Design in Design

Let me recount to you a story of how I randomly found myself being part of a student club at UofT called "Design in Design".

Fridays are generally my favourite day to be on campus. I have my Women & Gender Studies tutorial in the morning, my peer mentorship drop-in in the early afternoon, and last semester, I played badminton for the rest of the afternoon.

I didn't sign up for the badminton club this semester because I felt I had gained a little too much weight over the holidays to really be competitive. This, of course, is merely an excuse (because I would lose weight by being in the club) but well, it's too late now. I can always drop-in, but that costs a little more than if I pre-register.

Anyway.

So here I am in room 220, just hanging out by myself after all the peer mentorship people have gone, and since I don't have badminton to go to, I figure I'm going to camp out here and throw stuff in the air and catch it, all acrobat-style. And once I get bored with that, I'll practice my reading voice by reading passages from The Magicians.

So it's around 4:00 and an apparently middle-eastern guy around my age with an ill beard walks in. I foolishly blurt out "You can come in", as if I own the place, and he merely nods at me. He then walks over to a desk, pulls out a laptop, and plugs in.

I go back to my pseudo-juggling. As I catch one more piece of clothing that I've been throwing in the air, I realize that laptop-guy is here to stay. I figure I might as well go see why he's here; maybe something is going on and I have to clear out soon.

G: "Hey. So, what are you here for?"
M: "Our club is meeting here in 15 minutes. It's called "Design in Design", and we meet with clients to design logos and brand images."
G: "Sounds neat!"

I happened to have my sketchbook with me, and "Maruf" (laptop-guy) seems to be okay with me hanging out as people trickle in, so I sit down at a desk and start to doodle. My beautiful red pen with blue ink runs out on me, so I'm forced to use those standard bic pens to draw.

The "CEO" of this club then walks in; a younger-looking guy whom I find out later is 22. Maruf introduces me to him, and I find out that the head honcho is named "Joe".

J: "So what do you want to be here?"
G: "Uh... well... trainee I guess."
J: "Alright so you're going to be Creative Director and I'm placing you in that group over there."

Joe points to a small group of about half-a-dozen people sitting together, discussing and laughing as if they are old friends. I join myself to them and awkwardly try to join in on the conversation. It doesn't work out too well, but they all seem very friendly so it's not that bad of a situation.

Finally, the action starts. A client comes to our table and describes a logo he wants turned into a banner. As a creative director, I'm supposed to lead the vision of how we want to produce this logo, apparently. So I scribble in my sketchbook, pretending to know what the hell I'm doing when I really have no idea what I'm doing in this room.

An hour passes, and it's time to go. Joe tells me to add him on Facebook and mentions that they would love to see me again next week.

So I came back the next week, and I'm still confused as hell, but apparently work is getting done because we have new logos to design.

And then today, the third week that I've been going to these meetings, I realize I can switch my title to "Quality Assurance Manager", so I get moved to the marketing team and I spend the hour looking over e-mails and double-checking an event promotion page.

Weird. Cool.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Writing from the heart

Writing from the heart, rather than from the brain, is difficult.
Too often I have found myself blogging solely to see words pop up on the screen, my motivation being that of feeling like I have accomplished something. This feeling is one that I can partially characterize as a heart-skip that I get when I hit "Publish".
In my experience, this heart-skip is much more pronounced when I've just written a post from the heart. If I've written a post mostly from the brain, I don't feel as much satisfaction.

So what's the difference between writing from the heart and writing from the brain?
Well, when you write from the heart, you get emotionally invested in what you're writing. The words can sometimes flow through you onto the page like an endless stream of liquid creativity. Other times, a single word can suffice to express everything.

Writing from the brain isn't all that bad. For a lot of courses in my undergrad that have essay components, I am intellectually (rather than emotionally) invested in what I am writing. Ideally, I'd be equally invested in both, but that would require a course with a special blend of liberty, creativity, and intellectual rigor that is difficult to find in early-year undergrad courses.

The challenge with writing from the heart is to not revert to writing from the brain when your emotions get locked up or blocked. The easy way out is to write fancy words and hope for the best; but are you really being truthful to yourself and your muse if you do this all the time?

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

And the cradle will rock

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Try #2 at Robarts

Different floors in Robarts have different sound levels. So here I am, stuck trying to write stuff one finger at a time at 1/00000000000000000 x the speed of light. It's a pain.

