So, I’m back in Sydney.

 

Arrived yesterday morning.  I spent most of yesterday feeling quite miserable– the plane rides to get me back here were quite taxing on me.  Aside from the crazy dry air on the last plane (that was making my eczema flare up really badly) there were 3 crying babies that made it impossible to sleep and a sick person at across the isle whose cold I seem to have caught.  All in all?  I feel like shit today.

I am, however, at school, in to submit a nomination form, since I’ll be going after a Law Faculty Board position again this semester.  Kind dumb, but if I had only filled out this damn form about  week ago, I would have won by default.  Now, if anyone else tries to sign up, then it’ll go down to elections– and I don’t have the patience for campaigning, so I guess that’s all there is to that!

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Despite how lousy I feel right now, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinnig about [Zanshin]‘s wedding.  It really was a good wedding, least of all because it had excellent food.  People looked sharp.  I think it just feels more important when you notice that people in the room really want the new husband and wife to do well– there’s just this incredible feeling of support going on.

 

People often ask me if I miss home.  In general, I don’t– I have [CM] with me here in Australia, and that’s the single largest factor that contributes to me being a sane, effective person.  Whenever I’m away from [CM], I feel  bit lost ad empty.  Even being sick and miserable is better when she’s around.

But at the same time, while I was at the wedding, I couldn’t help but feel a bit notalgic– nostalgic of the time when I used to be a part of something.  I mean, a huge group of people who all know me and who I share history with.  Not that that was the case at the wedding– in reality, I basically knew only the groom and one of his friends.  But to see so may people who knew the groom and the bride?  I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of their position, supported by so many people who clearly wish only the best for them.

 

In contrast, CM and I often wonder: why does life have to be so hard?  Why does it always feel like we’re out here on our own?

 

The answer is rather obvious– because we don’t have the time to make the deeply rooted relationships that we want.  When we lived in Montreal, we had all the friend and free time in the world– now, that situation is completely reversed.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

At the wedding, I was given the privilege of giving the best man speech.  It went better than i expected– a lot of people actually approached me afterwards an told me how they enjoyed it!  I don’t know if that’s just common wedding courtesy or something, but whatever.  Originally, I prepared something like 15+ minute of yak yak yak because I was afrai that thats what the maid of honour was going to do.  I heard that the maid of honour was basically going to read from a sheet.  In the end, she came up with some thoughts on the fly, expressing what she thought in an impromptu fashion.  I did the same, throwing out everything I had written– and it was better like that anway.

 

Writing  speech about Zanshin, in any case, was a cool exercise– it revealed to me really how much history the two of us have.  I have never experieced as many literally life-or-death situations with others as I have with him.  And I’ve seen him grow from who he was when we met in high school to who he is today.  The changes, the evolution… not only of our relationship, but of him, well, it’s astounding.

 

I’m really happy for you, Z.

i feel like i live in airports>

 

bushfires im sydney have left me temporarily trapped at lax

 

 

fun

Sometimes, I hear about really dysfunctional people.

 

Like many people, hearing about them makes me really angry and frustrated.  I wonder to what extent other people imagine violence though… as in, if you hear about someone who is a total jackass, do you imagine yourself punching the person in the face?

I mean, figuratively, a lot of people do.  Other people imagine throwing pies at eachother maybe?  Or maybe kicking the guy’s car?

 

The difference is that I actually know how to hit people.  So sometimes, my imagination gets a bit graphic– I imagine things instead like driving a deep elbow to the side of the rib cage, or something like that.

 

Dunno.  Just saying.

 

What does your imagi-rage look like?

 

 

I have no idea what time, or what day it is.  But that’s normal, considering the sudden 14 hour shift in time between Sydney and Montreal.

 

I arrived in Los Angeles at some point within the last 48 hours, with 1 hour and 45 minutes before my plane to Chicago.  I spent almost an hour getting through customs, another 10 minutes transfering my luggage, and about 15-20 minutes lined up to clear customs,  That left me with a whole 10 minutes or so to run like a madman from the security gate all the way to gate 68 or something like that, which felt like it was almost a kilometer away.   It was not pleasant– I made it on the plane about 5 minutes before the damn thing took off, and having ran with my carry on (all my electronics in a shoulder bag) I was sweaty and itchy when I got on the plane.  But, still, I considered myself quite lucky.

