Amusing Ourselves to Death

     My present way to spend free time at home: the TV on while having interspersed conversations with my housemates; my lap top open beside me checking out factoids related to what I’m watching ( I usually have about 6 – 10 browsers open); Facebook and Skype open so messages and IM’s are coming through, and my cell, old faithful, bleeping out texts and calls at any given moment . Seriously, I’m not fully invested in any one thing I’m doing because there’s so many options at once. Now first things first, I do like constant access to information, but I do remember life being simpler. The present day subdivide of attention has me wondering whether present technologies are creating a new variant of attention deficient disorder?

    The reality is it’s getting harder to do solitary things when you’re never really by yourself. Growing up outside of the city without cable we had three channels. I talked to one person at a time in person or on the phone.  My attention was directed to the moment.  Now the possibility is always present to contact or be contacted by someone else that isn’t there. I blogged sometime ago about the change of hostels and the travel culture because of lap tops and Facebook, now that effect is even more prevalent. (link:  http://iwasjustthinkingsomething.blogspot.com/2011/05/changing-face-of-travel.html) For a brief recap,  I mentioned that travelers were choosing to communicate with people back home rather than engaging with other people right there in the hostel.  Outside of travel that phenomenon is happening more often when people get together socially. Ever notice how people react when a lap top is around? Usually at one time or another during an evening everyone will make their way to the laptop at least once, maybe more, to check messages. That's not even commenting on smart phones. People seem held away from in person connection by pseudo conversations with people not present.

    2011 definitely was a hall mark year in terms of information dissemination. This was the year when the internet and social media led to the overhaul of many repressive Middle Eastern governments. These were meteoric events and filled my heart with pride at the possibility of overcoming top -down repression.  Never has there been a time when more information was available at our finger tips. The world is opening up to us and changing because of this accessibility. However, the inquiring mind must at least wonder if the information available is becoming somewhat trite do to the sheer amount? If there are mountains of potential information to sift through then what is the barometer for uncovering whether that information is important? Instant information availability is becoming another entertainment commodity and is having the effect of defocusing our attention...  Ten years ago, I remember siphoning through the same 80 channels again and again when I was bored – like a never ending Sisyphean circle. Now sometimes I find myself siphoning down a Facebook news feed only to do it again minutes later, or checking web sites for content updates that haven’t arrived yet... the phenomena is similar to aimless channel surfing.

    We’ve stepped into the ultimate sound bite information age. Previously whole books were digested to expand ones view of reality now it’s so much more common to collect internet factoids. Information is gathered by checking something quick on Wikipedia, IMDB, or seeing how people’s lives are from their Facebook page. To steal one of cultural theorist Neal Postman’s catch phrases – “Are we amusing ourselves to Death”? When are you focused on doing any one thing when there are quick information fixes that could pull you away from that task? One sound bite of information is in battle against the next. Surely, I’m not alone when I feel that pull? I read fewer books now then I use to and sometimes even have trouble watching a full movie or program without checking something else in the middle. My attention feels subdivided between two to three trivial things and held at arm’s length from the moment. That is what I see as my new type of ADD; an inability to focus on any one strand of information when others are so immediately accessible. 

The Dreamer's Disease

      I just watched John Hughes “Sixteen candles” again the other day. Despite being a person who’s reputed to be just into serious, dramatic films, I’ve always had a soft spot for the 80’s teen comedies too. Who wouldn’t like the fairy tale notion that just by completely loving a person, probably who seems unattainable, they will love you right back? So what if in reality John Hughes movies probably offer a blue print for disaster. The fantasies still fun...

 

    Here’s a lightening quick plot run down for those that haven’t seen it.  Really cute, though not “hot”, girl next door type Samantha turns 16 and is in love with the most popular guy in school Jake. Despite all his friends being douche bags and Jake dating the hottest and most popular girl in school he secretly is a nice guy. The story unravels with lots of great politically incorrect humour (for those that have seen it, who doesn’t love Long Duck Dong? )  and of course, spoiler alert, Samantha’s prayers are answered. Jake loves her too... despite only realizing she existed that day after inadvertently seeing a note saying she wanted to lose her virginity to him.

