On this bridge, Lorca warns...

The 'average'(not as in 'mediocre,' but as in 'typical') mind has an intermediary process that takes place automatically when it encounters new information. Think of this process as a secretary in an office. Most of my professors describe their cognitive thought process as resembling a set of drawers. Knowledge and ideas are filed appropriately, and the secretary knows where to store and, more importantly, from where to retrieve them. My secretary is bad. Sometimes it is unreliable or slow to respond. At other times, I can experience absolute clarity of something new or something once forgotten. This is a paradox for me.

This is an analogy for a condition that I was born with. There is no name, so we must defer to the realm of generalizations and call it. as professionals do, a "learning disability."

This affects me socially, academically and psychologically. It explains thousands of instances of anxiety, frustration and grief that date back to my earliest days of self-awareness.

Brief feelings of panic, reaching for some basic fact...the most simple trivia, something learned over and over again, with thought and care, yet all sense of it is lost. To read a book and experience the amazing clarity of words and ideas, the most perfect picture of organization... and then to lose it minutes later. I feel like my mind is beautiful, but only in the present. It can grasp the essence of things yet rarely recalls them. The structure of reinforcement and repetition in school is helpful, but hours after the exam and my sense of the real SIGNIFICANCE OF THINGS is gone.

The secretary is bad. There are not enough active brain cells, neural connections, or whatever, in the part(s) of my brain that handle spatial organization.
This is what my 'profile', drawn from rigorous cognitive tests, tells me.


It is frustrating to have a condition that affects my life, and yet to most observers, has no noticeable symptoms. Frustrating also, is a history of misdiagnosis that plagues the relatively new field of learning psychology. Things have come a long way from those years when 'learning disabled' meant 'ADD', where Ritalin or some such could be conveniently described and the problem imagined away. Yet there is much more to this.

Many do not appreciate the significance of another's personal struggles and challenges, particularly if others or they themselves have (or think they have) experienced something like that already.

I have been told by more than one person, that they "don't believe in learning disabilities." This to me, is arbitrary and quite indistinguishable from one's personal opinion. Some people reject my suggestion that the term was assigned to me by professionals in psychology, on the loose basis that "it's not like that," and cite various examples of themselves or other friends who had 'something' yet got by 'just fine.' I often feel that people are not interested in particulars, only generalizations which are broad and comforting - the "duct tape" for the uncertainties in this world. Indeed, labels are problematic because they by definition allow for 'grey areas' but are all too often used in the service of 'black and white truths.'

In my two years of negotiating the varied and confusing terrain of my own personal deficit, I have learned more than enough to advocate for myself. This process however, has also raised a ton of philosophical and existential questions: what is my potential? What, in fact - all truisms and motivational posters aside - is my mind capable of? I know that I"m running. In fact, I recently completed the last credit of my undergraduate degree in Political Science and Philosophy. So yes, I am running. However, once can be on a treadmill and run in place forever. Is this what I am doing, or is forward motion possible given this difficulty of mine?
I'm told that to get through undergrad alone is an accomplishment in itself, given the 'odds'. If this is true, is it wise to press on in the world of academia?

If academia is for human archives, could I persist and achieve in such a world? And if so, would I not suffer, striving hard towards something for which I'm not suited? If law school is the best place for people with an easy facility of mind, is this where I belong?

I grew up, as so many of us do, believing that what we achieve is solely the product of our own works. This is a nice sentiment, and great for inflating our sense of self. However, it's not very good at helping us to accept the natural strengths and weaknesses that accompany all people. I have considered more now than ever, that when hard work fails to bring the expected result, perhaps it's an indication of something else, something systemic.

I don't believe in giving up, or in dreaming up limitations for ourselves.
But the runner with asthma has to get off the treadmill, no? The runner has to become something else, in fact to run further only injures her more. There is little progress, yet she remains stubbornly insistent that she is supposed to run; perhaps her very identity depends on it.

I"m not sure about that, or about how to finish this.

Though I"ve spoken about this tens if not hundreds of times, I can't reproduce it here with the same clarity. I do NOT believe that I will be properly understood. This frustrates me, and as many perfectionists can attest, makes me want to avoid it for now.