 

When I landed in Chicago, I had 45 minutes to get to the plane to Montreal.  At least I didn’t have to go through customs again or clear security, or transfer my luggage again.  However, we took longer than expected to dock and unload from the plane, so I ended up doing another mad dash, this time making it onto the plane only 10 minutes or so before it actually started moving.  Again, really sweaty.

 

All I can say is, that’s why I never wear flip flops or sandals to the airport.  I need running shoes with some grip so that I can really run.

 

I got to Montreal, in the end, a little bit early– however, apparently, my luggage didn’t make it from Chicago to Montreal on the same flight as me. 

 

 

I guess my luggage wasn’t wearing running shoes.

I remember when I was young, one of the first airplanes I ever took was when I was probably between 10 and 12.  We went from Calgary to Montreal.  I don’t remember it being a miserable experience, but it might’ve been.  Then again, I do remember the road trip from Montreal to Florida– and we got through that with books of word-find puzzles and childrens’ activities books that my parents bought from somewhere.  Those things had literally hundreds of pages of things to do, so I guess it wasn’t that bad.

 

I sit here in Kingsford Smith International Airport in Sydney, waiting for my flight to Los Angeles, where I’ll take another plane to Chicago and finally back home to Montreal for [Zanshin]‘s wedding, I’m on my netbook.  I have my smartphone plugged in and charging and I use free WiFi.  Times have changed over the decades, haven’t they?

 

Yet some things, technology doesn’t change, very much.  Like wanting to go back home every now and then, and for one, for good reasons.

 

Zanshin is the friend with whom I have the longest history with, out of everybody I know, and it’s an honour to go back and be a best man.  I will literally be spending more time on airplanes (a total of about 4 days in the air) than I will on the ground (I only have time to stay in Montreal for 3 days, before needing to head back for the next semester), but it’s a good reason to go back.  It really is.

 

Okay, well all I need to do now is come up with that 6 minute speech…

 

 

 

 

[SiB] was once talking about self-hypnosis, as one of those processes that one uses towards self-improvement.  At the time, I remember thinking that it sounded gimmicky, and that buying into that fad was just what those self-help gurus wanted so that they could get rich better off the waves of desperate people.

 

I don’t think it’s so gimmicky any more.  Well, let me be more clear– I don’t think that you can look yourself in the eyes of your bathroom mirror and just “reprogram” your mind by talking to your reflection, and muttering the same thing over and over.  No, I haven’t tried it.  It just sounds ridiculous, so I haven’t bothered.

 

The reality is, however, that there’s craploads of hypnosis going on all the time.  That kind of stuff is real.  People get riled up and start following things.  The only difference is whether people do so under the influence of their own charisma, or someone elses.

 

Have you ever listened to an American presidential election speech?  I was listening to the big Mitt Romney speech the other day (it was being rebroadcast in Sydney).  Look at the way the crowd goes absolutely mad– and then, step back, and consider a few things.

 

If you were to read what is actually being said in the speech, it has almost nothing at all to do with why you should vote for Mitt Romney.  What he did, and what all presidential candidates did, do, and will continue to do in the years to come, is pretty simple:

• he flatters you by making you think that You are the American person that he got into office to protect
• he tells you about the hardship of Americans like You in times of economic depression
• he tells you about past American achievements, by Americans like You.
• he tells you about strong American women, like your mom, like his mom, and other American women who are great, and how Women are important in America.
• he tells you about how immigrants come to America for the dream of a better life, and how he’s all about immigrants, immigrants like You.
• he tells you about his history in his community, as a fine, upstanding religious man, just like You.
• he tells you about how heroic, generous, and hardworking the people are, people like You.

A few observations:

Firstly, yes, I realise it is always he and it is never she who is making these speeches.  So if you want to talk about an American system that is endorsing women, well, then, show me a female presidential candidate.  Do something with American Women, other than have them be the wives of important people in your stories who “stand by their men.”