  

   Okay, so time to just think about it all a bit. Why a blue print for disaster? Well this for starters. The western world is a marketplace for all commodities and what bigger commodity than love? Relationships, especially the bad ones, often are a bit like commodity exchanges. People promote themselves, play up their best attributes then try to sell to the highest bidder.  Sadly people can, and do..., abuse the purity of unhindered, naive love rather than celebrate it. Really, it’s not uncommon that a person who has just been broken up with might use someone who is absolutely doting on them to get their swagger back. It’s like emotional vampireism - drink up another person’s confidence and apply it towards what one “really” wants. This often works in a chain. Suck the confidence of someone below you to apply it to someone above you. While the person above does the same thing and there you have a cycle of people looking higher then looking lower, and repeating... If you go into that "game" unprepared, or John Hughes' deluded, you could end up pretty jaded. 

   There is irony at play when you think of the stars of John Hughes' films and even Hughes himself. Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Anthony Michael Hall, Ally Sheedy... they all got branded as the “brat pack” then type cast and their careers all died unfair deaths. The same happened to John Hughes himself. After SO much 80’s success his style didn’t translate to the glibber 90’s and he became a recluse. In a way Hughes had to face reality and not the fantasies he had got rich selling. Still though, such great laughs and heart warming conclusions. Maybe some people got tarnished a little by the dreams he tried to sell, me included..., but they were fun dreams. And personally, I’ll never fault a dreamer.    

Flirting with Toronto

      There has to be something said for the feeling of being home. You know that sensation... understanding how things work, how people will react to you, and being one of the people that can actually claim to be from a place. The last ten years, I have made a life of being the foreign guy; being the guy that learns about a new place and molds myself to it. With that said there is a certain comfort in being back in Toronto. I know things. I know the faux pas and how to get a smile; I know what everything costs in the stores and in social relations; I know the people...  If I say Stephen Harper or Rob Ford is a twat everyone will know what I mean. We all have a shared narrative in common.

      I took my chances travel wise: I went for it, and then I went for it again, then again... I had to see what it was like away from where I’m from and I have. Now the time is for me to take the accumulated wealth of my travels and forge it into something tangible here. The more I think about it Toronto is an ideal base of operations. It’s BIG, but you can get around; it’s cosmopolitan, but not so much that you feel like a stranger in your own city; people are aloof, but hey if you have your own doses of sarcasm and self defacing ironic candour to peddle what else would you want; people are competitive, but they always are in big cities where cool stuff is happening. All in all Toronto has a lot more positives than negatives, with the most overwhelming positive being that I can actually stay. They aren’t going to kick me out in 12 months and there’s comfort in that.

    Does that mean my travel days are over? Not by a long shot, however the days of just having a backpack and being able to leave with 20 minutes prep time might be. People might see it as insane, but I had that flexibility for the last ten years. I got more in me then being defined by my one dominant moniker: “traveler”. The time has come, now that I like the place I am, that I’m going to nest a bit. Maybe I’ll even do what a few years ago I would have been blasphemous to the travelers’ pathos and buy an actual bed, a couch, and a few amenities – maybe a plant... why not, right?  

    Truth is I’m still not a Canadian with a capital C. My life style choices have made me a touch incognito in my own country. There have been nights out back here in Toronto where girls thought I was from Europe. Milk it right...??? Probably should, but I don’t lie to them, I just say that I’m an Alberta guy (though I wish I could lie about that... :P )  that has been around a lot and that a mixed accent is what happens when you REALLY travel a lot. They like it... and it’s just the truth. I guess, it allows me to be slightly foreign even though I know this place well, which is kind of cool in its way.