Please answer with complete truthfulness:

Is anybody out there? Are you?
Hello...?

I need to know, please confirm, time is short. Your participation now could change it all!

Now you caught me heart for the evening
Kissed my cheek, moved in, you confuse things
Should I just sit out or come harder?
Help me find my way.
-A Tribe Called Quest, 'Find A Way'

We been friends for a long time, a very close friend of mine
Love you like you was mine, but respect a thin line
I love you like you was mine, think about you all the time
Very close friend of mine, but respect a thin line
-Jurassic 5, 'Thin Line'

No updates for 41 consecutive weeks. What brings me back, irresistibly? Have to capture this moment in time where music and life converge into a (perhaps artificial) but nonetheless exhilarating feeling of MUTUAL RELEVANCE!

Now I bring to you a couple song lyrics that find their way into my life at the most 'appropriate' time. New songs for new feelings? Look these songs up too, breaths of fresh air, watch the sun rising or falling, think lovely thoughts.

News from the G8 Summit has never brought me much other than a mix of skepticism, confusion or disappointment.

Basically an association of the world's badasses, the G8, whose member countries account for 60 per cent of the world's gross domestic product, says its members are united by common values of democracy, human rights and the free-market economy.

So they just met, as they do five times a year, to discuss various global economic, social and political sheezy.

And HOT DAMN did this make me laugh.

George Bush, introducing our Prime Minister to to the president of Nigeria, hollah'd: "Yo Harper," to get his attention. Here's the funny part. Opposition parties are actually CRITICIZING this as demonstrating the "ideological kinship" between the two Conservative leaders. -_-

YES, perhaps an international policy forum isn't the best place to be droppin' the slangs and certain rules of formality are what keep everyone at their best. Still, the stuffiness of political discourse should leave room for some straight talk.

Two hours of a single speaker: "INDEED, THE BIMODAL PLURALITY SCHEMES OF THE INTERNATIONAL FIDUCIARY etc. etc. ogod what's he even talk about anymore" vs. "Yo, Harper."

As if stagnating a discussion with confusing rhetoric doesn't betray "ideological kinships." In fact, it can just as easily obscure the truth or at the very least make the heart of the matter totally inaccessible. The faultiest arguments or the most single-minded conclusions can sound great under the subtle veneer of fancy language. Worry about this instead, and let playa Bush holla at Harper however he wants.

Anyway, for those who watched the Wimbledon final. Tough to see Federer go down. As much as Nadal deserved his win, and as epic as the five set match really was, 52 unforced errors from the Fed versus Nadal's best tennis made this disappointing. I have that preoccupation so many people do with our 'heroes.' Watching Federer lose just shy of setting a new record of straight titles won... well, it breaks that spell that heroes generate for us. Maybe we wanna see that unquenchable flame in others that we wanna see in ourselves, I don't know. I was bummed out to watch Federer lose - flopping on easy shots is demoralizing for the player and for the fans.

WELL NOW, more works for me to do. Hope things are good out there, miss a bunch of ya.

Hey, rap gets such a lousy name - bitches in the club, drugs and money, etc. Well, no art form is a slave to trends, rap is flexible and multifaceted too.
Check this out: Black Star - Respiration (ft. Common)

Black Star is a pair of rappers, Talib Kweli and Mos Def. Mad skills, conscious and poetic rappers. I luhhhhhhv that. Bringing in Common for this song is just icing on the cake.

To say: "It could be worse," is to say nothing at all. What am I missing here? Because something of relative 'worseness' is hypothetically possible in your life, your current predicament suddenly loses the character of what it is?

Does the fish that narrowly escapes the fisherman, feel any less pain from the hook in its mouth?

We are creatures of expectations, aren't we? We evaluate the quality of our lives based on what could - and perhaps MUST - be better, given where we are and what is possible.


Knowledge and progress, school and works, are sacred to me. (among other things, if you were going to say: "school's not everything.") I'm in school to stretch my mind to the fullest extents of what I study. No, not to satisfy an ASIAN family complex or to work my way up. TO LEARN.

