Snow Day

     Snow day! I was up at 6 am, a bit early to try to shovel the drive way better so my car wouldn’t get stuck on the way to work. It got stuck after ten feet. Two hours of shovelling, trying to drive, then shovelling again I managed to get back to the garage! So now after the trials and tribulations of the morning I realized I wasn’t going to work.  In honesty I feel a bit bored and isolated; I’ve started thinking about life unhindered and the concept of my last blog - living one’s life authentically as if it were art. In these thoughts the champion of that pathos, and one of my personal heroes, Ken Kessey immediately came to mind.

      Lots of travelers idolize Jack Kerouac for his stream of consciousness writing, but Ken Kessey, the author of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”, has always been my guy. Not only was Ken a writer of superior imagination and talent, OFOTCN is one of the quintessential novels of the individual standing up to society, but he was also an individual who was unashamed to live life with pure authenticity.  His wild experiences during the 1960’s were chronicled in the classic of new Journalism “The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe. (A book along with OFOTCN I recommend to anyone to read in succession)Never one to preach how to live specifically, his only rule was to live unhindered by society or the media and to be true to yourself. What I took from him was the idea to be myself no matter what and to live each day with passion.  Though I often may not succeed at those ideals they stand above me as my own personal idols in the sky.

      Back in 2000 I wanted to escape the forces of vanity, materialism and most importantly external expectations so I went traveling. Of course, it was somewhat a flight of fancy to believe those forces would disappear once I stepped on a plane, but life abroad was mainly about establishing relationships, unhindered conversation, and new experience. Fast forward to 2011 – the snow day – with the spirit of Kessey above me, I can feel the compulsion to try to live this way again. To step away from the reality I am in and return to Europe once more. I still do want to weigh my actions with thoughts for the future, but really I just want to live. I’ve felt so restrained, snowed in if you will, for too long.

Perfectly Imperfect

     While I was at work doing my menial, boring job I got to thinking about what is it that makes a person like someone else? Often people think of others in terms of specific traits. When I was younger, like many I suspect, I judged people in terms of absolutely positive attributes. I’d see people as intelligent, pretty, outgoing, etc. etc... and generally take a positive view of people who had traits that I held highly. However, time and experience has come to show me that without the negative - positive can’t exist. If a person was fully graced with positive traits than what could stand out from the rest, what would define them? They’d seem plastic and unreal.  Really it’s the flaws that make people interesting.

     Considering that last comment deeper...   every person sees things different and has different distortions of self and reality. I love people that are willing to show that inherent uniqueness; people who aren’t afraid to be different. By doing this they highlight their flaws, they show everybody that this is me and this is how I see the world.  The converse of that is the person that actively tries to be like everyone else. Where’s the audacity in that? To me beauty shines forth when a person presents their truth for all to see. In those moments they become as if a prism for reality allowing it to shine through them in a unique translucence.  A person who lives this way lives art and in a way is art. For me that effort is guaranteed to get my respect and admiration.

The Gamble

     Time to hit the gym, buy that fresh top, and feed myself positive affirmations to build up my game: you’re the man, woman are powerless to you, blah, blah, blah.... Such is being single as a guy in this day and age. Since our culture generally still puts the onus on men for approaching woman a large aspect of being successful at it is building up both the mind set and the strategy for attracting woman. A lot of it has to do with the image one puts forth.  At the end of the day it can feel a little like crafting yourself into a product for consumption and acting...

    In North America being blasé is king when meeting girls. The key is never show too much too quickly, or ever allow yourself to show to much attraction. Romance in the new millennium is like a poker game where one’s hand must be hidden till it’s ready to be laid down. Showing interest then pulling that interest back is a regular strategy. This tactic creates a vacuum of uncertainty in the other person and often may lead them to lean forward out of their own enflamed insecurities. The dividends are twofold for this approach; first, this gives the risk and work of showing attraction to the other person, which of course secondly protects you from emotional risk yourself. As a ground rule, authenticity and openness are to be avoided... unless they can be used strategically to gain more trust from the other person. The key is to establish “hand” in the relationship by inflating oneself in the other’s eyes while chipping away at their confidence slowly as to maintain the pattern.  This can be maintained indefinitely or till something better comes along. If the latter happens the above procedure is repeated as the previous person is sent on their way – probably feeling a lot worse about themselves. Kind of whack, hmmmmmmm...? Well personally I believe there is another way.   