     I figure the greatest challenge of all is re-definition of oneself.  I won’t give up my lust for difference and the unknown. However, I need to apply its vigour towards a different medium now - building my life here. Having a holistic life of good friends, having a comfortable place international friends can stay when they visit, a job - or better yet a career - I like, and hopefully at some point a relationship are where my new challenges lie.  Adventure can be where you are, if you allow it.  I’ll go as far as my ingenuity will allow. The hope is that after being a dark horse for such a long time that I can finally grasp my "poetential" and be the phoenix that rises from the ashes. I will build a quality life for myself one brick at a time. 

Castle's in the Sky

    I’ve been in London an extra week. In a scuzzy library right now with no Wifi... waiting for my mate to finish work. I have a collection of bags with me; an amount of luggage that a friend pointed out with gleeful sarcasm: “was surprisingly little.” Honestly though, just like when I started travelling 11 years back, I hold what I need with me. Most of what I have is stored in my heart and my mind. So many experiences have accumulated; so much more than my little backpack could hope to hold.

  

    Many people say the reason they don’t travel is fear of the unknown. For me it was always the opposite. My greatest fear is the known – the routine. When other people see stability and comfort I see prison like bars staring back at me. I’m terrified of being subjugated to the same required daily action. The idea of relationships formed over time that could actually chain me into one single, expected way of presenting myself makes me tremble. I was never good with expectations or conforming myself. I've had an issue with committing myself to a definite plan, or person - maybe that's why at this point I still don't have a career and I'm single. Maybe it’s time I start seeing the best of the other side? I have to admit that the fool is the one that hold their ideas to tight to their chest without challenge. The ultimate sin for someone “claiming” to be open minded is making the abstract dogmatic and real. Even this present trip was in large part to get beyond something that happened in Edmonton. For as long as I can remember I have avoided the uncertainties in my life by itching my travel addiction.

    I have yet to meet a person that didn’t on occasion need to be jarred out of their own thinking. On this, the eve before I fly to Toronto, I'm holding a wrestling match with my own flock of golden geese... those limiting ideas that I’ve made real. Whereas before maybe I felt fear and an uncertainty of whether I could stand firm against the competition and the uncertainties of life – now I feel defiant. I had tricked myself out of trying by being contemptuous of those that strived for success. I pretended that not trying was evidence of a courageous, artistic spirit that turned its back on the capitalist mantra of competition instead of what it was - a buffoonish, self fulfilling prophecy of failure. I will not be held away from my own destiny based on the residue of thoughts that were non adaptive; thoughts that were built from the seedlings of personal neurosis. I will try, and if I fail, I will try again...

    I need to employ that Danish/Dutch honed openness I profess to have. I need to stretch myself and be open to different ways of life and know intrinsically that though I may accept stability in position, I still will not stop being open and seeking others like me. My friends are the ones that have allowed me to grow. They were the ones that nodded in approval when I was my best, most open self, and gently, but yet firmly enough, let me know I was descending into the murk of selfishness and ego. No amount of money, status, or power will ever come close to the love I feel for those people who have, and will, stand by me. All they ask in return is what I give easily - that I do the same for them.

    Previously, I felt that the only path to success in life was the singular one. A path that would open up like Moses parting the seas; a path not so much found but just followed without issue or obstruction. Maybe that’s what saw me hold on to my own biases so tightly. The detours and discomforts are where the growth takes place. I want to grow still, I want to learn....  Sometimes life and the expectations we put on it will trick us, those expectations become our own castles in the sky, they pervert what we see till everything is just a reflection of those perversions. Above that though, the pure spirit; the idealistic spirit; the resolute spirit will always stand its ground and push back. For those us willing to fight it, life will never hold us down it will make us stronger and more resilient... not to do such however is to cower away from the splendor of what could be. 

A Success Story

     Recently I was Facebook chatting with an Australian friend. He told me that in four years from now he could be making 400 grand a year as a business consultant, but he doesn’t care... he wants to give it up. Another friend from London was in the same position last year and also walked away from the lure of big money.  Some people would call them fools, they both admitted to me people have done just that, but personally I see something valiant in their position.  They want to live authentically for themselves.