The doctor(s) aren't quite sure what I'm capable of, given how my brain works. Nothing is black and white, the degree to which EFFORT will override ABILITY, is totally unclear.


Sometimes, knowledge and understanding come together with such clarity, like lines of tetris. And it's a rush - of accomplishment and a sense of motion.
But, like in our favorite puzzle game, all that's left behind are meaningless numbers as record of your brief success. Perhaps you top off the high-scores list... but the lines you've made explode and disappear in a flash of pixelated light, and you have nothing that endures.

I've had my share of high scores, a good feeling. But knowledge and understanding is fleeting - WHY AM I HERE, IN SCHOOL, when everything I build in my mind EXPLODES, with some fancy numbers on a report card that are supposed to indicate success when really, nothing is left after a few days.

I'm the king of bad analogies, I know. But what's there to say other than what occurs to you?

I have a disconnectivity disorder - a problem with retrieving information; a file cabinet without folders, a stack of records without covers. 2% of the population has this - most of which were premature at birth. The two sides of my brain are like unequally trained figure skaters - one is actually average, as it should be. The other, excels tremendously, and pushes its hapless partner into difficult routines. Invariably, both will fall, and the routine fails.

Learning, it goes like this: (reading a text, sitting in a lecture...anything)

It always starts, with a straight and linear road...observing landmarks on the way, just being so aware of where I am, how I got here - and foreseeably, what's next. This road makes clear and indelible impressions on my mind. so clear.

Hold on to that feeling! Then I get to the end of the road, suddenly my bearings feel lost, and I can't remember what I saw, what this road is called, or where it is.

TURN AROUND, and see that the road I travelled, has split like vines, snaking its way over and into everything. Crossing borders it shouldn't, forming incomprehensible intersections with other roads that DON'T belong together.

Take a deep breath, read it again, go back to the beginning of the concepts, find a landmark, work what the pieces you learned through to their logical conclusions. What is this chapter about, what was I talking myself through just moments ago when it made sense? Just GO BACK TO WHAT YOU KNOW.

And this is where it starts. This is honestly, where the MADNESS starts.

My head spins around a handful of images. Words, some vague associations... clawing and tearing through this forest of disparate information trying to find the BEGINNING. There are no landmarks in this forest - the trees are indistinguishable! I KNOW IT'S THERE. I know there is a HOUSE in here somewhere in these woods, because I BUILT it, myself, for hours a day. SO WHERE IS IT, AND WHERE DID MY FLIPPING MAP GO?!

If I wanted to expend EFFORT without MOTION, I'd go run on a treadmill. If I wanted to build rows upon rows of infor-fucking-mation, only to watch it slip away with only a number to show for it, I'd play some bloody Tetris.

Am I cut out for this?! Is this life of intellectual pursuits I always imagined, unsuitable for me? Maybe I should just get off the treadmill, I've never felt such unsteadiness in my legs.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. I get soooo mad these days, I can't be right around people until I feel right with myself. Too self-aware of what's wrong...the most pressing issues of my entire life. Some people can switch off, enjoy their time with the outside world. Some avoid the kind of deep and merciless introspection that I feel is (...because it has ALWAYS been) NECESSARY to understand what the fuck is going on.

"Don't give up," I know. I would only be giving up on something I never had. Maybe better to give up the illusion of progress than to waste these years reaching for some lofty goals that aren't right for me.

Hi, I haven't written in a long time. This was all stream of consciousness, editing would simply be wrong. Just indulge me, if you don't mind.

Routine and discipline, balance, everything in moderation. Our favorite maxims! I decided to give them another shot, in earnest.

As much as I appreciate the feeling that my life is in order, I've never felt closer to losing my mind. I hate the straight lines, my mind looks for anything it can to break the confines of this nice and responsible mold.

Left unchecked, my mind has a serious penchant for the neurotic - driven by a motor, I see flashes of every ounce of self doubt I have ever had. They are so persistent, creeping into my head all bloody day, between pages of my politics texts, while I work out, play an instrument. I wish I were in fact being melodramatic about this stuff... because then it wouldn't be quite so real, and at the very least, under my control.