     Authenticity and being genuine can also be the central tenets of a single guy. Contrary to the more combative style of relationships just detailed one can also put honest presentations of the self forward. In doing this the girl you’re with can get an accurate sense of the person you are. With the right girl this approach would allow her to feel comfortable and safe to be herself too.  Another important dynamic is to show the same protective concern you would for yourself for her – if not more. Really the goal should be to see her come out of her shell – not so you can exploit it, but rather so you can bask in the knowledge that you are meeting the real person. 

    Are there risks to this approach? Most definitely – and there is no assurance either that in being authentic that the other person will, or even if they do that the connection will truly be there. We live in a world of so much variation that the “right” match is elusive – especially when the dynamics of physical and sexual attraction also come into play. The latter attributes are inherently binary in nature and really are there or not there. The most pressing danger of course is the possibility of being rejected for your authentic self. However not to put the real you out there is a sure fire way to end up with the wrong person for the wrong reasons anyway. Naturally one cannot be reckless in this regard as the pain of true rejection is as sharp as any feeling there is. Again though as the saying goes “without risk there is no reward” and the possibility of true intimacy and passion is a reward beyond anything material tenfold. Really it’s the only chance of making a true connection and because of that a gamble worth making...

Some Oldies but Goldies...

I must apologize for not blogging as of late. I've been really busy with school work. For anyone that has graced me by taking a look here I’m going to provide a link to my old blog for the time being.  I wrote a lot about my experiences in Amsterdam and Toronto in generally a light and amusing style. Take a peak... and enjoy.

http://www.iwasjustthinkingsomething.com/

My Gateway Drug

    A common theme with addiction is the idea of the gateway drug. That drug that got it all started. This drug is the users’ vice of choice and generally a vice that leads down the slippery slope of darker and deeper depravity. With that said, as a self confessed addict of travelling, my gate way drug has always been London. From the first time I saw her wide boulevards, packed streets, and diverse population I was hooked. It was sensory overload... Now time and time again as a new travel plan is hatched, I find it always begins in London than branches out.  Like any addict a compulsion draws me back each time. I’m powerless to resist.

       “Only a boring person would get bored in London.” I remember saying once to one of the cities detractors. There’s so much there. I was lucky enough to have lived all over the city. First off, anywhere you are there’s always a local pub filled with characters. In the UK, unlike Canada, the local drunk is given respect for their ability to provide drunken lore and impromptu, if occasionally misguided, conversation. As variety is the spice of life if local isn’t your thing there are countless distinct areas to go to. To name but a few, maybe you’ll find yourself in the twisting streets of Soho with London’s cool kids. Be warned though one Soho Street will have the city’s trendiest bars while the next maybe littered with prostitutes and drug dealers. Then there’s the alternative, bohemian vibe of Camden for live music and a less style conscious evening. For more conservative fare one could check into anyone of the traditional to hyper modern bars and pubs dotting around Piccadilly Circus, the Strand, and Covenant Garden. Really the options are as vast as ones imagination and willingness to try new places.

    “Every type of person under the sun is here... Honestly, per capita for every single person you meet– there’s just a higher chance than anywhere else they’ll be interesting.” My words from nine years back to a South African friend. I know it couldn’t have changed. In central London the talk isn’t of family, cars, or mortgages – it’s of artistic projects, career, and where the sick party is that weekend. In my limited time in the belly of the lion I met artists, millionaires, writers, record executives, raga bond – but chatty homeless people, backpackers from every country, cocky Fleet Street suits, uber hipsters, eastern Europeans with dreams, expat Western Europeans, ex convicts trying for a new start, a group of rough middle aged Millwall Football club supporters, a mentally unstable Scottish religious fanatic, and even Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rosdale. The list could go on and on... 

       As an addict I could indulge myself and descend further into a bender of description for London the place that has my heart. Instead I’ll leave it at this quick blurry snap shot; a snap shot of the variety that your mind’s eye might have trying to recall a walk down Oxford Street an hour previous. Maybe a mere Canadian mind is unqualified to capture the truth of London?... though really no single mind could capture it all in its full cosmopolitan glory. The reality and the irony is that London is lived not remembered – the London experience can only truly exist right in the moment. This leaves me in a never ending  Sisyphean circle of seeing it, basking in it, leaving then trying to remember as it fades and having to return again.  For that reason London always will be my gateway drug...