      Really, success... WTF is it anyway?   I’ve met more than a few people who wanted to enjoy the status and the power often associated with having money. People often are envious to those with money and grant a shocking level of deference.The question each person needs to consider though is to what level are you willing to compete for that power?... as competition is more brutal and unscrupulous the higher ones ambition is. An interesting juxtaposition comes when people who thrive off that competition meet their opposite: open minded artists, travelers, and dreamers. All of sudden what they deem success doesn't apply, it’s no longer what one has but rather who one is; relationships are no longer hierarchical and based on power, but rather equalitarian and based on intellectual and emotional connection. The divergence of aim is often why these character types dislike one another. So what if from societal pressure you began one pursuit only to realize it was the other variant that you were more connected with?  That was the issue my friend was having...

     

    Other topics arose as well, we also discussed what we felt we should try to do in the future. Both of us had the same issue with making a definite decision for what to strive for in such a vast world of possibility.  When complete possibility is there, the dreamers’ mind can soar... Maybe it soars under the wings of pretence, but it soars none the less. In contrast, when a direction is chosen, as my friend had felt he had done, artistic impertinence rears its ugly head and stands affront to the plan questioning every aspect of it. In some cases this is the engine that drives an artist to never give up on their real dream... in others it destroys their life. If you prick holes in every plan, the possibility looms of doing nothing. Finding the balance between these two contending realities has been the most difficult balancing act of my own life.   

        
   When you are a questioner to things around you; you can’t just turn that quality off when it suits you. To some walking away from a golden ticket for your future is crazy, but the thing is if it isn't making you happy then what’s the use of that money anyway? Being true to who you are inside... is the only real vehicle to happiness. The biggest sham going is living a different internal life from what one presents outwardly. Schools seem to channel people to conform, at least in my school experience, even if it doesn't fit them inside and I think that leads to situations like my friend detailed. He felt, he had to pursue the money. I have to quantify this all if the competition is for you, and you have special skills for it that’s fine if it’s what you want. BUT – to my friends that walked away from the competition to be who they are... it’s a commendable thing, and though others would never be able to grasp it, I tip my hat to them. 

The Pursuit of it

     Watched a movie last week called “Blue Valentine” that really got me thinking. The story, in a nutshell, is – Ryan Gossling’s character Dean sees Michelle Williams character Cindy and immediately, by his own account, falls in love with her at first sight. He pursues her, the way a man REALLY in love would: relentlessly and genuinely. She is overwhelmed by his effort and falls for him. Fast forward 7 years later into their marriage, a daughter in tow, and the relationship is breaking down. An infamous scenario has ensued, at least from the male point of view, the guy is still desperately in love with the girl, like he always was... like he always will be, but she has fallen out of love with him. This, in a world where a million and one douche bags enjoy massive success praying on female insecurity, to me was a cinematic example of a modern day tragedy. The story is told in two alternating time frames; 7 years into the relationship and the beginning.  Please excuse a few minor spoilers.

     Now, I’m always trying to understand people better and my first impression after watching this film was that Cindy was a bitch who gave up on a good guy. Some more thinking and the help of reading some female reviews of the film have modified that view point.  Dean envisioned something inside of Cindy and used his attraction to mould her in his mind as the perfect woman. For those of us that have felt love before, it not only allows you to only see the best in the other person - it kind of forces you to.  Every joke is funny, every comment so witty, the other person’s appearance - which to others might be just alright - is breathtaking. That was Dean... consumed by his girl in that way most girls dream of being wanted.  A problem...?????... but how? Here’s how. By being consummately in love he lost track of who Cindy was... he held her as his ideal not a real, evolving person.  Invariable it  would be this factor that would drive her away.

   The character of Cindy from her first appearance has a detached ere. Something isn’t right in her family and because of that she’s able to disappear inside of herself and her dreams of a future away from her small Pennsylvania town existence. Dean’s love for her when they first meet was so explosive and true she can’t help but being taken aback. He’s putting himself out there for her in ways that her reserved nature could never imagine. She’s overwhelmed and succumbs to it – happily, willingly succumbs. Maybe in her eyes he could be the escape she covets. Maybe she thought that he would apply the energy he had for pursuing her towards their life together as well. Seven years later life has taken hold and what she cannot shake is the fact that for him loving her and their daughter is enough. He’s not interested in pursuing success and “life” – he has what he wants. She`s sees larger, wishes for more... wishes to strive. He hasn`t given the escape she longed for... She’s changed, grown jaded, and he has remained exactly the same.