Alas, I was never one to embellish or indulge myself in my emotions.

The mind can be so fracking persuasive; the irony of being brainwashed by your own thoughts and obsessions! Haha, it kills me. Without any compelling evidence to the contrary, all of my introspection turns - like clockwork - to the most self-punishing thoughts ever. STOP.

Generic fortune cookie advice is usually dispensed here: call a friend! think of the good things! do something else! it's all in the mind! etc.

But I'm a smart guy - I know this. I know the logics and the "illogics" of my state of mind. I know that most thoughts are of our own design, many of which we can - and should - ignore.

Change the track, switch lanes, get off the treadmill...I know.

But my MIND doesn't SWITCH - it has an answer to everything, a new image of failure or embarrassment or futility to replace the one you just banished. It's like a FLIPBOOK gone wrong, the intensity of my mind... I need sequence, order, but the pictures are moving too fast. What I do see, I don't like.

Nothing is more infuriating than the disjunct between your sober conclusions and your impulsive mind.

Logic and obsession are born in completely different places. I need the first to tame the second, but they speak different languages. Maybe this is how it starts - the gradual decline into straight up neuroses.

I've had "a grip", for as long as I can remember - a subconscious thing. Isn't it always?

Maybe that's why I'm so convinced I'm losing it. Or maybe, getting diagnosed with brain deficits that explain 1000+ instances all the way back to Kindergarten... maybe this puts me in a funk. Such a premium I always put on performance, intelligence, knowledge...essay and exam marks. This is your salvation from people who make fun of you.

I can't think of a shakier house of cards.


Jesus god, where are the brakes on this thing? I don't need a GPS to guide the way or an air conditioner to make it more comfortable. Just the brakes, for fuck's sake.

For all you cats who know me, you probably have discerned that I'm a pretty timid guy, always looking for diplomatic and 'safe' solutions, never wanting to piss anybody off. As much as it's important for me to keep things level and comfy, and give people the respect they deserve...

...sometimes you gotta tell a fool straight up that he's a fucking fool without reservation.

Shattering my former delusions, I realized that you should never bend over backwards to keep on people's good sides and keep them on yours. Because before you know it, you've got your head between your legs and the view ain't pretty. And man is it ever exhausting; there is no respect in the end, and you just pass up a chance or two to cuss a fool the fuck out.

There are so many cats out there acting like surgeons, cutting everybody up like it's their job. As a concerned individual trying to perpetuate societal equilibrium, isn't it the responsibility of me and others like me to make sure these bitches are under the knife themselves once in awhile?

All this may come by surprise, and it sure as hell did to me. I stood up to somebody I've always rolled over for. Not rude, no hard talk, just the straight goods that let him know I was sick of his clowning and he would need to come up with some new tricks if he was planning on scaring me. I was surprised, but probably not as surprised as him.

Maybe I can thank/blame rap music for this sudden paradigm shift. I have been listening to a LOT of it this summer, and these past couple weeks, me and my best buddy Rob have been rolling to this stuff with a beer in hand for DAYS now.

While I don't relate too strongly with the glorification of the 'thug life' as a straight-laced suburban caucasian guy, I know why I like this stuff so much:

Aside from the obvious musical merits of a good rap song, a lot of these rappers/ballers/gangsters/whatever exude something that our generation wants. They are bloody fearless. They will say and do what they need to and aren't afraid to do it. They don't let the haters roll over them, they know what's up and how to keep it up there.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm gonna go ape on someone if they look at me funny, or start talking hard to protect myself against peeps who don't like me. But it IS a serious promise to have the self respect to burn the fools who play themselves up to get you down. They only do it because, like any drug, they've done it enough times and it felt good enough such that they won't stop.

I haven't been tested for yeaaaaaaaars, but I always worried about it.

Worry no more - I got a taste of not being afraid, and I wanna come back for more.

But don't panic, you can't function if you livin' in fear.
Pay attention, you gotta listen to hear.

Who the fk you think you talkin' to?
Put you on hold, get a specialist to walk you through.

Bangin' on the system, fighting my kinda war.
Loud as a whisper, quiet as a lion's roar.

Talib Kweli - Listen (check that shit! Too good!)