Above the Clouds

   I was on my way to live in the UK for a year. After I walked through the metal detectors at the airport in Edmonton I could no longer see my mom - the last visual link to the life I had known. Her resilient look of encouragement, tapered with a hint of sadness, would live inside me for some time to come. Lying before me was something new, something that no previous experience could prepare me for. Shivers went down my arms as I realized for the first time I was to be completely myself without anyone to lean on.
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Amsterdam (March 2005)
    The Dampkring is one of Amsterdam's trendiest coffee shops. The decor combines the aesthetic of an Indian bazaar with a fairy-tale motif. A flake plastic tree with a Middle-Earth Elvin appearance stands in the centre of the room. Behind the bar and on the roof murals and etchings of dwarfs, goblins, and other magical creatures peer over the coffee shop. Purple velvet curtains over the windows create a dim, moody feel; there's a real disconnect from the outside world. Hipsters, businessmen, and tourists share drug- addled thoughts with whoever will listen. Mixed in amongst the chairs, the tables, and the pot smoke a fat cat wandered around freely.
   My friend James walked in to meet me...
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Amsterdam to Edmonton: 5106 kilometers (July 2006)
- I'm in central London with my friend Shane from Edmonton. We don't have much money, so instead of paying for drinks in pubs we just carry beers with us on the streets.
- I caught eyes with a beautiful redhead going down the stairs in a hostel in Edinburgh. I was compelled to follow her down the stairs just so I could talk to her.I kept talking to her for the next three days and nights. 
-  I'm at a rave in Budapest behind the DJ box with a glass of champagne in hand. Five minutes earlier I'd offered a stranger a hit off my joint - the stranger happened to be the DJ.


   "Excuse me, sir, would you like a coffee or tea?" The flight attendant momentarily brought me back from the brief but vivid memories I was having from my travels. I was on a flight between Amsterdam and Edmonton. After six years abroad I was on my way home.
"I'll have tea please."
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Edmonton to London: 3178 kilometers. (November 2000) 
     Looking out the plane window over the Canadian landscape I realized that I was finally totally free. There would be no one to censor the way I wanted to be anymore. For the first time in my life I was the master of my own fate. The possibilities of self seemed endless. I felt intoxicated by it.
     A realization of this magnitude couldn't live solely as an abstract - it tingled throughout my body right to my fingertips. I needed to unleash whatever this feeling was. I grabbed a pen from my bag and began to write feverishly into my notebook.
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Amsterdam (March 2005)
   Conversations inside the Dampkring range from the trivial to the metaphysical, occasionally in the same sentence. I was sitting in a corner table with my friend James engaged in one such conversation. James was a well-traveled fellow expat from Toronto studying in Amsterdam. The Dampkring's cat was laid out on the chair beside us.


James: What made you want to travel?
Dave: It seems like such a long time ago when it started. It's hard to say - I think I felt stifled by my life.
James: Yeah, I know what you mean.
Dave: People around you have this way of exerting subtle control over you. Lots of people are fine with that - maybe they even relish it - they're happy to be controlled, but...
James: So you weren't?
Dave: I think in some ways I was, honestly, but it's hard not to be if it's all you've ever known. I remember feeling like everyone thought they had me pegged and that bothered me.
James: I was thinking, this coffee shop might be all that cat's ever known. I wonder how many times American tourists have blown pot in its face?
Dave: Probably a lot! Look at him, he doesn't know when to prrrrr or meow anymore.
James: Hahahahahhah... He's lived the life though!
Dave: True, true...  It makes me think, there are two types in this world: people that like change and those that don't.
James: That bloody cat is higher than Cheech Marin and Snoop Dog combined. I'm surprised it hasn't outright talked before. Hahahah...
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Amsterdam to Edmonton: 3178 kilometers (July 2006)
- "Hey gorgeous!" Femke, the Dutch girl I fancy so much, calls out to me just as I enter the bar in Bundaberg, Australia. My heart leaps...
- I'm on the night train between Zagreb and Munich. I ran out of money in my account back in Dubrovnik so I've decided to ration what I have left by sleeping on night trains.
- Three Aussie thugs have me surrounded at a phone booth in King's Cross, Sydney. "Ummmmm... Shane one second, there's something I have to deal with." I say into the phone before letting it dangle.