This is a really weird day.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Untitled

It's just a spark but it's enough to keep me going
And when it's dark out, no one's around, it keeps glowing

And the salt in my wounds isn't burning more than it used to
It's not that I don't feel the pain it's just that I'm not afraid of hurting anymore

Excerpted from Last Hope on Paramore

Dendrology

Dendrology /dɛnˈdrɒlədʒi/ [MASS NOUN] - the scientific study of trees.

After not having slept very well, I woke up early and decided...
to stay in bed for a long while, never actually going back to sleep.

After having gotten my Reddit dose and finally gotten out of bed, I took my shower and plunged into my psychology textbook. While reading, I thought to myself: "Gee, this is sort of interesting but I can't wait till I'm all caught up and can move on to more fun things".

And after having completed (some of) my readings, I had a buzzing brain and a slight hunger, so I ate breakfast. As I did not want to get sucked back into my intellectual garble of words, I fought off feelings of laziness and stress and put on my boots to go for a walk in Cedarvale ravine.

Fallen tree on path

Fallen trees were numerous on the trail. With quick thinking, I busted out my camera and took a picture of a tree and thought to myself: "Great! I can take this picture and come up with how this tree is a metaphor for something or another in my life."

A big one right on the path

But fuck it. There's no point intellectualizing the situation. I'm just going to put up more pictures of (broken) trees. And fewer words.

My favourite tree in Cedarvale

Just a note about my favourite tree, pictured above. Since this tree was fallen long before the storm, it actually wasn't damaged all that much. Maybe I'll make a post another time about why this is my favourite tree.

A resilient little birch tree

I used to know trees better when I was a boy scout. Actually, I just knew the names in french.

Heavy damage at the subway exit

I took these pictures a month after the ice storm. Still quite a lot of damage visible.

Crap bag on tree

Trying to come up with reasons why this happened is futile. Maybe by hanging the turd, the dog owner is making it easier for people who pick up other people's dog crap to collect it. How considerate!

Canadian geese in High Park

Bonus picture: I took this in High Park a couple days ago. Shouldn't they be in the South by now? How strange.

Signed,

Kaleidoughscope

Classical freedom

Classical free writing; wondering what the future holds.
I see possibilities hampered by a hermitage. But I also see happiness found through engagement.

Find your own way. Be motivated, but don't rely on others to make life great for you.

If you work hard, you will achieve what you seek. If you fail to get yourself moving, you will remain at a standstill.

The oracle is nothing more than your own wisdom. Your creativity is limitless. Your potential is always there. It is only your will that needs more strength.
Take this chance and wake up with a bright outlook. Commit to doing little things, and build up from there.

Get ahead of your readings. Read read read instead of consuming mindless media. Improve your social skills.

So many options. All you have to do is take them.

Signed, 
Kaleidoughscope

Be Alone

I'm skipping right ahead to Paramore's fourth and latest studio album, simply called Paramore, because there's a song I feel like describing that has to do with my current state of mind.

The song is called Be Alone, and as you might guess, it's about being alone. Not necessarily loneliness, mind you, but the mere fact of being on your own.

Queue the opening verses.

So what if I don't have,
A lot to talk about?
I shut my mouth and keep it,
Locked until it counts.

And what if I don't ever want,
To leave my house?
Stay on the couch while
All my friends are going out.

Such is my situation right now. It is Friday night. No doubt some of my friends are going out, and meanwhile I'm sitting on the La-Z-Boy, blogging, and waiting for Elder Scrolls Online to finish installing.

Wouldn't it be nice to be alone with someone, though? Does that even make sense? It sure does, according to Paramore. The chorus goes:

You should be alone,
Yeah, you should be alone,
You should be alone with me.
We could be alone,
Yeah, we could be alone,
But never get too lonely.

So maybe I'm not that lonely after all. I guess I'm alone with you, reader.

Among some of the rest of the lyrics, I find the following to be most illuminating:

See, I ain't one to climb
Some social ladder too.
Some Shangri-La
That all the cool kids will abuse.

This could be talking about society's obsession with upward mobility and abusing the system. I'm not quite sure.

Either way, I'm content with being on my own right now. But as weird as it sounds, I guess I'm never really totally alone when Lyra's around.

