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February 06, 2009 07:46 +0000  |  Environment Family Friends Self Reflection Suburbia Why I'm Here Women Work [at] Play 14

People have been sending these my way for days now and the activity seemed so very contrary to my usual behaviour, that I thought that I'd give it a shot. I'm not going to "tag" anyone to do this though since this is my blog and not bloody Facebook, but if you want to share your own, you can post it or link to your own post here in the comments.

Here's the deal. This is a list of 25 random things about me. They're personal, so if you want to know more about me, this might be a scary place to start, but it's your call:

  1. I am a very private person. This may come as a surprise to someone who doesn't know me, as I do after all maintain a blog and all kinds of online profiles. Look carefully though and you'll realise that there's nothing all that personal about me anywhere. I don't share. I'm going to try to make this post an exception.
  2. I'm happy to listen to others though. People like to talk to me -- gods know why. I like to think that I'm a pretty good listener and that my lectures are often helpful.
  3. I never used to care about the environment. In fact, when I moved to Ontario, it was the furthest thing from my mind. It wasn't until I realised that so many people still burned coal to make electricity that I got involved.
  4. As part of a seventh grade public speaking exercise, I wrote a speech titled "Why Does Everyone Talk About Saving the Environment, but No One Does Anything About It?" (or something to that effect). I was then voted as the one to give the speech in front of the whole school. I was so terrified that I skipped a complete paragraph from my cue cards.
  5. I was, and still am, terrified at the prospect of public speaking. In recent years, I've actively combated this fear by repeatedly putting myself in situations where I must speak publicly in one form or another. It's working.
  6. I don't try to save the world out of guilt, or a feeling of responsibility. I do what I do purely out of a sense of principle: I honestly believe that there is a Right way and Wrong way to interact with this planet, and I fight to ensure the former. As Mark Twain said: "Always do right. This will gratify some and astonish the rest".
  7. I am seriously afraid that I will waste away here in Vancouver. Most days I feel as if any ambition I had was left behind in Toronto.
  8. It is because of this fear that I've avoided doing things "for me" in the past like joining a choir. I've always felt like I have a responsibility to act on the aforementioned principles and forgo my own wants until those goals are achieved, but the hollowness and lack of purpose I've felt since returning have caused me to consider some selfish options. I still feel that this is a mistake, but I don't know what else to do.
  9. I love my job. I love the work, the fact that it's constantly challenging and that I'm being given the power/responsibility to write some really fucking awesome code.
  10. I often burn 90% of my work day spinning my mental wheels trying to get my brain out of its funk. I believe this to be related to my poor diet and sleeping schedule... at least I hope that's the case.
  11. I'm so afraid of what it might be if it's not diet or rest that I won't talk to a doctor about it.
  12. I'm constantly concerning myself with others' impressions of me. Alone, at home working on my computer, walking down the street, writing a blog, or deputing at City Hall, the question of how my words may be construed 20years from now is a serious concern to me.
  13. I often catch myself reliving or daydreaming about past or potential future conversations. What was / could've been said, or what will be / should be said, and the rebuttals for each. These conversations sometimes cross over from the mental space into real out-loud annunciations for my part of the exchange -- though this is usually only at home as I'm getting ready for work.
  14. I've developed deep emotional attachments to a number of people scattered around the world. These feelings aren't romantic, but rather almost familial and definitely protective.
  15. I think that my unwillingness to share is likely directly connected to my inability to commit emotionally to someone. Either that or I just haven't met the right girl yet.
  16. My childhood was really quite horrible. My family was wonderful, but my school life in Langley has probably damaged me permanently. Don't raise your kids in the suburbs folks, it doesn't do anyone any good.
  17. My single bastion of sanity in high school was choir practise with Mr. Thompson and Mr. Rahn. They gave me something into which I could pour myself at a time when all I wanted was shut the whole world out. Had it not been for Thompson Tran, the guy who dragged me into choir in the first place, I think that I would be a very different person today.
  18. My parents actively discouraged me from taking music, art, shop, or drama classes in high school. I was told that such activities were for the dumb kids and that I, as a smart person shouldn't waste my time with them. I'm not bitter about this, it's just unfortunate that I missed such an opportunity for a creative outlet for so many years.
  19. I honestly do think that I'm really fucking smart about a lot of things. I don't care if this makes me appear arrogant, condescending or superior. The way I figure it, so long as I'm open to the possibility that someone out there is smarter than I am and I embrace their opinions when I meet them, then it's all good.
  20. I'm attracted to people who are smarter than I am, or have an understanding of the universe drastically different from my own.
  21. I have an image in my head of the girl I'm supposed to be with. I've had dreams about her for years. In these dreams she has long, straight, brown hair and wears a long, stretchy, cotton grey dress. She sings and plays guitar. I am aware that harbouring a fantasy image of a non-existent mate is counter-productive and I don't care.
  22. I'm sometimes frustrated by the maintenance a friendship requires. My feelings toward people don't change with the distance between us or the time between our visits, yet many of my friends seem to think otherwise and try to reconnect repeatedly. I don't begrudge them this, but it's also really hard to make time for everyone as well as myself.
  23. I vividly remember dozens of instances where I've been wrong about something. In all of these cases, I've been sure and was later proven ignorant. This is a serious concern for me so I usually use non-committal fragments in my sentences to assure my position as a non-authority on a topic... Unless I think that I am an authority, at which point any mistakes haunt me permanently.
  24. I cannot tolerate being called "stupid". It's a trigger word for me. I'm alright with naive or ignorant, though these words do flare me up a bit -- usually enough to get me to ask question after question until I'm no longer worthy of either word.
  25. I use the regret model for my decision making: I imagine how I would feel looking back on a situation 20years later and then decide to go with the option that I would likely lead to the least regret.