    Memories of moments that had previously filled me with such life now had me fearing the worst - were they over forever I thought? I could feel goosebumps forming on my arms and my eyes tearing. I fought my emotion. As I looked down at my warped knuckles from the fight at the phone booth, I remembered one of my travel sayings that explained both the good and the bad. "They were the best of times, they were the worst of times, but they were times." In those days excitement came in different forms be it meeting girls, being forced into fights, or actually having to worry about having enough money to eat. I couldn't stop a broad smile from forming. 
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Edmonton to London: 1977 kilometers ( November 2000)
   The plane was over the Atlantic Ocean. I looked down to read again what I had written in my notebook two hours previous.


The Moment
   Experience both lifts and holds one back; the recollection of experience prevents one from enjoying the zest of something new; why hold oneself back from what the world provides? The brain may be a reducer looking to make things functional and easy, but what lies beyond the threshold of idiosyncrasy? What if the experiences that the brain is experiencing are so hopelessly new that no script or memory of past experience can bring forth an old solution for a new situation? At that time we have one choice: adjust or be a colossal bore. Well to situate myself, I choose to adjust, to relearn the world, to become a kid again - a 23-year-old kid. Yeah!!!!!!
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Amsterdam (March 2005)
Dave: I bet that cat wouldn't leave if the door was wide open - it would stick to what it knew.
James: Are we talking about the cat or you now? I think you'd be the kind of cat that would head straight out that door.
Dave: What - even in a room of pot smoke?
James: Hahahahahahah - Yep, even still.
Dave: Yeah - well there's something about the unknown that draws me in.
James: I'd say. You've been traveling for five years!
Dave: Come on man, you know how it is; there's always that curiosity to peak around the next corner.
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Amsterdam to Edmonton: 1977 kilometers (July 2006)
- I'm walking through central London with Shane, Mike, and Lora - my closest friends from Edmonton. I feel so connected to them right now.

    My thoughts turned now to Mike, one of my best friends growing up. He stayed in Edmonton and built his life the traditional way. He was married to Lora and had a son with her. They owned a nice house together. The thought of him brought uncertainty to my mind. I own nothing except my laptop and the sum of my experiences.
    The flight attendant came by and took my dinner tray away. I thanked her and lied about the food, saying it was nice. She probably thought I was British, Australian, or European - not Canadian. After six years abroad I didn't even sound the same as when I left. I had formed a hybrid transatlantic accent. What would people in Edmonton make of it, I wondered? 
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Ten Minutes to landing in London (November 2000)
   London is getting closer. The pilot just announced our descent. I've barely slept on the flight - I can't sleep. Unconsciously I try to organize my thoughts into bite-sized slices of reality but they will not conform to that - I can't categorize what I don't know! Fear is present, but it's overpowered by the sheer excitement of the moment. What's going to happen when I leave the plane? It has become a safety blanket. I feel so alive. Had I been asleep the last 23 years?
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Amsterdam (March 2005)
James: Have you thought about what it will be like going home?
Dave: I have a bit, but I don't really know what home is anymore. I just hope people don't expect me to be the same.
James: You'll have trouble readjusting.
Dave: I guess. What I'll need is the courage to be the person I want to be, regardless of what anyone thinks. I wonder sometimes, why do people put so much pressure on stopping you from being who you want to be?
James: I don't know. I guess it's because they want to hold you as they know you.
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Ten minutes to landing in Edmonton. (July 2006)
- Queen's Day in Amsterdam, Holland's biggest party day of the year, a DJ's spinning funky House at Amstelveld. I'm watching a girl with white sunglasses dance - even though I'll never talk to her, I'm in love.
- I'm standing in the corner of Club Malibu in Edmonton. Surprise, surprise - the girls in here just don't like me.
- First day of grade 10 in Edmonton. I go to my first ever high school class with egg dripping down my forehead after being froshed by the seniors.