Secondly, it’s the oldest tactic in the book to just talk about economic depression and complain about the last 4 years as if the last guy dropped the ball.  Admittedly, I do like Obama better– I won’t hide that.  But to say that he’s responsible for every  economic setback is to ignore that years of American history have lead the economy to the position it’s in now.  And it’s not just economics– it’s culture.  Obama gets in trouble because he’s relatively socialist– things like Obamacare just don’t sit well with people who like to think that competition solves all your problems.  I don’t want to get into a capitalism discussion here, but the basic cheap trick is the oldest one: offer people cheaper prices, and cheaper gas, and more convenience.  Don’t talk about responsibilities of any kind (because, well, you can always dump that on the future generations, after their term is up).  Don’t talk about international responsibilities.  Don’t talk about the culture of the American consumer, the one that is being taught to buy more and eat more and seek the higher luxuries as a sign of advancement.  Don’t talk about the problem with unlimited capitalism.  Just offer them the “better deal,” the one where all the costs are externalised to “someone else”.

Third, immigrants?  Are you fucking kidding me?  If you care so much about immigrants, show me how much of your American senate is made up of people who aren’t upper-class, late middle aged white men, and then talk to me about how you think these people are looking out for the immigrants.  Talk to me about constant moves by republicans to cut public education that distance the immigrant’s ability to grow up and compete.  Talk to me about the the policies on health care.  The thing that pisses me off about these speeches is that they throw around the word “Immigrants” left and right as if they care.  It’s like a quota– every presidential speech needs to use the word at least 10 times, whether or not they say anything useful about the topic.

 

Finally: YOU.  The most obvious problem about the typical presidential speech is that it has very little to do with the president.  It’s an ego fluff: he spends most of his time flattering you.  He tells you about Americans like you, hardworking, noble, generous, all that.  That’s you– that’s not him.  Why is he selling You, to You, when he should be selling himself and his policies?  Why is he talking about You, and your past, your achievements, when he should be talking about what he can do for you?  It’s smoke and mirrors.

 

People don’t go to presidential candidate speeches because they’re going to learn anything– they go there because they’re drawn to the charisma of the speaker.  And part of being charismatic is being able to tell people what they want to hear.   It’s not so much that they’re making empty promises– it’s that they’re not even promising anything at all, because they’re so great at spinning an hour of generalisations and fluff that you forget just what it is that you want out of a president, and you just pay attention to when is the right time for the right buzzword to be used in the same side with “American,” so that you can get out of your seat and start screaming FUCK YEAAAAAH with everyone else next to you.  And you before you know it, you’re caught up, you forget– sometimes the words that come up are not you.  They’re the things you like, and aspire to, because you’ve seen it glorified in movies.  Heroism and all that.

 

But is a presidential candidate telling you that he will be your hero?  Or is he just talking, generally, to get the crowd riled up?  Is he just throwing out bait at key parts of the water to keep up the energy of a feeding frenzy, so nobody questions that feeding hand?

 

My point is this: everyone is hypnotised.  It’s amazing how we can do this.  We do it and we don’t realise it.  We seek the things that we relate to, and these are the ways that we subtly start accepting ideas from people who present themselves as similar to us.  I was talking about my obsession with Shonen anime; it’s no different.  We chose people who we want to believe in.

 

And that’s absurd, because nobody’s circumstnaces are so similar to your own that you should ever place the responsibility of your life philosophy in someone else’s hands.  You shouldn’t “believe” in others to the point where it detracts from what you feel that you yourself have to get done.  But we submit to hypnosis– because it’s easier to feel that we can’t do whatever we want.  It’s easier to let someone else make the promises, even if they aren’t kept, because it’s a convenient scapegoat for us to be betrayed, rather than for us to seek and achieve on our own.  So we allow ourself to be hypnotised– the hypnosis, self-induced, is us giving in, sealing off thoughts and doubts.

 

I know that I do it to myself.

 

But I know  also that I select the ways in which I want to be hypnotised, and I’m trying to figure out the ways in which I’m doing it to myself.