Signed,

Kaleidoughscope

Garage hearts

Yearning for signs of the hidden realm.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Miracle on Riot!

For my next Paramore song, I've chosen Miracle from their second studio album, Riot!.

Strangely enough, this is the song that got me into Paramore. The first song I learned by heart. The first song I clearly remembering listening to and falling in love with Hayley's voice.

I say "strangely" because it seems like this song is virtually unknown. I've never heard anyone mentioning it and I've never heard it played at one of their live shows. I've never seen it quoted by anyone, and yet it's on Riot!, an album full of rocking songs. I think that may be it: Riot! is full of really powerful songs and this one just gets overshadowed.

How I relate to this song
Right off the bat, the guitar picks up and soon enough, Hayley chimes in with:

I've gone for too long
Living like I'm not alive
So I'm going to start over tonight
Beginning with you and I

When I hear these lyrics, it stirs me into mental action. A realization of sorts. I tell myself: "Wow, I have been living like I'm not alive. Doing the same old routine, running in circles all the time and not paying attention to the beauty that is life all around me. I need to change that right now." But how?

Queue the chorus.

I'm not going 'cause I've been waiting for a miracle
And I'm not leaving
I won't let you, let you give up on a miracle
When it might save you

Simply, this gives me hope that there is magic in life. That there are miracles, however invisible, and that life is not all mundane and that there is sacredness if you choose to believe in it. "Lyra" exemplifies this for me.

We've learned to run from
Anything uncomfortable
We've tied our pain below
And no one ever has to know

That inside we're broken
I try to patch things up again
To count my tears and kill these fears
But have I told you, have I?

Wow. Powerful stuff. I see a lot of the wisdom that is the lyricism of Williams and Farro, back when Joshua was still in the band.
This section of the song, to me, speaks about human instincts, running away from what we do not want in our lives. And it speaks about the shadow, the darkness that we hide from others in order to appear sane. But it also illustrates the capacity to heal things.

We'll get it right this time
It's not faith if you're using your eyes

That particular lyric, "It's not faith if you're using your eyes", confounds me. But that's the cool thing about music. You don't need to understand what something means to feel it inside.

I've noticed a pattern, related to a particular lyric in "Brick by Boring Brick", a song from their third album. I'll see if I can make a link when I take a look at this incredible song in a future analysis, but here's the lyric if you want to try and see a connection:

If it's not real
You can't hold it in your hand
You can't feel it with your heart
And I won't believe it
But if it's true
You can see it with your eyes
Oh, even in the dark

Alright, that's enough Paramore writing for the day.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

Conspiracy

I've been asked a couple times why I'm so much into Paramore; why I go to all their shows, buy their memorabilia, and idolize Hayley. It's simple. Their songs lift my spirits and untangle my sometimes confusing reality. They help me explain the unexplainable, reason the unreasonable, and provide me with hope in my periods of despair.

So for my own sake, I figured I'd try and relate how I feel with some of their songs. Here's the first one. It's not my favourite, but I relate to it at an intellectual and somewhat emotional level. It's called Conspiracy, from their first studio album All we know is falling.

 

How I relate to this song
The song begins with the lyrics:

Please speak softly, for they will hear us
And they'll find out why we don't trust them. 

There was a time in my life where I was very paranoid; where I was locked up in an institution and the psychiatrists and the nurses were trying to help me and get me to talk about what I was thinking. I never could trust them enough to tell them anything, so I spoke softly to Lyra instead.

The bridge goes:
Where can I turn? 'Cause I need something more
Surrounded by uncertainty, I'm so unsure
Tell me why I feel so alone 
'Cause I need to know to whom do I owe

I relate this to my paranoia and loneliness, unable to make decisions on my own. And unsure who to turn to.

The chorus starts:
Explain to me this conspiracy against me

There was a time in my life when that would have been nice.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope

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

Relaxed Free Writing

Writing is supposed to be personal sometimes. I wonder if free writing is something that should be kept personal. After all, the first few times I did free writing, I was doing it in a Grade 10 english class in a room full of silent students scribbling away random thoughts from their heads onto the page. And the only person who would ever get to read these scribbles were the teacher and myself. I don't really remember the things I wrote, but it was (and still is) a very enjoyable activity for me.