   The pilot has just announced our descent into Edmonton. Memories of Amsterdam began to fade to the background - reality was sinking in. My mind created unfairly bleak remembrances of the city I had grown up in. What now I thought? Will I quickly be swept back into old patterns from the past? I could sense a certain resignation taking hold of me, but now was the time to fight that I thought. Whatever this trip had been, I needed to bottle it inside of me as a constant reminder of my growth.
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Arrival in London (November 2000)
    I'm here. The plane touched down in London. There is no one here to meet me. People look different; they're looking at me for standing out. There is no script for this. The airport is so full. I am truly a speck of sand on a beach now. There's fear, but it's mixed with a new confidence.
    I grab my bag from the turn style and head forward. There wouldn't be time for dwelling and looking back anymore! My motto for travel is born in these fledgling moments. "Necessity is the mother of invention." I jump on the tube towards central London and the beginning of a new life.
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Amsterdam (March 2005) 
Dave: I want to believe you can travel wherever you are.
James: What do you mean? Like always do little trips?
Dave: No. I mean traveling is as much a mindset, as it's a physical reality. There's no "travel rule book: that says you can't seek difference wherever you are.
James: True.
Dave: It'll be hard when I get back, but if it was easy it wouldn't be worth anything. I need to travel without setting foot on a plane. I want to travel on the wings of something I read or a conversation that I'll have.
James: Sounds like you're getting as high as that cat. I better roll us another joint...
Dave: Yeah. I'm getting a little out there! Hahahahahah - but it's true - I want to travel forever, even though I can't.
James: Yeah.
Dave: If your imagination stays free and you let yourself remain a kid inside, at least just a little bit, you can travel where ever you are.
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Arrival in Edmonton (July 2006) 
   I was back in Edmonton on the ground now. Of course, I remembered the airport, but the people seemed different. What was this place, I'm not part of the tribe, I thought. It felt no more like home than did any of the other cities I had traveled through. My mind fumbled over the past, realizing what I might never do again. Then I saw my dad standing over by the airport entrance.


"Hey dad - it's great to see you." I gave him a big hug. I immediately felt reassured.
  
   It dawned on me this was a new beginning too. I'm not coming back here to retrace my former steps. I thought of the jubilation I had felt flying to London all those years back. Nothing previous or since had ever given me that same kind of mental and physical high and maybe it never would. Still, I knew there was room to grow, experience, and learn where ever I was. Maybe the change wouldn't be so dramatic or memorable, but, necessity could still be the mother of invention - if I allowed it to be. The challenge would be allowing it. 


"Are you just going to stand there?" my dad said looking at me oddly. "You're home."   

Role Confusion

    Sitting in tonight, my mid terms are starting to pile up. I really wish I was out having a beer and a laugh... but here I am in front of the keys. I actually should be studying. Today, I trained again to be a research assistant at my University’s Psychology Department. I’m looking forward to the experience and it definitely will look good on graduate school applications. One thing that really struck me was how much of the position is acting and taking on a role. The majority of what I have to do is following an elaborate script, and do it as consistently as I can each time. This made me think to myself; how much authenticity is surrendered when we fall into a role?

      Personally, I feel most comfortable when I’m firing off the cuff with what I say and do. I generally grant myself the freedom to do this a lot even when others might act more formally. I think it’s the residue of all the traveling I did. I suppose though a major aspect of “growing up” is submitting to roles that limit your freedom. This is a skill that needs to grow in certain people; I know it has to grow in me. Taking on a role feels like a return to childhood, you make believe again. Except this time it isn’t so fun. You make believe that you are this serious person when you don’t feel like you are. Most people seem to like not acting serious as much as they can. So why aren’t there more jobs for the non serious people?

    What I’m saying I guess is that I wish there was a larger diversity of roles that we can take on and be successful. Being really serious and having people respond to you as an authority doesn’t feel like my bag. One of my professors pointed about public speaking and the need to be able to do it by saying “there are leaders and followers... which one do you want to be?” My answer would be neither – I want to follow my own path, but I don’t care if anyone else follows. That way the only authority I need to be content with is my own. This is a challenge I face, one I guess everyone faces..., how much do you want to remain yourself. And conversely how much of your self are you willing to give up? This is a question that still broods in my heart - I want the esteem a good job brings while still being authentic to myself.