 

One thing’s for certain– I can feel the charisma just oozing off of Romney.  But I also find the fact that people can do that– I mean, completely enilven a stadium full of people– it’s frightening.  It’s a lot like a Justin Bieber concert.  It could just as well be people lining up outside of the Apple store, waiting for the next iPhone.  In so many ways, it’s just like a sports event, or a religious thing– there is a madness of conviction that courses through a crowd that I can’t help but feel is going to round out some of the uniqueness of the wants and aspirations in that room, beacuse at some point, that person at the front of it is going to leverage that support to do something that a few people in the crowd don’t like– but by then, it’ll be too late.   By then, they’ll be too hypnotised to notice.  The cults have taken your mind, and like the devil, their most clever trick was to fool you into thinking that he didn’t exist.

 

 

I guess this is all just to say– people should develop a habit of figuring out just what people are saying.  People should figure out just what they’re subscribing to.  Figure out what you believe in doing, not who you believe in– and follow that, to the very end.

I have a pair of shoes that, nowadays, I always use for biking.  They’re all leather, but not dress shoes or anything like that. They’re a unique set of shoes in that they’re almost like leather slippers, with soles on them.  They have zippers on the sides of them as part of the design.  They’re thin. In some ways, they resemble rock climbing shoes in form, except they’re fancy-ish.

 

I consider them, in a way, like my “agile” shoes.  They’re great for biking because their thinness fits easily into the toe-clips of my bike pedals.  THeir thinness also reminds me of my Jeet Kune Do days– back then, [VIttek] and I wore kung fu shoes on our feet.  These aren’t the kinds of shoes that protect my feet– they’re the kinds of shoes that stay out of the way of my feet, and give you just enough protection so you don’t get cut by stones or get your feet dirty.  Basically, they stay out of the way of your feet when you’re using your feet for various things– like  kicking ass. Indeed, if I ever did kick someone sideways with these shoes, the zippers would probably gash someone pretty good if I used them properly.

 

I bought these shoes in 2008.  I remember it specifically, because I got them somewhere in Calgary.  It was a layover to visit [TheChairman] on my way back home from South Korea.  These shoes have stayed with me since– simple, but functional.  Worn, but they have a lot of history to them now.  I sort of associate them with my “awakening” after coming back from Asia, revisiting Montreal for the first time after having embarked upon my unwitting pilgrimage.

 

I was just thinking about them the other day because, when I wear these shoes, I feel every stone that I step on.  I can feel the shape of cracks on sidewalks. I can feel the grooves of my pedals.  I can even feel the creak of the joints between the small bones of my feet, if I walk slowly enough.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

When you really think about the things we do to entertain ourselves, they’re really just exercises in blunting our awareness.  If you watch a movie, if you drink alcohol, if you play a videogame– it’s escapism.  It’s escapism to get away from the things that you’re aware of when your mind idles and notices.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

It’s important, though, to find a way to blunt your awarness, and to numb yourself to certain things. It’s necessary to keep morale up– you need to figure out coping mechanisms to get through the struggles of life.

 

I found out a few days ago that I wasn’t going to be progressing to the second round of interviews.  I found out while I was out biking home.  It didn’t hit me at first, but I knew it would.  Later when I got home, I took a nap in the middle of the afternoon and slept like the dead.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

The thing about rejection and me is that for me, it’s really like Neitszche and the footpath– when you are rejected, you question yourself.  Everything that led you up that rejection suddenly becomes suspect: was it because of this? or that? Why, when I was measured and tried, was I found wanting?

I know myself well enough to know how I deal with these things.  [CM] knew that I was totally off, and she seemed noticibly worried about me and how I would cope with the news.  I just told her I’d be fine, and that I needed some time alone.

 

At certain times, I don’t want escapism– I want to wallow in self pity, and really bring myself to rock bottom.  I want to let the despair, misery, and feelings of powerlessness completely seep through me to the marrow and sinew.

 

Why do I want that?

Because it’s only when I completely purge myself of hope that I can accept a reality.

 

And it’s only then that I can start summoning up the rage I need to find a new way to do things.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I don’t take kindly to losing.  The fact of the matter is, I work hard– damn hard.  I can say that for a first-world citizen, I really go out of my way to make my life hard on myself.  I want things out of this world, I expect things from people.  I accept that I’m not perfect, that I’m not the best– but I am to be reckoned with when I set my mind to something.

