mindlessly consume media on Reddit. I was about to do that, but then I realized that I get terribly lost living vicariously through other people's ideas.

The terror subsides. As long as my fingers move, the despair can't catch up to me. It clutches at me every moment I pause and think about how little time is left in this semester. So I keep writing, hoping that the calm ocean of solitude that my words create keep the monster at bay.

I know I can't swim in this ocean forever, else I get lost and sink, but at least the feeling of being protected allows me to think more rationally.

Okay. A deep breath. I know I can write. I know I have the capacity to string sentences together, and paragraphs, and sections, and I know my capacity to create arguments is there somewhere. But five to eight pag- NO. Stop.

I have found valour's blade once more. Not unlike when Harry Potter summons Gryffindor's sword from the sorting hat and slays the serpent, so too shall I slay this monster of an essay.

"You had so much ti-" SLICE.
"You're wasting tim-" SLASH.
"You're probably going to get a bad ma-" STAB.

The pen is as mighty as the sword.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Coco

Yesterday evening, I was walking to campus after having bought a new djembe at a local African drums & crafts store. As this store was located near the Kensington Market, I had decided I would walk through the market to get to Woodsworth College at UofT, just north and slightly east of Kensington.

As I walking up Augusta, I heard crying and at the same time, saw a young woman seated on a bench with her open purse lying beside her. She was wailing uncontrollably and although it was nighttime, there were still a few passersby walking on the sidewalk, completely ignoring this clearly distraught woman.

I'll admit, the first thought that popped into my head was: "I should probably just keep walking". But that thought lasted only for a split second as I felt the need to at least go talk to her and reassure her and maybe see what was going on.

I sat down beside the young woman and asked her what was wrong. I'm not sure if she answered (or even attempted to), but her crying subsided somewhat and I asked her if she wanted a hug. Still no words escaped her mouth until I had wrapped my arms around her (and her arms around me) and I heard her say, very softly: "T-thank you".

I asked again what was wrong, and she either didn't seem to want to talk about it or did not understand, so I questioned her no further. I told her, in somewhat jumbled words: "Whatever is going on right now in your life... don't worry, it's all going to be okay". She stopped crying and smiled and thanked me again. She then asked me where I was from, if I was from Canada. I told her I was from here, from Toronto, and that I had lived here all my life.

It was at that moment that I realized that she was not from here. I needlessly asked her if she was from Canada, to which she replied: "No. Japan."
Being very fond of Japan and its culture (despite how little I know of it), I smiled and said: "Really? Awesome! Where in Japan?"

She did not seem to understand what I said (I might have been mumbling), but I asked her if she was from Tokyo. She was! So I asked her what she was up to in Canada, and she told me: "I work at Ali Baba's".
"Oh, the shawarma place! Yum!"
She laughed a bit and seemed much happier.
I asked her what her name was, and she told me "Coco".

I wrote down my e-mail for her and told her to write if she needed anything, and that my name was Gabriel. I did not want to pressure her into telling her life story to a total stranger, so I thought that was the best course of action.

As I got up to walk away, I thought I heard her say: "Wow. What a funny bag!"
She was referring to my djembe carrying case that I was wearing as a very large backpack. I realized how strange it might have looked to her eyes. But since our goodbyes had already been said, I continued to walk toward my destination and did not look back.

-

In retrospect, I wondered many things. Maybe I should have stuck around longer. Maybe she needed someone to talk to, despite the language barrier. Maybe she had been kicked out and needed a warm place to stay. Had I said enough to comfort her?

But in the back of my mind, that constant societal reminder not to be "creepy" lurked and stopped me from doing anything more. Still, this fleeting moment I shared with Coco made me feel alive; human; and reminds me that I am not a mindless drone devoid of compassion. No, I am Gabriel and I care about the world and its inhabitants.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Gone in 37 seconds

Red bike, stand out, tuck in, lock secured.

Slick tuque, windproof jacket, rain drizzling, speedily pedaling on Davenport Rd.

Night falls, lights on, mind off, wind blowing on my face.

Race by the still cars, freedom just beyond the lights, shadows from the lampposts fade behind me.

Turn signal on, lose the grip on the handlebar, soar through the biosphere.

Black asphalt, grey sidewalk, yellow crossings blink on and off.

Lose track of time, win the rat race, brake fast, and stash bike away.

Signed,

Kaleidoughscope

Creeping in

I see you, dark angel. I see you lurking just beyond where my eyes can see. You were gone for a good while, leaving nothing behind except for traces of your gluttony. And during that time, the light angel showed me heaven.

Now you dare creep back into my life after having been gone for so little time? You are not welcome. And this time, your curses will not linger for very long. I built up my defences. She helped me. You might have taken down one wall, but I have a veritable fortress standing in your way. You will not pierce it.

The light angel is stronger. She always was, I just never realized it as much as I do now. Your attempts shall all be in vain. I will not succumb to your temptations of comfort and safety.