    I couldn`t help but watch this film, the opposite to any of the romantic comedies, and feel effected. What bothered me was the thought not even love can sustain a relationship... if not that, what is it then?... just an exchange of services and expectations between two partners? More questions, if love holds one from seeing the way a person really is – then can it be a good barometer for entering marriage? If you’re love blinded will you wake up sometime later to ask yourself who the fuck is this person? Then again though, if there isn’t love then what would be the point? As usual so many questions not enough answers– it´s good to see a movie that is willing to look at the complexity of love and relationships rather than peddle Hollywood romantic drivel. For anyone that hasn’t seen this film I give it a strong recommendation. In the end for me, I’m skeptical of the concept of “love” – but maybe it’s my own neurosis that I still have to believe in it.

Graduation Day

“I’ve got a funny story from when I was young.”

   I was looking across the table at Erin, a girl that I had been out with a few times previously. She was looking so cute and earnest in her black plastic frame glasses. I was nervous. I definitely wanted to impress her. My game plan had been to play up my mature side, but who was I kidding. I could tell from her eager smile she wanted to see me play the fool one more time - like I do so well…  

  
    I gave her a serious look straight in her eyes as I began. “I don’t really remember this story completely. Great start to a story right? My mom has filled in many of the details. As for the rest, I’ll just exaggerate.” I winked at her and smiled.

   “I was about 4 years old, a precocious little guy really. I wanted to match anything my big brother did. If he had it - I wanted it. I even wanted to be the same age as him. My brother was seven so I use to tell everyone I was seven as well. I guess I looked up to the dude... either that or I wanted ALL the attention for myself.”
   
      I shrugged my shoulders and looked down meekly, grinning a little as I continued. “So… we were in the car on our way home. My brother was beaming. We had been at his graduation, his kindergarten graduation that is. And for his efforts, he was given one black cardboard hat. All the new grads had one. They all had special hats. And I didn’t! I could see that Erin was smiling.


“Must have been quite the hat!?” she said.


     “Oh you bet it was! It was like a crown to me. It was his pride and joy… Somehow I had believed that to wear it would surely make me an older boy. I wanted to be ready for finger painting and connect the dots like he was, I needed its power… The entire ride home, I pestered him asking again and again to let me wear it! He kept saying - no.”

     “To this day I hate to hear no when I really want something. So you can imagine how I was when I was four...? So anyway, after pleading to my mom unsuccessfully to make him let me wear it - I hatched a more devious plan!” I looked over at Erin her attention was now undivided.
   

   “When we got out of the car, I made my dirty move. I was quick like a cheetah as I snatched the hat off his head and sped around the corner of our house - my little legs moving like the road runners... “

Erin laughed: “You little scoundrel.”
   

   “Oh that isn’t the end just yet. I would be a liar if I said I actually remembered where I went…” I let my lips droop and looked down in my best innocent little boy look as I continued. “When I finally did come back with the hat my mom was angry. She told me to give it back IMMEDIATLY! I didn't complain at all, I just handed it back. There was one little surprise to be discovered though... ” 

“What is it, what happened next?” Erin asked. Her voice slightly pitched.
  

 I waited a second taking a lingering drink from my beer, then another.

“Come on Dave, what is it? What did you do?”

   Not really being able hide my growing grin my words came out. “Well let’s just say that the hat was tested to see how well it could resist water. I ran around the house with my brother’s pride and joy hat and took a wizz in it. Then I handed it back to him filled to the brim with four year old pee.”


“You did that…? “ she blurted out fighting off a laugh at the same time.


“Yep I did, but don’t worry it doesn’t mean I still wet the bed.” My face turned a little red as I realized - so much for looking mature.