THe truth is, missing out on a successful clerkship this semester is a missed opportunity.  But, I was jumping the gun a bit– I still have next year to really apply.  I shouldn’t, technically, have been applying this semester– I was just trying to see if I could get in.  The fact that I got an interview at the biggest firm in Asia-Oceania is already an achivement, and I should pat myself on the back for that.

 

I guess what I’m getting at is that now that I’ve worked it through my system, now that I’ve gone through the motions of grief and rage, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I didn’t get chosen for one of those valued internship positions.  And I’m moving on.  I’m doing what needs to be done for this semester.  And next year? I’ll be back.  I’ll have learned from this experience, and become 1 year tougher.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

The typical shonen anime is a story of an underdog– very often, an outcast or underdog kid with no friends, and no self-confidence.

 

CM often wonders why I keep watching that stuff– it’s really all quite predictable, isn’t it?

 

I think I continue to watch that stuff because it’s an act of self-hypnosis.  The fact of the matter is, I wasn’t always who I am now.  I was weaker.  That’s not to say that I’m strong now, but I am stronger.  I’ve come a long way– and a lot of it had to do with being stubborn, and not being afraid to make mistakes.  Every now and then, I let myself go rock bottom.  It’s not an event of failure that makes that happen– it’s me.  I let myself really feel despair and hoplessness. I let myself go days and weeks even with terrible sleep, belittling myself.

 

Why?

 

It’s a cleansing process.  It’s a deconstruction, to really get to the point where I can figure out: okay.  What’s the new game plan?  That one back there didn’t work for X, Y, and Z reasons.  What’s our new angle of attack?  What have I learned?

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Today, [Campbell] was too busy to go to the riverside and spar with me.  So, on my own, I picked up the punching bag, lugged it down the hill, strung it up, and just went at it until the drizzle turned into rain.

 

I know that scientific studies have shown that giving into physical violence actually doesn’t do much to calm your nerves.  But for me, it’s not about ‘venting.’  It’s about having an activity where output leads to result– it’s about moments in time where there is a directness connecting my efforts and the way I’m able to shape reality.  The beauty of martial arts is that you can transfer intention into the real world, and nothing in between is muddled by chance– you turn your shoulder at a bit of this angle, you lean in with a bit more weight this way– and a technique explodes forward, and you see the result.

 

For me, hitting a bag, brutish a solution as it sounds, is me exercising a re-calibration.  It’s me grounding myself in reality.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

If you watch enough shonen anime or read the mangas, the inevitable problem is that you start wanting to be a hero. 

 

The thing about shonen tales is that everything is laid out for them– there’s a destiny to them, some sort of script.  In real life? Not so.  We don’t know how it’ll turn out.

 

But I don’t think that’s an excuse.  Even if we don’t turn out to be heroes, the fact is, the only chance we have of become heroes and heroines is if we build ourselves in that direction.  I’m not going to be walking to school one day and then suddenly become the pilot of a giant robo– nothing is going to fall on my lap that will have that kind of lasting effect.

 

What do you need to do?

 

You need to keep hitting.  And when you get knocked down?  You get back up.  And you hit some more.

 

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

One of the Go Club members, last week, showed up, looking a bit dejected.  This was the guy who I taught how to play back in January– it’s been 7 months that he’s been playing now, and he’s made enormous progress.  He’s climbed up from a 30 kyu level all the way to about 13k.

 

He’s going back to HK, so the chances of him keeping on his promise to beat me by the end of the year? Well– it’s unlikely.  He loves the game though– you can tell, by the way he studies it so intently.

We had a game, an even one, no handicaps.  I crushed him.  I crushed him as if we had a blood feud.  Because, really, a serious game?  That’s what he wanted.

 

Afterwards, we had a good laugh, we shook hands, and promised to play online again at some point.

 

The thing is, life is the kind of situation where you can take it seriously, or you can take it easy.

The thing about passion is that you never really take it easy: you grab at it, or more accurately, you grasp at it, and if you do manage to get your fingers around it, you clutch it because your life, in a sense, depends on it.

 

You want life to take you seriously.  You want to be recognised and respected for what you put your heart and soul into.

 

If you can work at something, and really sweat and bleed for it, and suffer for it– even if you don’t get what you want, isn’t the fact that you’re being taken seriously halfway there?