I have the blade. And I intend to use it.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Monkeying Around

I am the seasoned traveler of the Labyrinth.
The genius of alacrity, wizard of the impossible.
My brilliance is yet unmatched in its originality.
My heart is filled with potent magic that could cast a hundred spells.
I am put together for mine own pleasure.

Source: Deviantart

I am the Monkey.

Source: Theodora Lau

Run, Escape, Hide, ?

Run.
You can't get far.
Escape. You can, for a while.
Hide. You always have the choice;
At the edge of valour's blade.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

She'll stop the whole world

For years, I've felt the world growing into a monster, and, not knowing how to stop it, I turned the world into something to wage war against.

But the battle has already been won, and it was never mine to fight.

And now, the future is at hand.

Pour your (crazy) heart out

It's all okay. It's all okay. It's  all okay. It's all going to be okay. It's all okay. She's here. Lyra's here.
It's okay. You're not crazy. No, don't look the word up crazy in the dictionary, that's just stupid.
What if...
No, you're not crazy.
Screw Holden Caulfield.
Did that feel good?
A little bit.
I feel like editing. I looked up already and I found a mistake.
No, you don't feel like editing. Who cares. Get yourself an editor if you wanna write.

Mesmerized for a little while, there.
Neat, huh?
Yeah, I always knew you could do that.
Knowing and feeling are very, very different, honey.

Shh! Keep your voice down.
Why? There's no one here except me and you.
But in the future, like... someone might read this and they might start thinking ideas about all this.
Right, and that would be bad because...?
Oh hell, I feel like erasing stuff already.
...
Actually, after a bit of reflection, it's all good.
You didn't answer my question, you know.
Oh! Right. Well, I'm going to explain what I was thinking. Okay. This ain't easy to remember.
-He closes his eyes and tunes into the space music playing from the radio-
The theme, it has to be fear. Fear and surprise, surprise and fea-
That's already too much Monty Python for me, dear. Do try and be serious.
Okay. Let me try again.
-Pause-
I was afraid. I am afraid. I am afraid of being judged for acting outside of society's limits. I'm also paralyzed with this fear when I think back to the moments in the past where I was so very alone; so lost and searching endlessly for the external proof.
Try and relate it to what we're talking about.
Well, see, I'm writing here, and practically anyone in the world can read this if they so choose to. And there's just so much talk about privacy online these days, so that's got me worried for some reason.
-Pause-
But at the same time, I desperately want all this to be read.

Sweet dreams.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Pong

Sometimes I walk back and forth between the two doors in my room and pretend I'm a pong ball . It really helps with the existential crises.

Feminisms

So I'm at Robarts library, spending a quiet Saturday catching up on my readings. I'm somewhat behind, but luckily the next couple weeks seem pretty uneventful, at least as far as course work goes.

I wouldn't say I'm passionate about any of my courses this year (since a lot of the work is just meaningless regurgitation of material), but I find myself surprised by one of them: Intro to Women & Gender Studies. Now, I'll be honest: I decided to enrol in this course partly because it's one of the few courses left at UofT that are full-year. I much prefer these to the half-year scrambles that I'm regrettably having to get accustomed to.

However, another reason I took this course is because I'd met the prof at an orientation event at the beginning of the year. Her obvious passion for teaching had really impressed me, so I decided to enrol in her course knowing that even if I was disinterested in the material, at least I'd have a decent prof.

Surprise! I find myself enjoying not only the lectures, but also quite a bit of the material - a great recipe for success in university. So, why do I like it? Well, for starters, it covers a large range of topics. For example: One week, we had a discussion on gender and sex construction in intersex individuals and the history of their acceptance in society. Another week, we studied the impact that colonialism had on aboriginal women and traditional native divisions of power. And now, we're currently looking at the role that women play in building nations, both literally and figuratively.

One article I especially liked was actually the first reading the prof gave to us. And it really changed the way I thought about something I didn't really know much about at the time: feminism.

Basically, the author (Shashi Deshpand) argues that feminism, for some reason, is often seen in a negative light - both by men, and women. I found one particular statistic fascinating: sixty-three percent of American women reject feminism, according to a recent issue of Time.

The author goes on to mention how she often met women who would preface their sentences with "I'm not a feminist, but...".

I, too, have encountered this phenomenon in the past. Not being very knowledgeable with feminist ideology, I then assumed that feminism must be a bad thing, since some of my female friends so often rejected it.

But, according to Shashi, feminism is nothing at all like what the popular stereotypes might portray: it's not about being anti-men; it's not about being super vocal and preaching to people; and it's definitely not about waging a war against the other sex for dominance.

So, then, what is feminism? I could try and sum up what I know, but I'd rather wait and see what I've learnt from something I actually care about outside of school. Suffice to say, I think feminism is part of a greater movement to make the world a much, much better place for all.

And now, I must return to inundating my brain with complex Marxian texts for my Soc class. Oh, joy.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope