I can't keep up with this parade comprised of smoke and mirrors. Filters as a euphemism for concealment to hide their imperfections. But frankly, I don't care the way you wear your hair one day to the next.
And the music that you're listening to, that you want to show, tell me, does it sound better when they see it?
The things you use to catch some eyes.
The bait you have to reel them in.
I don't mind.
You're not the same in real life, and you don't want to change.
So go ahead, and drink your drinks. Broadcast your discontents. It makes for the identity you wish to show. An apocalyptic fairytale. A tragic romance. They only care to see you fail, regardless of what the numbers show.
But here it is, a curtain call for all the weak souls. Come, now. Take a bow. The lighting on my stage will show you all for who you really are.
I'm sorry, but it's the truth.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
The Letter Series: Installation #1
I looked down at the deed that I done. Hunched over like ya hadn't slept for weeks.
You were smiling. Ya, that's right. There was that same goddamn grin ya always had. That grin showed ya had no idea 'bout the awful things goin' on in the world. That grin that showed ya had no idea what we was on the run from. Let me tell ya something. What we was running from was somethin' bigger than the both of us. I just got tired, Lennie. I couldn't keep runnin' from it.
You know what your problem was? You didn't know what was what. You could never tell when enough was enough. Goddamn there was many times when I shoulda pointed ya south, then tell ya I'll come back for ya. Let you go chase 'em rabbits. And I tried, Lennie. But you always came back to me. Why's it that the people we want to leave, stay? And the people we want to stay, go runnin'?
But I didn't leave. Ya, I didn't have the damn guts, Lennie. And that's why I pulled the trigger. Because I didn't have the damn guts. Shootin' a man don't take no guts. Trust me. I ain't no pansy, Lennie, but there ain't no shame in a man sayin' he has no guts. But there is shame in having no heart. And I had one. I know this because I felt pains in it when I looked in your eyes.
You said you wanted to live off the fatta the land, Lennie. But you couldn't live off no land. The lands of this world weren't made for you. I knew you wouldn't understand, so I pulled the trigger. I knew nobody would come lookin.
I'm foldin' this up and puttin' it in your pocket. When you get to where you are goin', read it. If ya don't understand a word, ask God for help.
I did this for you, Lennie. I did this so you could finally find those rabbits. And do things only because they feel good. I wish more people could do that.
Truly, George Milton
You were smiling. Ya, that's right. There was that same goddamn grin ya always had. That grin showed ya had no idea 'bout the awful things goin' on in the world. That grin that showed ya had no idea what we was on the run from. Let me tell ya something. What we was running from was somethin' bigger than the both of us. I just got tired, Lennie. I couldn't keep runnin' from it.
You know what your problem was? You didn't know what was what. You could never tell when enough was enough. Goddamn there was many times when I shoulda pointed ya south, then tell ya I'll come back for ya. Let you go chase 'em rabbits. And I tried, Lennie. But you always came back to me. Why's it that the people we want to leave, stay? And the people we want to stay, go runnin'?
But I didn't leave. Ya, I didn't have the damn guts, Lennie. And that's why I pulled the trigger. Because I didn't have the damn guts. Shootin' a man don't take no guts. Trust me. I ain't no pansy, Lennie, but there ain't no shame in a man sayin' he has no guts. But there is shame in having no heart. And I had one. I know this because I felt pains in it when I looked in your eyes.
You said you wanted to live off the fatta the land, Lennie. But you couldn't live off no land. The lands of this world weren't made for you. I knew you wouldn't understand, so I pulled the trigger. I knew nobody would come lookin.
I'm foldin' this up and puttin' it in your pocket. When you get to where you are goin', read it. If ya don't understand a word, ask God for help.
I did this for you, Lennie. I did this so you could finally find those rabbits. And do things only because they feel good. I wish more people could do that.
Truly, George Milton
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
New Project
I found some inspiration today. While looking through a thrifted JFK book of mine, I noticed a small, folded piece of paper stuck between the pages. Upon unfolding it, I discovered an anonymous fictional letter written by JFK post partem.
This got me thinking. I want to lend voices to fictional characters beyond their graves, or texts. What if Gatsby wrote a letter to Daisy after the car crash? What if George wrote Lenny a letter explaining his choice to put a bullet into his skull?
I'm going to start writing a series of such letters. I will share a few of them via Pretty Girls; however, maybe this could finally be something I stick to in terms of getting published. We shall see where this goes. The sparks are going.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Let the Wrong One In.
I said, "I'm tired of this city and the people inside it" as I fell to the ground and he was trying to hide it. Shaking and crying and embarrassing myself, wishing there was something that could help me in these shelves.
Moved to the big city, the 416. Everyone was pretty, and the boys were hip. Found a firecracker and lit him in my hand, exploded in my face but I don't give a damn. Locked him up and swallowed the key, he's happier now, forgeting about me.
Found some faces, from different places. Sent them less than three's and slept in their spaces.
GO tickets and texts, hoping for something better next. Man, I haven't meant those three words yet. But they don't seem to mind all that much.
Let the wrong one in, then board up the doors. I don't drink much but wonder if I should pour more. Buying wine to pass the time, letting the wrong ones get inside. Yeah, you're inside.
Expensive taste, contacts to erase. I swear there is something in the water here.
I died a little bit, and left you a little hint. Yeah, you know what I'm looking for. More, more, more, more.
Moved to the big city, the 416. Everyone was pretty, and the boys were hip. Found a firecracker and lit him in my hand, exploded in my face but I don't give a damn. Locked him up and swallowed the key, he's happier now, forgeting about me.
Found some faces, from different places. Sent them less than three's and slept in their spaces.
GO tickets and texts, hoping for something better next. Man, I haven't meant those three words yet. But they don't seem to mind all that much.
Let the wrong one in, then board up the doors. I don't drink much but wonder if I should pour more. Buying wine to pass the time, letting the wrong ones get inside. Yeah, you're inside.
Expensive taste, contacts to erase. I swear there is something in the water here.
I died a little bit, and left you a little hint. Yeah, you know what I'm looking for. More, more, more, more.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Character Sketch
Below is an excerpt of the last paragraph from a character sketch I did after reading Andrea Levy's novel, Small Island. I chose to write about the secondary character, Bernard Bligh. I recommend this novel to any reader.
What makes Bernard such a prolific character is that he is an embodiment of a post-colonial Britain, still reeling from the brutalization of bombing and deprivation. Just as England does not live up to its image of a mother land due to its loss of colonial power, Bernard does not live up to the conventions of what a man is supposed to be. There is an overwhelming sense of disillusionment in the novel, that the demoralized Bernard experiences. Just as he feels no attachment with himself, he no longer feels an attachment to his country or his family, which have transformed by the time of his return. To conclude, Levy does a fantastic job in showing this theme of disillusionment through every character, but with Bernard it is so engrained in his character that it even pertains to the writing style of his passages. Bernard’s chapters are not only exceptionally short, but they also come off as very mechanical with the use of short, stacattoed sentences. These passages demonstrate the lack of a human quality and reflect the fragments of what is left of Bernard. Bernard proves that all human beings are affected by the trauma they have experienced—some just have a more convincing façade than others.
What makes Bernard such a prolific character is that he is an embodiment of a post-colonial Britain, still reeling from the brutalization of bombing and deprivation. Just as England does not live up to its image of a mother land due to its loss of colonial power, Bernard does not live up to the conventions of what a man is supposed to be. There is an overwhelming sense of disillusionment in the novel, that the demoralized Bernard experiences. Just as he feels no attachment with himself, he no longer feels an attachment to his country or his family, which have transformed by the time of his return. To conclude, Levy does a fantastic job in showing this theme of disillusionment through every character, but with Bernard it is so engrained in his character that it even pertains to the writing style of his passages. Bernard’s chapters are not only exceptionally short, but they also come off as very mechanical with the use of short, stacattoed sentences. These passages demonstrate the lack of a human quality and reflect the fragments of what is left of Bernard. Bernard proves that all human beings are affected by the trauma they have experienced—some just have a more convincing façade than others.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Prime Real Estate
The homes I have abandoned have been bought at an all time low. Fixer-uppers with an appreciation value I couldnt see. They've settled in, decorated, and are paying off a mortgage that I started years ago.
What did I expect? That these structures would be foreclosed? Boarded up with the window smashed? No trespassing signs for curious children passing by? Yellowing grass and rusting metals?
It's a buyer's market and I don't want to die a renter.
What did I expect? That these structures would be foreclosed? Boarded up with the window smashed? No trespassing signs for curious children passing by? Yellowing grass and rusting metals?
It's a buyer's market and I don't want to die a renter.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Untitled.
And as the tide washes in and my feet sink in the sand, I realize it's only a matter of time before I will feel the world stand still. That's something worth waiting for. Tell me we are going to live forever. I no longer want to think that's more frightening than dying.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Investigative Piece: Behind the Veil
Behind The Veil is an investigative piece I wrote that looked at the topic of Muslim women and their sexuality. This continues to be something I am interested about and if anyone can suggest further readings or insights, contact me.
Whether or not people choose to admit it, we are often guilty of holding misconceptions about cultures that are different from our own. Although this is more understandable in a global context, in a community as diverse as McMaster there is little reason not to educate yourself about the cultural, social, and religious beliefs of the minorities on campus. That said, taking on the topic of Muslim women and sexuality still seemed like a daunting task for our annual Sex in the Steel City issue. Not knowing very much to begin with, I myself was guilty of making the assumption that Muslim students on campus would be hesitant to open up to me about the topics of the hijab, sexual taboos, and both marital and premarital sex. Quite simply, I was incorrect, but I have never been so glad to be wrong.
The first interview was perhaps the most informative, simply because there were so many questions to be asked. As a Vice President of the Muslim Students Association, Areej Shahbaz was eager to speak about the hijab, which literally means “curtain or cover” in Arabic. Described as a veil or head scarf used to cover a woman’s hair, Islamic scholars have given it the wider meaning of modesty, privacy, and morality. “I personally wear the hijab myself because I believe it is God’s command. Nobody is forcing me. I do believe God is commanding me, but it is my choice whether I follow that command or not,” explained Shahbaz. Shahbaz went on to explain that her mother does not wear it, and there is no point in someone wearing it if it is not for the right reason. Although there is a Western belief that elaborate dress or make-up will make you beautiful, Shahbaz explained to her, she feels most beautiful when wearing the hijab. “It makes me feel secure, safe, modest, and it lets me be myself without being judged from the outside. Every day I wear it, the more I feel that it is beautiful. I am realizing the beauty of actually wearing it.”
The idea that Muslim women who wear the hijab are oppressed is something that continues to be debated in women’s studies, however, once talking to Muslim women at McMaster who wear the hijab, it becomes clear that they do have their own choice when it comes to wearing the veil. As Shahbaz explained it, “Each woman has a different story, and in my story I feel more free when I wear the hijab.” This idea that wearing the hijab is actually liberating certainly pushes the boundaries of the misconceptions many people hold about Islam.
When it came to the topic of sex, it became clear that distinctions must be made about pre-marital and marital sex. Although pre-marital sex falls under the category of adultery in Islam, marital sex is something that is quite encouraged as it can be both pleasurable and spiritual. “What a lot of people don’t realize is that sex on its own is a blessing if you do it within the rules. It’s not taboo, and it’s allowed because you are supposed to be enjoying that with your spouse,” Shahbaz explained. That said, the Muslim women interviewed shared the belief that sex is still a private issue, and because it is something done behind closed doors it is understandable if some are hesitant to talk about it.
Equally as important as speaking to young Muslim women on campus who wear the hijab, is speaking to the ones who choose not to wear it. Active member or McMaster Muslims for Peace and Justice, Anisa Mirza, explained that for her, the hijab is one form of modesty that had its significance in the past, but does not personally believe that this is a law or rule with ritualistic meaning. “That is not to say I do not respect it, as people in my family choose to wear the hijab, but I believe there is more than one way to show modesty,” Mirza stated. Mirza went on to disagree with the idea that it is a measure of one’s faith, going as far as to say that she finds that quite offensive. “Judgment itself is a sin. There are women who believe it is compulsory to wear it, but who are they to judge me? It is a personal choice and only Allah can judge me.” To Mirza and many other Muslim women, the way you dress is not an indicator of your faith. “I have seen friends of people in the MSA with cleavage or mini skirts who are Muslim, and others who wear a full hijab. I have seen both as close friends. I do think it can become complicated.” Perhaps just as complicated is the topic of guys and girls being able to talk about sex. “There are many communities that are very open about talking about sex, but it is something that needs to be divided up between genders,” Mirza explained. “When talking with girlfriends, of course we are going to talk about the topic of sex, and your ideal guy, what you think is sexy.” When it comes to actually engaging in sexual activity, both Shahbaz and Mirza felt it would be difficult to find a Muslim woman who would admit to having pre-marital sex; however, it would not be fair to not call someone a Muslim because they were having sex. This would be going back to the notion of making judgments, and as Mirza explained, “[Sex] may be their weakness; I may have a different weakness. It is not about someone not being a Muslim, but they should want to try and be a better Muslim.”
A second year engineering student Asima* made a point to make it clear that Muslim girls are just like any others. “We talk about guys and sex—we are just not allowed to engage in sexual activity until after marriage. When we talk about it, we are talking about things that we are looking forward to in the future with our husbands.” Asima went on to say that it is something she personally looks forward to, and it is not always easy to abstain. This is likely felt by many Muslim women, as Asima revealed that she does know of some Muslim women who engage in pre-marital sex. Although she may not agree with it, she explained that, “It is important to see that there is no one voice, but rather an acceptance of many voices that makes up our Muslim community on campus.”
Before coming to such a diverse university, many of us may have had our own idea of who a Muslim woman was. Although there are some rules that everyone has to follow, what is important to take from this is that just like any other social group, there are several different identities within one community. While the fundamentals may be the same, interpretations vary, and not all perceptions of religion can be the same. Not all Muslim women will behave in one specific way, and most certainly, not all Muslim feel the same way about the hijab or sex.
Sarah El-Hamzawi
*Name withheld upon the request of the interviewee
Whether or not people choose to admit it, we are often guilty of holding misconceptions about cultures that are different from our own. Although this is more understandable in a global context, in a community as diverse as McMaster there is little reason not to educate yourself about the cultural, social, and religious beliefs of the minorities on campus. That said, taking on the topic of Muslim women and sexuality still seemed like a daunting task for our annual Sex in the Steel City issue. Not knowing very much to begin with, I myself was guilty of making the assumption that Muslim students on campus would be hesitant to open up to me about the topics of the hijab, sexual taboos, and both marital and premarital sex. Quite simply, I was incorrect, but I have never been so glad to be wrong.
The first interview was perhaps the most informative, simply because there were so many questions to be asked. As a Vice President of the Muslim Students Association, Areej Shahbaz was eager to speak about the hijab, which literally means “curtain or cover” in Arabic. Described as a veil or head scarf used to cover a woman’s hair, Islamic scholars have given it the wider meaning of modesty, privacy, and morality. “I personally wear the hijab myself because I believe it is God’s command. Nobody is forcing me. I do believe God is commanding me, but it is my choice whether I follow that command or not,” explained Shahbaz. Shahbaz went on to explain that her mother does not wear it, and there is no point in someone wearing it if it is not for the right reason. Although there is a Western belief that elaborate dress or make-up will make you beautiful, Shahbaz explained to her, she feels most beautiful when wearing the hijab. “It makes me feel secure, safe, modest, and it lets me be myself without being judged from the outside. Every day I wear it, the more I feel that it is beautiful. I am realizing the beauty of actually wearing it.”
The idea that Muslim women who wear the hijab are oppressed is something that continues to be debated in women’s studies, however, once talking to Muslim women at McMaster who wear the hijab, it becomes clear that they do have their own choice when it comes to wearing the veil. As Shahbaz explained it, “Each woman has a different story, and in my story I feel more free when I wear the hijab.” This idea that wearing the hijab is actually liberating certainly pushes the boundaries of the misconceptions many people hold about Islam.
When it came to the topic of sex, it became clear that distinctions must be made about pre-marital and marital sex. Although pre-marital sex falls under the category of adultery in Islam, marital sex is something that is quite encouraged as it can be both pleasurable and spiritual. “What a lot of people don’t realize is that sex on its own is a blessing if you do it within the rules. It’s not taboo, and it’s allowed because you are supposed to be enjoying that with your spouse,” Shahbaz explained. That said, the Muslim women interviewed shared the belief that sex is still a private issue, and because it is something done behind closed doors it is understandable if some are hesitant to talk about it.
Equally as important as speaking to young Muslim women on campus who wear the hijab, is speaking to the ones who choose not to wear it. Active member or McMaster Muslims for Peace and Justice, Anisa Mirza, explained that for her, the hijab is one form of modesty that had its significance in the past, but does not personally believe that this is a law or rule with ritualistic meaning. “That is not to say I do not respect it, as people in my family choose to wear the hijab, but I believe there is more than one way to show modesty,” Mirza stated. Mirza went on to disagree with the idea that it is a measure of one’s faith, going as far as to say that she finds that quite offensive. “Judgment itself is a sin. There are women who believe it is compulsory to wear it, but who are they to judge me? It is a personal choice and only Allah can judge me.” To Mirza and many other Muslim women, the way you dress is not an indicator of your faith. “I have seen friends of people in the MSA with cleavage or mini skirts who are Muslim, and others who wear a full hijab. I have seen both as close friends. I do think it can become complicated.” Perhaps just as complicated is the topic of guys and girls being able to talk about sex. “There are many communities that are very open about talking about sex, but it is something that needs to be divided up between genders,” Mirza explained. “When talking with girlfriends, of course we are going to talk about the topic of sex, and your ideal guy, what you think is sexy.” When it comes to actually engaging in sexual activity, both Shahbaz and Mirza felt it would be difficult to find a Muslim woman who would admit to having pre-marital sex; however, it would not be fair to not call someone a Muslim because they were having sex. This would be going back to the notion of making judgments, and as Mirza explained, “[Sex] may be their weakness; I may have a different weakness. It is not about someone not being a Muslim, but they should want to try and be a better Muslim.”
A second year engineering student Asima* made a point to make it clear that Muslim girls are just like any others. “We talk about guys and sex—we are just not allowed to engage in sexual activity until after marriage. When we talk about it, we are talking about things that we are looking forward to in the future with our husbands.” Asima went on to say that it is something she personally looks forward to, and it is not always easy to abstain. This is likely felt by many Muslim women, as Asima revealed that she does know of some Muslim women who engage in pre-marital sex. Although she may not agree with it, she explained that, “It is important to see that there is no one voice, but rather an acceptance of many voices that makes up our Muslim community on campus.”
Before coming to such a diverse university, many of us may have had our own idea of who a Muslim woman was. Although there are some rules that everyone has to follow, what is important to take from this is that just like any other social group, there are several different identities within one community. While the fundamentals may be the same, interpretations vary, and not all perceptions of religion can be the same. Not all Muslim women will behave in one specific way, and most certainly, not all Muslim feel the same way about the hijab or sex.
Sarah El-Hamzawi
*Name withheld upon the request of the interviewee
Monday, August 6, 2012
Flash back: The wedding speech I said at my sister's wedding.
"For those of you who don't know me, my name is Sarah and I am Jasmine’s sister of 23 years, and Paul’s sister of about…3 hours now. It truly amazes me how fast time flies when I look back on the years growing up with Jasmine. I remember our childhood together so vividly. From travelling with our dad, to elaborate birthday parties, to simply playing Barbies for hours and hours on end. I remember spending a lot of time together in the kitchen, where we would pretend we had our own cooking show. Jasmine was always the head chef, and I was the assistant. I can’t really say I did much except for the occasional stir or sprinkle of sugar, but let’s be honest Jazz, we both knew I was only good at licking the mixing bowl when we were done.
When I entered high school, Jasmine proved to be an awesome sister in other ways. As many of you may know, and my family will be the first to agree, I am something of what you would call a procrastinator. Near the end of grade 11 I was required to complete an Independent Study Unit for my World Issues Class. I was supposed to prepare both an essay and a presentation, and as usual, I put it off until the last day possible. The night before, I stayed up so late trying to finish it, that I ended up falling asleep. The next morning, I woke up and realized that I wasn’t anyone close to being finished. I made my way upstairs, gathered my courage, and knocked on Jasmine’s door. Doing my best to collect sympathy, I told Jasmine my situation, and told her this ISU was worth 30% of my mark. Being the ingenious girl that she was (and still is), Jasmine told me to find my teacher’s phone number. A few minutes later, my sister is on the phone with my teacher, explaining that I am violently throwing up as I have a severe case of food poisoning. Jazz, I owe you one!!
Perhaps the best testament of the bond Jasmine and I have built, is a now infamous story amongst my family. It may or may not even involve a certain guest here today. My family was on vacation in Florida with some nameless family friends (you know who you are). I would say I was about 9, and Jasmine was 13. We were all lounging at the hotel, and I decided to go for a swim. I was doing races in the pool, when things took a turn for the worse. After I beat my dad’s friend’s son (let’s just call him “Bobby”), I was savoring my victory when Bobby dunked my head under the water. Being a little bit of a drama queen, when I lifted my head up from the water I screamed and yelled at the top of my lungs. That’s when Jasmine sprang into action. She somehow ran out of the hotel room, saw me flailing my arms in the pool and warned Bobby to swim away and nobody would get hurt. Not reacting well to any form of authority, Bobby laughed maniacally and moved towards me again. That’s when Jasmine did the incredible. She backed up from the edge of the pool which I soon learned was because she wanted to get a running start. She sprinted to the edge, and karate kicked into the water, hitting Bobby dead on. I’m not sure if she really sensed danger, or if she just wanted to prove a point…but at that moment, I realized that Jasmine really has my back.
Joking aside, it truly is the best feeling to know that you have someone in your life that will always be there for you. You are more than just a sister to me. You’ve been like a mother to me when we were growing up, you’ve become like a best friend to me now that we are adults, and you’ll forever be a role-model and inspiration to me. Jasmine, I think that the quality I admire most about you is the fact that you will do anything for the people you care about.
Paul, I can assure you that Jasmine will be there for you no matter what, and she truly is the best person to have on your team. Not to mention, you can count on always having a spotless house and amazing home-cooked dinners!
That said, Jasmine, you are very lucky to have found a perfect man for you. Paul, I am so delighted to have you join our family, and I cannot think of a better person for Jasmine. You are patient, kind, understanding, and you are always there to lend your expertise. I am not sure what I would have done without your help this year living in Toronto. You have made sure I didn’t get lost on the TTC, and you spent hours trying to help me find a new apartment for next month. I cannot begin to thank you enough for all of this. I know we have only known each other for a couple years now, but I feel like we’ve become good friends during that time, and I can’t wait to continue that in the years to come.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank Heather and Kate, as well as Jan for being a fantastic bridal party. Planning the bridal shower with you ladies was a blast, and I’d say we made a great team.
So to you Jasmine and Paul: Congratulations on this beautiful marriage. Be friends to each other. Share each other’s hopes, and fill each other’s dreams. I love you both, and I am so happy to share this day with you."
When I entered high school, Jasmine proved to be an awesome sister in other ways. As many of you may know, and my family will be the first to agree, I am something of what you would call a procrastinator. Near the end of grade 11 I was required to complete an Independent Study Unit for my World Issues Class. I was supposed to prepare both an essay and a presentation, and as usual, I put it off until the last day possible. The night before, I stayed up so late trying to finish it, that I ended up falling asleep. The next morning, I woke up and realized that I wasn’t anyone close to being finished. I made my way upstairs, gathered my courage, and knocked on Jasmine’s door. Doing my best to collect sympathy, I told Jasmine my situation, and told her this ISU was worth 30% of my mark. Being the ingenious girl that she was (and still is), Jasmine told me to find my teacher’s phone number. A few minutes later, my sister is on the phone with my teacher, explaining that I am violently throwing up as I have a severe case of food poisoning. Jazz, I owe you one!!
Perhaps the best testament of the bond Jasmine and I have built, is a now infamous story amongst my family. It may or may not even involve a certain guest here today. My family was on vacation in Florida with some nameless family friends (you know who you are). I would say I was about 9, and Jasmine was 13. We were all lounging at the hotel, and I decided to go for a swim. I was doing races in the pool, when things took a turn for the worse. After I beat my dad’s friend’s son (let’s just call him “Bobby”), I was savoring my victory when Bobby dunked my head under the water. Being a little bit of a drama queen, when I lifted my head up from the water I screamed and yelled at the top of my lungs. That’s when Jasmine sprang into action. She somehow ran out of the hotel room, saw me flailing my arms in the pool and warned Bobby to swim away and nobody would get hurt. Not reacting well to any form of authority, Bobby laughed maniacally and moved towards me again. That’s when Jasmine did the incredible. She backed up from the edge of the pool which I soon learned was because she wanted to get a running start. She sprinted to the edge, and karate kicked into the water, hitting Bobby dead on. I’m not sure if she really sensed danger, or if she just wanted to prove a point…but at that moment, I realized that Jasmine really has my back.
Joking aside, it truly is the best feeling to know that you have someone in your life that will always be there for you. You are more than just a sister to me. You’ve been like a mother to me when we were growing up, you’ve become like a best friend to me now that we are adults, and you’ll forever be a role-model and inspiration to me. Jasmine, I think that the quality I admire most about you is the fact that you will do anything for the people you care about.
Paul, I can assure you that Jasmine will be there for you no matter what, and she truly is the best person to have on your team. Not to mention, you can count on always having a spotless house and amazing home-cooked dinners!
That said, Jasmine, you are very lucky to have found a perfect man for you. Paul, I am so delighted to have you join our family, and I cannot think of a better person for Jasmine. You are patient, kind, understanding, and you are always there to lend your expertise. I am not sure what I would have done without your help this year living in Toronto. You have made sure I didn’t get lost on the TTC, and you spent hours trying to help me find a new apartment for next month. I cannot begin to thank you enough for all of this. I know we have only known each other for a couple years now, but I feel like we’ve become good friends during that time, and I can’t wait to continue that in the years to come.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank Heather and Kate, as well as Jan for being a fantastic bridal party. Planning the bridal shower with you ladies was a blast, and I’d say we made a great team.
So to you Jasmine and Paul: Congratulations on this beautiful marriage. Be friends to each other. Share each other’s hopes, and fill each other’s dreams. I love you both, and I am so happy to share this day with you."
Friday, July 27, 2012
Come walk with me.
Damn. Your mix tapes were flawless. It's like Rob Gordon was your mentor. That's all I wanted you to know. I hope you're breathing well.
Don't read too into this.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Why Study Literature?
Apart from it being integral to our reading, writing, and oral skills development, studying English literature allows you to study people and culture. This can be demonstrated quite obviously through something like Shakespeare which is a direct reflection on society, but also through other literature that use language and allusion to inform the reader about a writer’s particular stance on any given issue. Studying English allows you to develop your abilities to form ideas and opinions on a given subject, which is a skill that will prove invaluable your entire life. Not only that, reading allows you to experience more than you ever could in one lifetime without reading. As great as we think our individual experiences are, they are still narrow and limited in their scope, and if we were to rely on them alone, we would become egocentric. Reading allows us to recognize that there is more to see, hear, and feel than we could ever imagine through the thoughts and experiences of unnumerable others, and this revelation is uplifting to those who continue to study English. To put it into a metaphor, English can be thought of as a tall mountain to climb. The further up you keep going, the greater your view becomes, extending your vision further and further to give a greater sense of proportion to you and the world. From up top, you realize that there is more than one individual’s emotions and experiences, and it brings great personal satisfaction to develop this larger vision. Although noboby may ever reach the peak of “the mountain of learning,” it is the act of climbing it which we benefit it from.
All metaphors aside, when you study English, you learn more about yourself as you can examine your own life experiences and relate to the text in a personal way. In addition, when you are asked to write or speak about what you have just read, it forces you to not only analyze the book, but to analyze why it is that you feel a particular way about it. The reason that we enjoy a book is usually because it resonates with us in a way that we oftentimes initially cannot describe. Whether it be a setting that reminds us of a place we grew up, or a character who reminds of someone we know (often being ourselves), a learner of English is constantly making connections between themselves and the text, which is a learning skill that is not so easily taught on its own.
On a more personal level, I continue to study English to ensure that I will never stop reading. Unknowingly, English becomes a deeper part of your life as it is not simply a passive, leisurely act, but something which you can become actively engaged in. For me, English was the one class that I got truly excited for. Each text, whether it be a novel or a play, took me on some kind of journey beyond the classroom, which I believe offers us all a sense of escapism from everyday life. Whether it be in your adolescence or adulthood, most of us can’t deny that we have felt like we wanted to be somewhere else—in a world of fantasy which still feels real to us. For me, reading could always take me where I wanted to be, and I will be forever thankful for that.
Unlike many subjects, literature is not something you forget when you walk out of the classroom or get your diploma. Instead, it acts as something which you can apply everyday, because whether it be consciously or subconsciously, studying English shapes who you are.
All metaphors aside, when you study English, you learn more about yourself as you can examine your own life experiences and relate to the text in a personal way. In addition, when you are asked to write or speak about what you have just read, it forces you to not only analyze the book, but to analyze why it is that you feel a particular way about it. The reason that we enjoy a book is usually because it resonates with us in a way that we oftentimes initially cannot describe. Whether it be a setting that reminds us of a place we grew up, or a character who reminds of someone we know (often being ourselves), a learner of English is constantly making connections between themselves and the text, which is a learning skill that is not so easily taught on its own.
On a more personal level, I continue to study English to ensure that I will never stop reading. Unknowingly, English becomes a deeper part of your life as it is not simply a passive, leisurely act, but something which you can become actively engaged in. For me, English was the one class that I got truly excited for. Each text, whether it be a novel or a play, took me on some kind of journey beyond the classroom, which I believe offers us all a sense of escapism from everyday life. Whether it be in your adolescence or adulthood, most of us can’t deny that we have felt like we wanted to be somewhere else—in a world of fantasy which still feels real to us. For me, reading could always take me where I wanted to be, and I will be forever thankful for that.
Unlike many subjects, literature is not something you forget when you walk out of the classroom or get your diploma. Instead, it acts as something which you can apply everyday, because whether it be consciously or subconsciously, studying English shapes who you are.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
You and Me
"I've been so down lately.
You've been so low lately.
Nothing seems to work out for you and me."
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Transcending Biology: A Look at the Human Cyborg
Here is an excerpt (first 3 paragraphs) of my essay:
Looking at the evolution of the ways in which we use technology, it is clear that we have come to a point where it is an enhancement of biology. In support of the use of science and technology to extend human mental and physical aptitudes, transhumanist thinkers wish to overcome disability, disease, aging, and involuntary death, while continuously pushing technologies’ development and potential. While it is obvious to see the benefits of enhancing our abilities and health,we must also be critical of the posthuman in its socio-economic implications. We live in a society that expects us to keep up, and if we continue progressing at this current rate, those who cannot keep up will be simply left behind. Those whose basic capacities radically exceed those of present humans will inevitably create a new standard which is unnattainable for many, thus allowing technology to define our future class structures. Just as technology can free us, if we do not have access to it or if we choose to protest its uses, then technology can oppress us too.
Before looking at the dangers that technological progression could potentially present for both our society and our economy, it is important to understand the development in the ways in which we use our technologies to enhance our bodies. Although it is now over ten years old, the ideas that Raymond Kurzweil discusses in “The Age of Spiritual Machines” are still relevant. The predictions that Kurzweil makes are eerily accurate, making his arguments far stronger today compared to when they were first published. In his text, Kurzweil uses examples of modern scientific advancements to show that our uses for technology are becoming more and more invasive. Arguing for its benefits to our physical being, Kurzweil explains that while technology started off as something that could fix what was wrong with us, it will eventually make us better than we were in the first place. While its initial challenge was to be as good as human and render itself invisible, new technologies are transcending the capabilities of our bodies. Using the example of our sense of sight, there is a clear lineation of progress. While glasses and contacts were introduced to fill a lack and improve our vision, we have come to a point where lazer eye surgery can be performed to enhance even the best 20/20 vision—an ability which we would have never thought could have been improved without a tool or device. Considering that technology is giving us “superhuman” abilities, there are bound to be several complexities and concerns about enhancing the human body to a point where it is “better” than before. Society's acceptance of new technologies is quickening exponentially, and there is a seemingly unstoppable penetration of technology into the “natural” human condition, which raises the concern of a widening gap between the biological and the robotic.
Going beyond the relationship of technology and or bodies, Kurtzweil seems most interested in studying the brain, which he believes “strikes closer to home,” as we identify more with our brains than with our bodies (121). Specifically, there is much to be said about the complex phenonmen of intelligence, and a human brain’s capacity with and without any form of enhancement. In his chapter “Building New Brains,” Kurtzweil begins by stating: “As we approach the computational ability to stimulate the human brain—we’re not quite there today, but we wll begin to be in a decade’s time” (120). Published in 1999, it is a decade later, and we are in fact here today. With recent developments of neural implants and scanning devices, we will soon have the capabilties to go inside someone’s mind, and discover the algorithms which determine the ways in which our brain processes information, similar to the ideas embodied in William Gibson’s 1984 novel, Neuromancer. According to Kurtzweil’s predictions of where technology is headed, he states that in the second half of the twenty-first century, there will be a growing trend toward making this leap. As Kurtzweil explains, “initially there will be partial porting—replacing aging memory circuits, extending pattern-recognition and reasoning circuits through neural implants” (126). Going even further, Kurtzweil speculates that well before the 21st century is completed, people will port their entire mind file, ultimately turning our brains into software that can outlast our bodies. As software, our mortality will no longer be dependent on the survival of the computing circuitry(129). Reviewed by Silicon.com, a website dedicated to driving business through technological advancement, the key to understanding Kurzweil's philosophy is what he calls “the law of accelerating returns.” This argues that technological change has an exponential not linear progression and thus information technologies which today seem to be inching forward slowly will actually reach a tipping point much faster than expected, and accelerate ever more rapidly thereafter, enabling disruptive change in the relatively near term (Lomas 1). Kurzweil argues that there will be no mortality, at least as we now know it, and just as we transfer files to new computers, we will be able to port ourselves to another hardware. There will still be hardware and bodies, but the essence of our identity will switch to the permanence of our software (Kurzweil 129). As we “port” ourselves, we are extending our capacities, increasing our computational abilties, creating a new mortality.
Looking at the evolution of the ways in which we use technology, it is clear that we have come to a point where it is an enhancement of biology. In support of the use of science and technology to extend human mental and physical aptitudes, transhumanist thinkers wish to overcome disability, disease, aging, and involuntary death, while continuously pushing technologies’ development and potential. While it is obvious to see the benefits of enhancing our abilities and health,we must also be critical of the posthuman in its socio-economic implications. We live in a society that expects us to keep up, and if we continue progressing at this current rate, those who cannot keep up will be simply left behind. Those whose basic capacities radically exceed those of present humans will inevitably create a new standard which is unnattainable for many, thus allowing technology to define our future class structures. Just as technology can free us, if we do not have access to it or if we choose to protest its uses, then technology can oppress us too.
Before looking at the dangers that technological progression could potentially present for both our society and our economy, it is important to understand the development in the ways in which we use our technologies to enhance our bodies. Although it is now over ten years old, the ideas that Raymond Kurzweil discusses in “The Age of Spiritual Machines” are still relevant. The predictions that Kurzweil makes are eerily accurate, making his arguments far stronger today compared to when they were first published. In his text, Kurzweil uses examples of modern scientific advancements to show that our uses for technology are becoming more and more invasive. Arguing for its benefits to our physical being, Kurzweil explains that while technology started off as something that could fix what was wrong with us, it will eventually make us better than we were in the first place. While its initial challenge was to be as good as human and render itself invisible, new technologies are transcending the capabilities of our bodies. Using the example of our sense of sight, there is a clear lineation of progress. While glasses and contacts were introduced to fill a lack and improve our vision, we have come to a point where lazer eye surgery can be performed to enhance even the best 20/20 vision—an ability which we would have never thought could have been improved without a tool or device. Considering that technology is giving us “superhuman” abilities, there are bound to be several complexities and concerns about enhancing the human body to a point where it is “better” than before. Society's acceptance of new technologies is quickening exponentially, and there is a seemingly unstoppable penetration of technology into the “natural” human condition, which raises the concern of a widening gap between the biological and the robotic.
Going beyond the relationship of technology and or bodies, Kurtzweil seems most interested in studying the brain, which he believes “strikes closer to home,” as we identify more with our brains than with our bodies (121). Specifically, there is much to be said about the complex phenonmen of intelligence, and a human brain’s capacity with and without any form of enhancement. In his chapter “Building New Brains,” Kurtzweil begins by stating: “As we approach the computational ability to stimulate the human brain—we’re not quite there today, but we wll begin to be in a decade’s time” (120). Published in 1999, it is a decade later, and we are in fact here today. With recent developments of neural implants and scanning devices, we will soon have the capabilties to go inside someone’s mind, and discover the algorithms which determine the ways in which our brain processes information, similar to the ideas embodied in William Gibson’s 1984 novel, Neuromancer. According to Kurtzweil’s predictions of where technology is headed, he states that in the second half of the twenty-first century, there will be a growing trend toward making this leap. As Kurtzweil explains, “initially there will be partial porting—replacing aging memory circuits, extending pattern-recognition and reasoning circuits through neural implants” (126). Going even further, Kurtzweil speculates that well before the 21st century is completed, people will port their entire mind file, ultimately turning our brains into software that can outlast our bodies. As software, our mortality will no longer be dependent on the survival of the computing circuitry(129). Reviewed by Silicon.com, a website dedicated to driving business through technological advancement, the key to understanding Kurzweil's philosophy is what he calls “the law of accelerating returns.” This argues that technological change has an exponential not linear progression and thus information technologies which today seem to be inching forward slowly will actually reach a tipping point much faster than expected, and accelerate ever more rapidly thereafter, enabling disruptive change in the relatively near term (Lomas 1). Kurzweil argues that there will be no mortality, at least as we now know it, and just as we transfer files to new computers, we will be able to port ourselves to another hardware. There will still be hardware and bodies, but the essence of our identity will switch to the permanence of our software (Kurzweil 129). As we “port” ourselves, we are extending our capacities, increasing our computational abilties, creating a new mortality.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Collide.
Sometimes it is hard living in a city filled with broken dreams and guarded hearts. Where identity has been fragmented to a point where we can't glue ourselves back together, and one is no longer sure who they are. A city where pastiche is trendy, and you can just call yourself eclectic. Tell yourself you're just multi-dimensional. Euphemisms for social media disorders that there isn't enough literature on. A city where vintage is always better, and you swear that all the marks and scratches you have simply add character and authenticity.
A city that I'm in love with, and loves me back unconditionally. Ain't that sweet?
Monday, May 28, 2012
25.
I've got affection to criticize, monogamy to abhor
A cold heart and an altered state of mind
and baby you're just what I'm looking for
Because we'll go to sleep when we're dead
and I'll quit when i'm 25
But now I'm feeling indestructible
aimlessly alive
Greedy minds think alike
Great artists, narcissistic
It seems like you fucked up down this road before
but you know me, I'm pessimistic
The elusive or the primitive divine
I'll go wherever it goes
Butterfly guts on the windshield
cigarette smoke out the window
I've got a mental image of the way you used to look at me
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a west coast heart and an east coast mentality
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a racing mind and enough gas to get to Tennessee
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a west coast heart and an east coast mentality
baby, lets push our limits tonight...
A cold heart and an altered state of mind
and baby you're just what I'm looking for
Because we'll go to sleep when we're dead
and I'll quit when i'm 25
But now I'm feeling indestructible
aimlessly alive
Greedy minds think alike
Great artists, narcissistic
It seems like you fucked up down this road before
but you know me, I'm pessimistic
The elusive or the primitive divine
I'll go wherever it goes
Butterfly guts on the windshield
cigarette smoke out the window
I've got a mental image of the way you used to look at me
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a west coast heart and an east coast mentality
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a racing mind and enough gas to get to Tennessee
Baby, lets push our limits
I've got a west coast heart and an east coast mentality
baby, lets push our limits tonight...
Monday, May 21, 2012
They don't love you like I love you
I would be lying if I said I didn't miss her at times. She reminds me of the summer and youth. Who doesn't want those things?
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Jumped Ship.
This is an editorial I wrote a few years ago when I worked for Andy, McMaster's arts magazine. Things have a strange way of working out.
I have lost a lot of friends in the past four years. No, I have not just become boring, or started devoting all my time to a boy, or work, or school. Instead, I have lost my friends to something cooler than I ever could be—Toronto. In order to better understand my plight, it must be noted that I have lived in Hamilton (well, Ancaster if you really must know) for all my life. If you were born at McMaster Medical, and now are ultmimately studying here, chances are you have grown a bit of an attachment to this city. For me, while I had the chance to go to university anywhere else, something about this place kept me here. Although I knew I had to get out of the small bubble of Ancaster as much as I could, I could not help but love downtown Hamilton. Going to McMaster has brought me closer to the parts of the city I love most, and I don’t regret this decision one bit. It was this choice of staying in Hamilton which made me grow closer and closer to my surroundings, not to mention all the hidden gems I have discovered along the way. With this in mind, my choice to go to McMaster only seemed natural.
So where does the problem come in? If staying in Hamilton is what I wanted, then why do I feel like I am more alone than ever? The answer is less than one hour away, and the fact is, Toronto has become a metaphorical vacuum for kids trying to escape the horrors of Hamilton, Burlington, and Oakville’s suburbia. The is vacuum has sucked up 75% of my friends and counting, and the worst part is, Toronto isn’t a vacuum with a bag you can empty out, revealing your long lost friends merely covered in dust; it is a central vac, where people get sucked into a black abyss and are unlikely to be seen again. Maybe it’s because most people get rid of their cars before moving to the city, it seems inevitable that as soon as a friend says they are moving downtown, you will likely seem them once a month, with a steady decrease to about once year.
While some do this before college, others wait until they get their degrees, and then abandon the city that housed them, educated them, and entertained them for four or more years. It seems like the youth of Hamilton have a love em’ and leave em’ mentality when it comes to this city, and I can do nothing but watch as my friends slip through the cracks of my hands like sand.
Although I may be saddened when people leave, when looking at this scenario a little more objectively, it becomes clear that moving to Toronto does more than just leave your family and friends a little bit more lonely. Specifically, the amount of educated young adults who leave Hamilton are doing next to nothing for our city’s dwindling job market. I mean, it’s not a really complicated concept: Kid goes school, kid gets diploma, and kid jumps on the GO train, wide-eyed, with dreams of owning one of those Lakeshore Lofts one day. Sadly, this leaves Hamilton with one less able person who can contribute to our economy. Before you know it, the numbers start piling up, and King Street East becomes a symbol of Hamilton’s failing entrepreneurialship.
The whole thing is mildly depressing, as I already know that more than half of the people I like on this campus are just going to be leaving in a year or so to pursue “bigger" things in Toronto. In the end, I am left with a question. Do I leave Hamilton and start a life of greater opportunities? Or do I stay in this place due to my own stubborness and try to prove a point about how great this city is. Hamilton has so much character and culture in a Springsteen, blue collar blues kind of way, but it’s difficult to hold your ground when you are constantly in the shadow of a bigger, more popular brother.
I guess the question I want to know is should you jump off a ship while it is sinking? Or ride it down to the bottom of the sea?
I have lost a lot of friends in the past four years. No, I have not just become boring, or started devoting all my time to a boy, or work, or school. Instead, I have lost my friends to something cooler than I ever could be—Toronto. In order to better understand my plight, it must be noted that I have lived in Hamilton (well, Ancaster if you really must know) for all my life. If you were born at McMaster Medical, and now are ultmimately studying here, chances are you have grown a bit of an attachment to this city. For me, while I had the chance to go to university anywhere else, something about this place kept me here. Although I knew I had to get out of the small bubble of Ancaster as much as I could, I could not help but love downtown Hamilton. Going to McMaster has brought me closer to the parts of the city I love most, and I don’t regret this decision one bit. It was this choice of staying in Hamilton which made me grow closer and closer to my surroundings, not to mention all the hidden gems I have discovered along the way. With this in mind, my choice to go to McMaster only seemed natural.
So where does the problem come in? If staying in Hamilton is what I wanted, then why do I feel like I am more alone than ever? The answer is less than one hour away, and the fact is, Toronto has become a metaphorical vacuum for kids trying to escape the horrors of Hamilton, Burlington, and Oakville’s suburbia. The is vacuum has sucked up 75% of my friends and counting, and the worst part is, Toronto isn’t a vacuum with a bag you can empty out, revealing your long lost friends merely covered in dust; it is a central vac, where people get sucked into a black abyss and are unlikely to be seen again. Maybe it’s because most people get rid of their cars before moving to the city, it seems inevitable that as soon as a friend says they are moving downtown, you will likely seem them once a month, with a steady decrease to about once year.
While some do this before college, others wait until they get their degrees, and then abandon the city that housed them, educated them, and entertained them for four or more years. It seems like the youth of Hamilton have a love em’ and leave em’ mentality when it comes to this city, and I can do nothing but watch as my friends slip through the cracks of my hands like sand.
Although I may be saddened when people leave, when looking at this scenario a little more objectively, it becomes clear that moving to Toronto does more than just leave your family and friends a little bit more lonely. Specifically, the amount of educated young adults who leave Hamilton are doing next to nothing for our city’s dwindling job market. I mean, it’s not a really complicated concept: Kid goes school, kid gets diploma, and kid jumps on the GO train, wide-eyed, with dreams of owning one of those Lakeshore Lofts one day. Sadly, this leaves Hamilton with one less able person who can contribute to our economy. Before you know it, the numbers start piling up, and King Street East becomes a symbol of Hamilton’s failing entrepreneurialship.
The whole thing is mildly depressing, as I already know that more than half of the people I like on this campus are just going to be leaving in a year or so to pursue “bigger" things in Toronto. In the end, I am left with a question. Do I leave Hamilton and start a life of greater opportunities? Or do I stay in this place due to my own stubborness and try to prove a point about how great this city is. Hamilton has so much character and culture in a Springsteen, blue collar blues kind of way, but it’s difficult to hold your ground when you are constantly in the shadow of a bigger, more popular brother.
I guess the question I want to know is should you jump off a ship while it is sinking? Or ride it down to the bottom of the sea?
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Tired eyes.
All the pretty girls in this city have tired eyes. Overworked and overplayed.
You love the chase until it catches up with you.
Keep running from the underdog; one is always right on your tail.
You love the chase until it catches up with you.
Keep running from the underdog; one is always right on your tail.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Play
When I was growing I had a fascination with death.
I would play with the neighbours 3 houses down the street. They were sisters from an ultra Christian household. Their mom was pretty crazy, and their dad acted much older than he was. Their house was the oldest house on the street and was branded a historical site. I guess we should have thought that would make ample grounds for imaginative play, but we generally met up at my house. I now realize this was simply to avoid their mother.
I was fortunate enough to live in front of a conservation area. This meant that the landscape extended around my house. I suppose my house IS in a conservation area, and the residential additions were essentially renting space from it.
On the property line of my backyard and the Italian neighbours who we'd swear were in the mafia, there was an above ground sewer tunnel. You know, one of those big pipes that water run off came through. The sisters and I would scale down the hill and stand beside the pipe, fascinated by the pond it had started.
One time, we saw what looked to be a cat...or maybe raccoon bundled up in a matted, wet ball beside the pond. The sighting was the most exciting thing we discovered in our 20 home neighbourhood. After we had concluded it was in fact, dead, we immediately wanted to know what it is was. It's tail was long, thin, and tapered. There was no hair on it, and I wasn't sure if it had fallen off, or if it just never had any. It appeared to be scaly.
"It's an armadillo," the eldest sister stated. I'd never seen an armadillo (likely because they are primarily found in Central America), but this unidentifiable form needed a classification. I think we all knew it was more likely a possum, but an armadillo had way more mystique. We stuck with it. We had found an armadillo—washed up and weathered beside the run-off pond.
I wish I could say it just stopped there, but this is the moment where I realize my affixation with post-life. I grabbed a long, broken tree branch. I paused. The girls looked at me. It took every ounce of courage I had to extend the branch, and poke the carcass. I touched it. Then gaining courage, I slid the branch underneath it and rolled it over.
That’s when it all became real. It was once alive, whatever the hell it was. But now it’s dead. Death never seems real when you are young. It’s intangible. Something you are told happens, but you don’t even give it a second thought.
It’s something I realized I had no control over, but watching it was captivating.
I’d go back to the spot every so often, until the fur and flesh and worn away. Until the mass was merely a stack of bones.
I would play with the neighbours 3 houses down the street. They were sisters from an ultra Christian household. Their mom was pretty crazy, and their dad acted much older than he was. Their house was the oldest house on the street and was branded a historical site. I guess we should have thought that would make ample grounds for imaginative play, but we generally met up at my house. I now realize this was simply to avoid their mother.
I was fortunate enough to live in front of a conservation area. This meant that the landscape extended around my house. I suppose my house IS in a conservation area, and the residential additions were essentially renting space from it.
On the property line of my backyard and the Italian neighbours who we'd swear were in the mafia, there was an above ground sewer tunnel. You know, one of those big pipes that water run off came through. The sisters and I would scale down the hill and stand beside the pipe, fascinated by the pond it had started.
One time, we saw what looked to be a cat...or maybe raccoon bundled up in a matted, wet ball beside the pond. The sighting was the most exciting thing we discovered in our 20 home neighbourhood. After we had concluded it was in fact, dead, we immediately wanted to know what it is was. It's tail was long, thin, and tapered. There was no hair on it, and I wasn't sure if it had fallen off, or if it just never had any. It appeared to be scaly.
"It's an armadillo," the eldest sister stated. I'd never seen an armadillo (likely because they are primarily found in Central America), but this unidentifiable form needed a classification. I think we all knew it was more likely a possum, but an armadillo had way more mystique. We stuck with it. We had found an armadillo—washed up and weathered beside the run-off pond.
I wish I could say it just stopped there, but this is the moment where I realize my affixation with post-life. I grabbed a long, broken tree branch. I paused. The girls looked at me. It took every ounce of courage I had to extend the branch, and poke the carcass. I touched it. Then gaining courage, I slid the branch underneath it and rolled it over.
That’s when it all became real. It was once alive, whatever the hell it was. But now it’s dead. Death never seems real when you are young. It’s intangible. Something you are told happens, but you don’t even give it a second thought.
It’s something I realized I had no control over, but watching it was captivating.
I’d go back to the spot every so often, until the fur and flesh and worn away. Until the mass was merely a stack of bones.
Monday, March 5, 2012
American Dreams
The most beautiful love stories are not without obstacles.
The most inspiring success stories are built from failures.
The most moving art is inspired from sadness.
The tallest buildings were once rubble.
The world always loves the underdog, the comeback kid, the little engine that could.
And for these reasons, I'm terrified of privilege.
The most inspiring success stories are built from failures.
The most moving art is inspired from sadness.
The tallest buildings were once rubble.
The world always loves the underdog, the comeback kid, the little engine that could.
And for these reasons, I'm terrified of privilege.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
What Makes a Superhero: A Discussion
Currently doing a mini unit on "Heroes" in my grade 9 class, and although we're looking at the theme at a pretty superficial level, it got me thinking: Why is this such an engaging theme? Why is it taught? Why does it infiltrate the silverscreen? And why are scholars ever so fascinated by the idea of being a super human? Below is an academic discussion I've developed.
____________________________________________________
If we look up "(super)hero" in a dictionary, we will find something along the lines of, "A figure, especially in a comic strip or cartoon, endowed with superhuman powers and usually portrayed as fighting evil or crime."
Let’s break that down. I think we can accept the first part of the definition being a “figure,” although we should still acknowledge the few exceptions who are composed of more than one figure such as Marvel’s Multiple Man, who makes copies of himself, or DC’s Firestorm, where two people combine to make one single hero. But as a general rule, a superhero is a singular individual.
Let's keep moving on to "endowed with superhuman powers." Here we hit a major point of contestion because the list of superheroes who have no superhuman powers is lengthy. Batman, Robin, Iron Man, Green Arrow, the Black Knight, Hawkeye, and many others, all have no superhuman powers. They do all make use of extraordinary equipment to varying degrees, but for many of the characters, the only thing seperating them from the average person is their access to technology. If we strip away the costumes and secret identities, for some of these characters, we simply have ordinary humans who use truly extraordinary devices to do superhuman feats.
Still, it is hard to say that superheroes aren't defined by having abilities beyond those of ordinary humans. It might be extreme levels of training, or high-tech device, or the study of magic, but they certainly have the ability to do things no normal human is able to. If we consider this, we would have to change the definition from "endowed with superhuman powers" to "having abilities, either inborn or through external influence, that are greater than those of ordinary humans."
The final part of the definition, refers to fighting evil or crime, which is also a bit problematic as more than just superheroes do this. While superheros are interested in the betterment of society, one could argue that so are policemen, firefighters, and doctors. The only difference from a superhero and a hero is the prefix “super” which can be something which is attained through technology.
Taking the example of Iron Man, this seems to be a character who made a conscious choice to become a superhuman rather than being born with a power like Superman. Using his skills in engineering and weapon manufacturing, Tony Stark's self-constructed suit is what makes him able to do things like flying and lifting large objects. If you take Tony Stark out of his armor, you are left with an individual who is certainly not endowed with superhuman powers, but why do we still consider him a superhero?
One argument is that we value technology as post-human, allowing us to do things that a human could never do. Characters like Batman and Iron Man embody this notion, as both can be likened to cyborgs because each of them has been enhanced by technology. Lastly, there seems to be something more to our definition of a superhero. There is both a mysticism and moral code connected to this definition that makes them naturally know what is the “right” thing to do. For many superhero purists, being a superhero means holding yourself to a higher standard than a human as they never take the easy choice. Even though superheroes don’t have to fight evil, it is almost inevitable that they will choose to do so.
A superhero is a symbol that represents the ideal. He is our hopes and aspirations, those qualities we admire in ourselves and in others as well. The superhero is not perfect; he is burdened with greater troubles than ours, and is time and again defeated by the evil he sets himself against. Yet it is because of this, not in spite of it, that he is truly a hero; not because he is strong, but because he does not surrender.
____________________________________________________
If we look up "(super)hero" in a dictionary, we will find something along the lines of, "A figure, especially in a comic strip or cartoon, endowed with superhuman powers and usually portrayed as fighting evil or crime."
Let’s break that down. I think we can accept the first part of the definition being a “figure,” although we should still acknowledge the few exceptions who are composed of more than one figure such as Marvel’s Multiple Man, who makes copies of himself, or DC’s Firestorm, where two people combine to make one single hero. But as a general rule, a superhero is a singular individual.
Let's keep moving on to "endowed with superhuman powers." Here we hit a major point of contestion because the list of superheroes who have no superhuman powers is lengthy. Batman, Robin, Iron Man, Green Arrow, the Black Knight, Hawkeye, and many others, all have no superhuman powers. They do all make use of extraordinary equipment to varying degrees, but for many of the characters, the only thing seperating them from the average person is their access to technology. If we strip away the costumes and secret identities, for some of these characters, we simply have ordinary humans who use truly extraordinary devices to do superhuman feats.
Still, it is hard to say that superheroes aren't defined by having abilities beyond those of ordinary humans. It might be extreme levels of training, or high-tech device, or the study of magic, but they certainly have the ability to do things no normal human is able to. If we consider this, we would have to change the definition from "endowed with superhuman powers" to "having abilities, either inborn or through external influence, that are greater than those of ordinary humans."
The final part of the definition, refers to fighting evil or crime, which is also a bit problematic as more than just superheroes do this. While superheros are interested in the betterment of society, one could argue that so are policemen, firefighters, and doctors. The only difference from a superhero and a hero is the prefix “super” which can be something which is attained through technology.
Taking the example of Iron Man, this seems to be a character who made a conscious choice to become a superhuman rather than being born with a power like Superman. Using his skills in engineering and weapon manufacturing, Tony Stark's self-constructed suit is what makes him able to do things like flying and lifting large objects. If you take Tony Stark out of his armor, you are left with an individual who is certainly not endowed with superhuman powers, but why do we still consider him a superhero?
One argument is that we value technology as post-human, allowing us to do things that a human could never do. Characters like Batman and Iron Man embody this notion, as both can be likened to cyborgs because each of them has been enhanced by technology. Lastly, there seems to be something more to our definition of a superhero. There is both a mysticism and moral code connected to this definition that makes them naturally know what is the “right” thing to do. For many superhero purists, being a superhero means holding yourself to a higher standard than a human as they never take the easy choice. Even though superheroes don’t have to fight evil, it is almost inevitable that they will choose to do so.
A superhero is a symbol that represents the ideal. He is our hopes and aspirations, those qualities we admire in ourselves and in others as well. The superhero is not perfect; he is burdened with greater troubles than ours, and is time and again defeated by the evil he sets himself against. Yet it is because of this, not in spite of it, that he is truly a hero; not because he is strong, but because he does not surrender.
Sample of my essay entitled, "Colouring Outside of the Lines"
20 page essay. Here are the first two paragraphs...
It is widely understood that globalization has affected the sociological conception of identity. The process of identification, through which we project ourselves into our cultural identities, is becoming more subjective, variable, and ultimately, problematic. The subject, previously experienced as having a unified and stable identity, has become fragmented, as it is composed of not a single, but of several unresolved identities. This change has produced what Stuart Hall calls the “postmodern subject,” conceptualized as having an essentialized, or fixed identity (2006). Despite this shift in identification, there is still a practice of defining race and ethnicity as permanent, impermeable categories. Having a single, fixed identity is a fantasy, as race is not literally imprinted in our genes. That said, there remains an intrinsic need to identify ourselves as part of a greater social network, and this is asserted by the Canadian government and dominant members of society (Scruton 1986). Identity thus stitches the subject into the structure, stabilizing both subjects and the cultural worlds they inhabit, making both reciprocally more unified and predictable.
Despite the ideals of liberal multiculturism which aim to encourage individual choices of identity, race continues to be formed and transformed within a system of cultural representations. Although citizens know what it is to be a Canadian according to our social policies, calling oneself “Canadian” is still not accepted as a way to define one’s racial identity. There is a false sense of security in Canada’s multiculturalism policies, as the dominant group continues to have the power to define what constitutes a subordinate group using physical and social features as justifications. A complex issue arises, however, when an individual does not “fit” within one of the pre-set categories of race. There are an overwhelming number of Canadians who identify as a “mix,” or hybrid of ancestries, and they find themselves struggling to find their place in society. Looking specifically at the precariousness of mixed races within Canada, it is clear to see that there is an ongoing struggle to find a frame of reference if you do not fall within the boundaries of racial categories. Exemplified by those who claim to be multi-racial, cultural identity in Canada is far more complex and problematic than what our multicultural utopia implies.
It is widely understood that globalization has affected the sociological conception of identity. The process of identification, through which we project ourselves into our cultural identities, is becoming more subjective, variable, and ultimately, problematic. The subject, previously experienced as having a unified and stable identity, has become fragmented, as it is composed of not a single, but of several unresolved identities. This change has produced what Stuart Hall calls the “postmodern subject,” conceptualized as having an essentialized, or fixed identity (2006). Despite this shift in identification, there is still a practice of defining race and ethnicity as permanent, impermeable categories. Having a single, fixed identity is a fantasy, as race is not literally imprinted in our genes. That said, there remains an intrinsic need to identify ourselves as part of a greater social network, and this is asserted by the Canadian government and dominant members of society (Scruton 1986). Identity thus stitches the subject into the structure, stabilizing both subjects and the cultural worlds they inhabit, making both reciprocally more unified and predictable.
Despite the ideals of liberal multiculturism which aim to encourage individual choices of identity, race continues to be formed and transformed within a system of cultural representations. Although citizens know what it is to be a Canadian according to our social policies, calling oneself “Canadian” is still not accepted as a way to define one’s racial identity. There is a false sense of security in Canada’s multiculturalism policies, as the dominant group continues to have the power to define what constitutes a subordinate group using physical and social features as justifications. A complex issue arises, however, when an individual does not “fit” within one of the pre-set categories of race. There are an overwhelming number of Canadians who identify as a “mix,” or hybrid of ancestries, and they find themselves struggling to find their place in society. Looking specifically at the precariousness of mixed races within Canada, it is clear to see that there is an ongoing struggle to find a frame of reference if you do not fall within the boundaries of racial categories. Exemplified by those who claim to be multi-racial, cultural identity in Canada is far more complex and problematic than what our multicultural utopia implies.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Bones.
I gave him the key this morning and it felt good not to worry about him finding any skeletons.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
All the Single Ladies - The Atlantic
What a fantastic piece. I have not read an article that has given me a post-read shiver in quite a while. This took courage to write, and I think it needs to be shared. THIS is journalism.
"When Gloria Steinem said, in the 1970s, “We’re becoming the men we wanted to marry,” I doubt even she realized the prescience of her words...."
To read, please click the link below!
All the Single Ladies - The Atlantic
"When Gloria Steinem said, in the 1970s, “We’re becoming the men we wanted to marry,” I doubt even she realized the prescience of her words...."
To read, please click the link below!
All the Single Ladies - The Atlantic
Friday, January 27, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Cougar
He had to sit beside her on the way there. She bought him drink after drink, and his presence made her feel younger. She looked aching to touch his strong, wide shoulders, and he had just enough of a beard for her to toy with the idea that his age was suitable.
And on the way home, here she goes again. Her hair is stiff with hair spray and gel. The kind of hair that always looks wet. She nurses her warm Corona that has been poured into a plastic cup that the airport has safety approved. She leans over towards him as close as she can. She inhales and her body inflates. She is thriving off his testosterone. This time he doesn't seem to be getting anything out of it. Maybe it is because I'm watching.
Sad life.
And on the way home, here she goes again. Her hair is stiff with hair spray and gel. The kind of hair that always looks wet. She nurses her warm Corona that has been poured into a plastic cup that the airport has safety approved. She leans over towards him as close as she can. She inhales and her body inflates. She is thriving off his testosterone. This time he doesn't seem to be getting anything out of it. Maybe it is because I'm watching.
Sad life.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Believe in.
He believed my lies, but doesn't believe the truths. I just don't believe anything but you.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Try and break me.
When the door slammed in my face it is as if it went through me. Knocked me to my senses. I almost stumbled. I waited at the bus stop and worried that it would take too long. I worried that something would pull me back.
The bus came in 8 minutes, but it felt like less. I got a seat, and looked out the window. When I first caught my reflection I was surprised that I was smiling. I may have been laughing at it all. I may have been thinking of what is to come. I may have been floating with all the weight I had left behind.
I drank too much. I paid too little. I remembered who made me feel good. I forgot what made me feel awful. The walk from the bar was where I faultered, but I bet you were surprised you couldn't break me down this time. I made some good choices last night. I know I could have made worse ones, in many ways.
This is how it is meant to be, and I'm breathing well.
The bus came in 8 minutes, but it felt like less. I got a seat, and looked out the window. When I first caught my reflection I was surprised that I was smiling. I may have been laughing at it all. I may have been thinking of what is to come. I may have been floating with all the weight I had left behind.
I drank too much. I paid too little. I remembered who made me feel good. I forgot what made me feel awful. The walk from the bar was where I faultered, but I bet you were surprised you couldn't break me down this time. I made some good choices last night. I know I could have made worse ones, in many ways.
This is how it is meant to be, and I'm breathing well.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Quotable
He asked me how his quotations could become "quotable." I told him a pretty bleak answer. "You have to die," I said with my best dry tone. This was one of the few times I was asked something, and my answer wasn't objected. He chuckled, and we both romanticized our own deaths. This was the last moment of substance we may have had.
What a great question, sir. But why ask something when you knew the answer already?
What a great question, sir. But why ask something when you knew the answer already?
Warmth
That was the best sleep I have had in months. I am wide awake. I walked down the hallway and found the bathroom. I took a look at my body. I took a look at my face. Before going back I had to write this.
I have never felt so beautiful.
I have never felt so beautiful.
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