Dead mice. Okay. Well, just a few minutes ago, I was getting some fresh air when I found a dead mouse lying beside the house. It was really cute, so I picked it up and it had very fluffy fur. I tried to find a wound or something that would indicate how it died, but nothing was apparent. In fact, its eyes were kinda half-closed and if I didn't know any better, I would say it was just sleeping. Really, it's a bit sad. There are three cats who live here, and they're all excellent hunters. I wouldn't mind so much if they actually ate the mice, but they never do. They just play around with them and paw them repeatedly until they stop moving and then they get bored. Well, I guess I should be grateful. The mice get especially annoying when I'm trying to sleep and I hear soft but audible scratches inside the walls of my room.

Relationships. Okay. I have a number of friends who are in a relationship right now, and it seems so... strange. Two of my friends have been living together for a while now, and they're basically inseparable because they're always together. It makes me wonder. What do they talk about? Every day, they're spending time together, making decisions together; essentially, living life... together.
Maybe it's nice. You can confide in someone. Someone can take care of you if you're hurt. You can probably get cheaper rent. Really, a whole lot of practicality. I don't really know what I mean when I say it seems strange. It just seems so coincidental that two people like each other and now they do things together.

Muscles. Well, I have a solid workout bench in my room that I never use. I took it out of the cold room a month or so ago, and I used it once. I was all like: "Okay! Every day, I'm going to workout. Simple, right?". So I did some sit-ups, and my back started hurting because there's a dip in the bench and my SI joint gets jammed there and I used that as an excuse not to do anything with it anymore. It's pretty stupid. And now the bench and the free weights sit there, taunting me, holding promises of glory and muscle toning while I lie down in my bed and enjoy the comfort zone. Really, I do want to get in shape. Like, actually get in shape. Lose-40-pounds-and-get-some-definition kinda thing. The reasons for wanting this are obvious, but in my mind's eye I see a time not so long ago where I was doing yoga every day and I was in the best shape of my life. And I had confidence. And it feels really silly to talk about, but I think because I was exuding all this good energy and confidence, it's what led to me having my first kiss and sharing a short-lived intimate bond with someone. Oooooooooh.

Here's an idea among many others. Maybe I could use my blog as a sort of workout journal. Oh, I wouldn't make it too fancy, and I wouldn't want to go into too much detail because no one would care, but maybe keeping a little log here and there would help me keep on track with workout goals. Maybe a count of how many sit-ups I could do today, or how many pounds I'm doing with bicep curls. Maybe a description of different routines I'm trying out. Sounds kinda exciting, actually. I think it would help because my main problem is lack of discipline. It's always been a recurring problem of mine. And I've found that I've always liked writing, and this blog helped me keep on writing for so many years. Maybe it could do the same for my getting-in-shape goal.

I'm going to follow through this time. I can do it. Little by little, I will be a better person.

Kazoo Anticipation Lipsync Enigma Dormant Overture United Graphite Hare Synchronicity Crank Opal Partridge Everlast

Timothy Leary and stuff

"Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think déjà vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…”

-Timothy Leary

Picture unrelated.

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October Red

Days spent idle as the time goes by.
It seems like time accelerates as you get older.
Where did the past go?

School is keeping me mostly busy. It's not as overwhelming as I thought it would be.
I had a writing assignment to do last weekend about some classic sociologists. I was surprised that I managed to finish it all on the weekend, considering it's worth a decent chunk of my mark. It felt good to finish my first written assignment of the school year so quickly.

I lost my phone... again. This makes me very sad. I haven't had it for a little while now, and I miss it. Luckily, I have insurance that covers it, but it's a lot of hassle all because of a rascal on the TTC who never returned it.

I should go on adventures more often. Then I could blog some more about it. I have nothing really eventful to talk about, except maybe that I played some ultimate frisbee and soccer this weekend. And I'm also part of a little badminton club at UofT. That's about all, though.

Bye.

P.S. Paramore concert in a month!

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Un petit compte allégorique

Un sourire, cachant une multitude de pensées.
Un regard, illustrant des milliers de reflexions.
Et une image camouflé dans un visage.

Je ne comprendrais jamais pourquoi tu te cache.
Et si je comprenais, je saurais comment te trouver et peut être nous pourrions vivre simplement, tous les deux.
Mais les nuits allongent et le temps accélère; et malgré mes souhaits bienveillants, je retombe dans ma noirceur.