January 26, 2009 19:44 +0000  |  Stupid People Suburbia 6

You may have already heard, or you may just have seen it, but for those who don't know what I'm talking about, I'm sporting a brand new shiner today. That's right, I've got a black eye -- though strictly speaking there's nothing all that black about it. It's more of a purplish red, and it's not so much a whole "eye" as it's a long ugly line under my left eye accompanying a scratch on my nose and a swollen temple and jaw.

Now, in an effort to save myself from the long list of repetitive Q&A sessions, I'm just going to recount it all here. In fact, if you ask me about in person, I'll just redirect you here or even make up a more exotic story since I'm already tired of re-telling the whole thing.

Now, to begin: Langley is a shithole. Yep, that's an excellent start to all of this.

So after work on Friday, I headed out to the aforementioned shithole by way of SkyTrain and then the 502 bus from Surrey Central to Langley Centre. As I approached the heavily fogged-in bus loop, I called Chris to let him know that I'd be there in five and then hopped off when we pulled in.

Not seeing Chris yet (turns out, he was in the parking lot, wondering where I was), I walked out toward the street corner where I was passed by a couple of really hyper, giggly girls running toward the bus. One of them chucked an empty chip bag into the air and I (in a friendly way) slowed them down with "hey there, you just tossed your garbage in the street". "I don't care!" she yelled and continued down the street with her friend. I leaned down, picked up the bag and tossed it into the can (3ft away) and in a similarly friendly tone yelled "fuck you too!" -- I felt it only appropriate, but clearly, not the smartest move in a near deserted bus stop in a shithole town swallowed by fog.

I then continued onto the corner where I waited a few minutes and was soon re-approached by the same coked-out girls. The litterbug was irate with my choice of language, despite her own consistent use of it. She began slapping, kicking, the typical flailing coked-out girl stuff. Then she grabbed my $300 glasses, bending them and yelling at me so I grabbed them back. No, I didn't hit her, but in her messed up little head, my pushing her away and grabbing my glasses constituted as such. She and her friend then started yelling about how I'd hit her etc.

Enter the equally coked-out roid-monkey boyfriends. "Fucking Langley" I mumbled to myself. Much punching ensued, no amount of reasoning on my part was working, not that expected it to. For my part, I didn't fight back and instead opted to spend most of my time trying to block and insist that I'd not hit anyone. My thinking being that presently, they were taking turns punching me in the face, but if I landed even one good punch I'd be facing both of them, along with whatever other fabulous new joys awaited me in the fog.

Chris had decided to start driving around in the soup looking for me as he couldn't find me in the parking lot, and pulled up just in time to see them leaving -- they'd decided that they'd done enough damage. Thankfully, Chris hadn't seen the whole incident (or the blood on my face due to the dark in the car) or he'd most likely have wanted to go back and return the favour. Instead, I had to ask him if he had anything with which to clean myself up in his car as I was dripping on my jacket, and at that point, too much time had passed to be able to find them again.

At the time, I chose not to call the police because, as messed up as it may sound, I didn't want the run the risk that they'd believe the crazy chick when she insists that I hit her. With the kinds of things I want to do with my life, a record for assault and battery didn't seem like a good idea. Looking back on it all now though, I regret not calling them at the time because it's likely that I was not their last target for the evening. It's too late now though, I couldn't describe them any better than "coked out fuckers" if I wanted to.

In retrospect, I keep going over the whole incident in my mind thinking about what I could have done differently. Like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure novels, I see myself asking for the return of my glasses, or punching out one of the guys, or more importantly, not yelling (even nicely) at the girls int he first place. I honestly don't see how it could have gone any differently though. Sure, it's possible that had I said nothing, I would have avoided all of this mess, and that probably would have been the better option, but it's just as likely that these kids, fuct out of their trees as they were, would have attacked me for any other reason. However in future, while I won't stop yelling at people who litter, I will be more discerning with my selection of who is worthy of a good bitch-out.

For the rest of my stay in Shithole, Chris and Trish were really kind. They ordered pizza and Chris even endured Mama Mia for my sake (sorry Mom, not as good as I'd hoped). They helped patch me up and drove me to King George station in the morning. So yeah. Langley is a horrible, horrible place, but the friends I have there are awesome.

May 25, 2008 19:07 +0000  |  Environment Friends Self Reflection Suburbia 13

Lately, I've come to dread my weekends, which is odd, because I'm so very busy during the week, but nonetheless it's happening. It took me a while to deduce from where this sense of desperation was coming, but it finally donned on me: it's the suburbs.

I don't think that I can accurately explain my discomfort with suburbia. Sure, it's completely wasteful and unsustainable, but my political reaons for hating that way of life are separate. No, it's the... emptiness. Standing in a field of parked cars in blistering heat, surrounded by pickup trucks and SUVs all humming along with their heat-generating A/C units. The acres of big box stores, parking lots and big box stores, all separated by pointless little medians and mock "nature" in the form of a tree in a concrete box or a wood bench facing yet another parking stall. It makes my nerves itch just thinking about it.

I've been out to the suburbs (yes, that includes Kelowna) every weekend without exception for at least 5 weeks now. Obviously, it's not out of a sense of masochism, but rather because I have friends out there. I guess, part of me secretly hoped that they'd all get the hell out of Langley and Surrey before I returned from Toronto and that I wouldn't have to endure a personal hell just to be with them, but it would seem that Fate is a sadist: rather than leave, they've entrenched themselves.

Jeanie and Ruth have moved into a pretty house in White Rock, and Chris and Trish have bought a house out in Langley. Quinn and Michelle seem to like it there and my parents moved to Kelowna because of the lifestyle. The truth is though, I don't begrudge any of them for their choices. They've chosen that life for themselves and barring the inevitable major financial collapse hinging on oil scarcity, they'll probably continue to enjoy it for years to come. I just hate having to go there to see them -- and by hate, I mean hate. The mere thought breeds contempt in my veins, I get bitter just boarding the Skytrain.

It's probably all a mix of the horrible memories I have of that place and my knowledge of the socio-economic-environmental implications of such a lifestyle that does this, but knowing this doesn't make it any better. I miss my friends. I'll continue to see them. But I just need to vent.

I hate it so much.

Edit: 2008-05-28

It's been brought to my attention that this post might be construed as bitterness toward my friends for making me come out to the burbs all the time without them making the same sacrifice for me. Nothing could be further from the truth. Chris Rhodes and Trish especially have made the trip on many occasions and I've appreciated the visit every time. This post was, more than anything, about how much I hate the suburbs.