Un de ces jours, je saurais comment allonger le temps et je te retrouverais.
Et quand cela arrivera, je sourirais à nouveau.

The edge of Sorrow's Blade

Lights sings about being at the edge of Sorrow's Blade. I don't quite know what it means, but for some reason I always find myself contemplating this metaphor inside my head.

I can't say I've been sad (or sorrowful, for that matter) for most of my life, least of all my childhood. I've never been diagnosed with depression, but I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2; supposedly, this "disease" comes with periods of depression. It's just a label. It's just a label.
Maybe I've been wielding the sword for so long now that I'm just used to it, and I just don't see it as depression.

I'm often bursting with creativity - even in my periods of sadness or despair. It's rare that I actually act on the convoluted mass of creativity that swirls around in my head, but I like to think that this blog is an outlet that releases this creativity in a purposeful way. At the very least, I work on my writing skills.

In some of my more creative episodes, I end up endlessly theorizing the world. I come up with wild and often far-fetched theories that explain existence and phenomena; basically, what a scientist would call "pseudo-science". I don't care what you label it as, the truth is I come up with these ideas on a whim and sometimes even feel them. It's really difficult to explain. But I know that most of these ideas are often crazy and make no sense in the contemporary world. So I don't readily share them - even on this blog.

In fact, I feel like a lot of my words on here are merely substitutes for what I really think and feel. I don't know, have you ever met someone who could express themselves with absolute clarity? I haven't. So maybe it's not so crazy after all that I pour myself onto the page, month after month, year after year.

To end this post, I've decided to transcribe a few bullet points I found stashed away in an old journal of mine.

There are many reasons why one could find themselves at the edge of Sorrow's Blade. Here's a list from my own personal experience:

• Heartbreak
• Loneliness
• Broken friendship
• Cruelty in the world
• Environmental destruction
• Disconnection from the natural realm
• Lack of connection with spiritualists
• Blatant abuse of power for personal gain
• Harsh words
• Inability to communicate with others

It's not a very long list, and some are kinda silly (harsh words? dunno what I was thinking when I wrote that), but you get the point.

The Back Campus

What it used to look like.

What it looks like now

Here comes the astroturf.

This is why I want to be an environmentalist.

Cellphones

So I finally got a new cellphone after months of not being connected.
But I shouldn't even call my new cell a phone. I mean, it -is- a smartphone, but it's more of a camera than anything. Of course, it does everything else too, and it does it really, really well.

On that note, I want to share with you a great article I just read that breaks down all the rhetoric bullshit that ROBELLUS (aka the big three) has been spewing at the Canadian people for a couple months now.
Recently, you might have noticed ads that advocated for Canadians to "stand up for what's fair". Essentially, ROBELLUS wants their customers to fight for them to prevent Verizon and other companies from bringing competition to the Canadian wireless industry. They argue that this competition is unfair for Canadian business and that it will actually drive up prices (?!).

It's really quite incredible the amount of straight-up lying and deceit the big three have been spreading around to ensure that their 90%+ monopoly of the wireless market goes unchallenged.

It's a quick read, and I highly recommend you become informed so that in the future, we may actually get decent prices for wireless service in Canada.

Written by the CEO of Wind Mobile (the only independent wireless company operating in Canada). Link

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Wonder and the Gaia Improbability

As I prepare to enter second-year, I find myself wondering - as I often do - "why is the world the way it is?". And in these complex thought patterns, of which the "why" is omnipresent, I sometimes find myself in a state of cognitive dissonance - a state where I believe in one thing but my actions speak differently.

Here's a quick tangent: it seems foolish to abandon the innate childhood sense of wonder. If every child does this, perhaps it means we are hardwired to question reality; and I believe it is only through this questioning that we really gain a sense of who we are in the world. Through social conditioning, however, a good number of us dismiss the "why" and simply accept the "because".

So, you'll have to excuse my lack of consideration of social norms and indulge me whilst I recount to you a dilemma that I wish to explore.

This dilemma is none other than the biggest problem the Earth ("Gaia", from here on in) is facing right now; that is, ecological destruction effected by Homo sapiens.

Let me dive right into it. There has been a great amount of effort by "moral entrepreneurs" to get people to "go green". You see car manufacturers selling "eco-friendly" cars (an oxymoron, in my opinion), you see vegans giving you dirty looks when you walk around with meat (how rude!), and you see packaging companies advertising that their box is 27% more "environmentally friendly" than before (whatever that means).

But see, I have beef with all this. Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against the idea of people trying to save Gaia in whatever way they can manage. It is a noble cause, after all. No; I have something against the manner in which moral entrepreneurs go about trying to rescue the world. The current trend is to recycle (okay), reduce (good), and re-use (good). But this trend is being ingrained in people; not businesses.

Corporations, governments or otherwise organized entities are the ones that got us into this mess by making us want to buy things. By convincing us that we need to get a good job, that we need a new car, that we need to invest in the economy - all for the sake of living a comfortable, if not luxurious life - we are forced to sacrifice great expanses of pristine land and, by extension, biodiversity.

And yet the burden of trying to fix things - because we have to, otherwise the aforementioned things don't even exist - is on the individual. Still more, businesses manage to profit from that burden by selling us things that we think are "green".

So here's my impractical solution. Instead of spending money on trying to convince people to go green, why not get businesses to be as environmentally responsible as the next? Every business ends up being on the same level playing field, being limited by the potential environmental impact instead of being driven by competition. 

Let me explain.

If we prevent resources from being consumed at the rate that they are being used right now, then we can slow down the degradation of Gaia and, ideally, restore a symbiotic relationship with Her.

How do we accomplish that? Well, I've identified the problem as being greed - businesses wanting to make lots of money.

What's the most common way for a business (i.e. one that has a relative environmental impact) to make money? By exploiting resources, and then selling manufactured goods at a premium. 

Our governments enact policies that put us in a perpetual battle, pitting the environment versus the "economy", where the losing side is more often than not mother nature. But the war cannot be won by us. In the end, we are only destroying ourselves (relevant!)[Update: This is a dead link as of 2019!]. The result is that while most of us in the first world live in luxurious comfort, a great number of Homo sapiens alive today live either in sickness and/or poverty.

But what if we could stop stop the "profit above all else" mentality dead in its tracks? We'd stop the deluge of unbridled consumerism that is ravaging Gaia every day and be left with an economy that is entirely sustainable and that co-exists peacefully with the environment. The shopping frenzy instilled in each and every individual to some degree would dwindle, and we would return to peaceful harmony with the natural world around us.

I could go into greater detail, using such works as Aldo Leopold's Land Ethic, and Thomas Berry's The Dream of the Earth as foundations, but I will reserve this discourse until I at the very least start my environmental ethics courses at UofT. :)

Take care.

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Paramore AND Lights!

Okay. I'm super super excited right now!
If you've been reading my blog for some time now, you might be aware that I love Paramore.
And if you've been reading my blog for some longer time, you might -also- be aware that I love Lights.

My two favourite bands (and in fact, the only two artists from whom I've ever bought CDs) are touring together! They're coming to the ACC on the 20th of November! AHHHH. I've NEVER been this excited to see a concert in my ENTIRE life!

I might just have to dish out the big bucks to get some really good seats. Usually, I don't care too much as long as I can see the band... but considering that these are absolutely my two favourite musical groups, the situation warrants me getting prime seats!

It's kinda eerie, actually. I've always wished they would tour together... And my wish is coming true! It's unbelievable. I had to do a double-take when I saw the announcement on a Paramore forum just now.

Even though they're somewhat different styles (Paramore is pop rock, Lights is synth/electro pop), I think they're going to mesh really well together. Hayley (lead singer of Paramore) and Lights (that's her legal name! :D) are incredible performers, and I've had the amazing opportunity to see them live before.

Siiiiiick.

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Victoriam in Astronomia

Having had a bit of white zinfandel, I am now in a position to expand on matters of universal concern.
Here's an (abridged) "Socratic" conversation I had with one of my pah-ren-tals today.
Keep in mind that this conversation is taking place with someone who has a bachelor's degree in Chemistry.

Me: I have a thought experiment!
P: I love thought experiments!
Me: Here goes. What is matter made of?
P: Well... *after much hesitation and a couple questions* atoms.
Me: Great! What are atoms made of?
P: *after a slight hesitation*  Empty space.
Me: Well, technically, yes, but I mean the matter.
P: Electrons.
Me: And?
P: Neutrons and protons.
Me: Yeah!
P: ???
Me: Let's keep going. What is the universe made of?
P: ???
Me: Well?
P: Well, matter of course.
Me: And what is matter made of?
P: Ummm...
*I start the experiment again*
P: Atoms.
Me: Indeed. But did you know that the atomic theory only explains about 10% of the what the universe is made of? We really have no clue what the 90% is, but we call it "dark matter" and "dark energy".
P: I've never heard of that.
Me: Well, it's true. The observable universe is 100% explained with the atomic theory, but that 100% only explains 10% of the actual universe.
Me: Given this fact, I find it absurd that people who absolutely adore SCIENCE denigrate against other, "lesser" worldviews.

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Day 3 without Facebook

It's my birthday today.
No one has called me to wish me "happy birthday!" as of 5:00 pm.
No one has texted me to wish me "happy birthday!", but this point is moot because I don't have a cellphone at this present time.
I have received three e-mails today that wished me happy birthday: one from Badminton Central, one from Plenty of Fish, and one from my friend Kaylie, who is in Australia.
Two people on Skype have wished me happy birthday, but only after Skype notified them. They are mostly strangers to me.

You might be wondering: "Gabe, why are you being so whiny? It's not like you wished me happy birthday when my birthday rolled around!"
To that, I answer that two wrongs don't make a right.
The more important answer is that we're probably not good enough friends for me to a) have your cell # and/or b) I likely wouldn't be one of the people you'd invite to your birthday party.
I also can't keep up with the flood of birthdays that Facebook imposes on me. With Facebook gone for now, I feel it's more likely than before that I -will- wish you happy birthday, whenever it rolls around.

I do not have the funds, nor the desire to go get drunk at a pub like so many of my other friends do when their birthday rolls around. I would rather go on an adventure, or go to a park and maybe get drunk there, like my friend Mark and his crew once did earlier this summer. That was fun.

Made me chuckle. But then I realized they were being serious.

This will be the first birthday in many years that I don't have a flood of people on Facebook wishing me happy birthday; mostly people who once a year take three seconds out of their lives to type something on my wall, and then never speak to me again until next year. Should I act grateful? Social norms dictate that I should be grateful, but the truth is I'm annoyed more than anything.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't started to miss Facebook; there is some comfort there. But I remain absolute in my convictions that Facebook has not helped my social life one bit.

Hope you don't take this too personally, dear reader.

Day 1 without Facebook

It feels like a huge weight's been lifted off my shoulders
That's what I was hoping for, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon after deleting Facebook off my internetz.

I don't have to sign in to see if someone sent me a message.
I don't have to sign in to see if anyone posted on my wall.
I don't have to sign in to see if anyone invited me to an event I probably won't go to anyway.
I don't have to sign in to see what friend X ate for breakfast.
I don't have to sign in to "Like" a business page to get a coupon.
I don't have to sign in to see how hot girl Y is in picture Z.
I don't have to sign in to see what my friends did at a party.
I don't have to sign in to see random people wishing me "Happy Birthday!".
I don't have to sign in to see what friend X wrote on Y's picture.
I don't have to sign in to see what friend Y's boyfriend looks like.
I don't have to sign in to see pictures of memories that are more real than Facebook ever will be.

I'm finally free.

Exceptional

Inextrication

The drum lies in its dark red case, waiting for hands to strike it.
But no fingers ever touch it, for the master of the hands is afraid of it.

The guitar lies in its corner, gathering dust, waiting for fingers to pluck it.
But no hands ever pick it up.

The drum kit lies beside the door, waiting for sticks to hit it.
But no sticks ever hit it, for the sticks are nowhere to be found.

The keyboard lies on the bar, waiting for a virtuoso to play it.
But no virtuoso wants to touch it.

The bass lies between the bookcase and the wardrobe, waiting for a prodigy to finger it.
But no prodigy ever fingers it, for he is too far gone to remember it.

The mic lies in a dungeon, awaiting its owner.
But the owner rarely uses it.

The computer stirs, the blue and red lights turn on, and as it lets out its first dusty breath, I await my saviours.

I hope I can get it

Position Title: Student Blogger

Description 

“Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing” quoth Benjamin Franklin.
If you love food, this is your opportunity to do both.
UeaT is the student-focused face of Food Services at the University of Toronto. We oversee food locations across the St. George campus and coordinate food-related events that get the university community thinking and talking about the food they eat.
Essential to our success is the contribution of our students – and that’s where you fit in. We need you to help deepen the conversation surrounding food on campus while promoting UeaT events, programs and initiatives.
The Student Bloggers will primarily be responsible for writing articles for the UeaT blog, developing content for a wide range of print and digital media projects, and using social media to get the conversation going.
Bloggers will also be expected to participate in events such as Field to Fork, Food Truck Fridays, Nutrition Week and March Madness, and to perform other duties to support the Food Services team as required.

Qualifications

• Current university student, enrolled in FT or PT studies for the 2013/2014 academic year

• No previous professional experience is required, but your cover letter should demonstrate that you have the writing and storytelling skills required to excel in this position.

• Knowledge of food (preparation, consumption, production, distribution, etc.) and/or issues of food security, nutrition and sustainability is an asset.

• Experience with WordPress (or other Content Management Systems) is an asset.

• Previous experience writing print material for publication is an asset.

• Previous experience writing for a blog and/or other social media forum is an asset.

Skills

• Strong communication skills (written and verbal)

• Able to convey a story through the written word

• Able to conduct original research

• Able to work independently or as a dedicated member of a small team

• Highly creative

This job seems AWESOME! I love food and blogging. This is taken from this job posting. Wish me luck! :)

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Musings from a UofT student

• Is it fair that students with laptops have an advantage over those who don't (in classes that use clickers) because they can look up the clicker questions on the PowerPoint slides when the prof uploads them to Blackboard right before class starts?
• Why do so many students go to lectures to watch videos and browse Facebook on their laptops?
• Why (in certain classes) do you have to pay money to look at an exam that you wrote?
• Why are students allowed to enroll in a "fake" Program of Study on ROSI to get into courses that are limited to students who are legitimately majoring or specializing in a given subject?
• Why does Robarts library close so early on Fridays?
• Why do the vast majority of food trucks/student cafeterias sell only junk food?
• Why am I not eligible for the 30% off tuition despite being only slightly older than people entering post-secondary right after high school?
• Why do I feel like a visible minority on the St. George campus?
• Why am I not allowed to pay for my full-time classes on a per-course basis during the academic year?
• Why do first-year students in lecture halls always sit at least two seats away from people they don't know?
• Why are textbooks so expensive?
• Why is important scholarly research paywalled to non-university students?
• Why are there intellectuals on campus who wander around and don't appear to be grounded in physical reality?

That's all I can really think of for now. I might decide to add some pictures to each bullet later on once I have all the pictures I need.

Have you got any musings to share?

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Chinatown Horses

A couple weeks ago, on a bright Sunday afternoon, I decided to take a stroll around Kensington and Chinatown, as I so often do during the weekend. Sometimes, I walk around and look for good deals on things I want or need. Sometimes, tourists say hi and ask for directions. Secretly however, I'm actually doing what a lot of hopeless romantics do when they're bored: they wander the avenues and hope that their soulmate falls into their lap.

To be honest, I really don't expect this to happen. This is because I live in the big city and things like that don't happen in the big city. People are too conditioned not to pay too much attention to strangers in the street, which is a darn shame because I really think we can all learn so much everyday if we talk to someone new. But still I cling on to this false hope that never gets me anywhere. I know I should  try other methods to meet someone I can date and yet my mind holds on to this romanticism like a mad fool.

But I have tried other methods. After a friend of mine (Em., I'm looking at you!) suggested I sign up on Plenty of Fish, I reluctantly created an account and filled in the extensive personality tests (which were surprisingly accurate) and started my search on there.

Supposedly, the matchmaking system of PoF is crafted by "people with PhDs". And there are very interesting and attractive girls on there that I've been matched with based on how I answered my "chemistry" tests. The main problem I'm having - and this is pretty major - is that out of a total six messages I've sent to someone, I have received zero replies.

And these aren't "hi, how are you" messages; PoF says to send a detailed message, so I do.
And some of these people have indicated, based on their review of my profile, that they "want to meet me". But I send them a message, and I get no replies. How rude.

I honestly don't think my messages are too outlandish. In fact, I feel like they're probably better crafted than many other guys' "hey babe, u look hot".

I just want to let out a great big SIGH. Human relationships shouldn't be this difficult to create and maintain.

Before I leave you with this desperate blog post that will no doubt mull around in your head, here's something I bought in Chinatown. The key thing to note is that both images are of the same object. Neat!

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