Sick of it all, not enough time, not enough room for mistakes. Feeling claustrophobic in this little room of high expectations, the walls of criticism closing in always. I hate this credentialist society, I hate what you need to do, just to keep from being invisible in this crazy world of money, titles and corporatism.

Tired of being the 'shining hope' of the Yun family, there's never permission for failure, no room for process. Everything is always a means towards some goal, where is the sense of intrinsic value in the process? The butterfly is nothing without a chrysalis...and yet, in this crazy world of mine, process means nothing and results mean everything.

I wanna bang on this fucking system, optimism is an old habit, and this one died hard. Sick of it all! Get me outta here!

Well, that's the end of that.

This is as much as I can can afford to say, let alone feel. Sometimes the only real way of coping with tremendous emotion is a kind of forced indifference - that manufactured detachment from an issue so that it can't interfere with other, more crucial spheres of your life.

Work, extracurriculars and friends (work especially) are sufficient such that one can drown in them - that's what I'll do, and it starts now.

If only I could stop tossing and turning at night.

-Kev-

"And there's no blame, for how our love did slowly fade.
Now that it's gone, it's like it wasn't there at all.
Here I rest, where disappointment and regret, collide.
Lying awake at night."

Death Cab For Cutie - Title and Registration

If my relationship with LiveJournal behaved anything like human relationships, LJ would have left me high and dry long ago on account of my frequent and unpredictable absences.

Which is probably more than I can say for my former readers.

Hello? Are you still there?

Well, if you are then no need to worry. If not, then you have even less reason to worry. All the same, I am alive and well on all accounts. In the dust behind me is a summer of fun and fulfillment that I am pretty happy to look back on.

There was a two week volunteer project in Ecuador, which really shaped my perspectives on the intrinsic value of simple lifestyles divorced from the confines of our corporate world. During our stay in the coastal village ofLas Tunas, we enjoyed the beaches lining the Pacific ocean, the simple pleasures of village life, and the uninhibited kindness and affections of the locals. Through a combination of broken Spanish (INFINITIVES ONLY), French words with a Spanishifying syllable at the end (like "oh"), and the occasional interpretive dance, I made some lasting connections with the locals there that I think only a language barrier can uniquely produce. Our group of nineteen from Western continue to keep in touch, and it is one of those things that I can't imagine not having done.

Not a moment after my return did I head back to Western for a six week International Politics course which was everything that a course on the subject should be. Two research papers and two essay exams later, and I emerge not only richer for the experience, but with (sadly) the ONLY mark above 80% of my entire University career. Who blows? Yeah, I'm inclined to agree. But an 88% got me in the self-motivating groove I need to keep my shizzle in order and get into bloody Law School.

Here's hoping, please keep all fingers, toes and other appendages crossed fo' me.

So after that, two weeks of chillage and some irresponsible behaviour, back to the academic grind - except this time of a different sort. To all my fellow music nerdies, I'm sure you will all unanimously cringe when I tell you that I took all the Grd. 4 theories at the same time, in a row. Those are all done - I learned a lot, and got to enjoy three weeks of thick Russian accent.

By mid-August, I finally had something resembling a summer at my disposal. Not missing a beat, I have since taken full advantage of what I consider to be unrestricted chill time. Plenty of time with Tiff is good for the heart, time with homies (though sadly not all of them) is good for the soul but often bad for the liver, and time with books is good for the brain.

Back to school on Aug. 29th, an early start to get ready for O-Week! Having a bunch of frosh to work with all year is gonna be real good.

Last but not least, it's almost time for me to stop abregating my moral responsibilities and start taking them more seriously.

Why? Nope, no epiphany, just the sheer fact that I am turning 20 (!!! omgz) on Aug. 25th. By virtue of numbers, I apparently have an age that I'm supposed to be acting to now. Here we go.

See you all real soon, hopefully before we all get back to the grind.

-Kev-

In the early morning hours after St. Patrick's day, Tiffany calls me from Toronto. She'd just finished her first day at the Ishskwaday conference - a conference that brought together our Native American brothers and sisters with other Canadians in a sharing of culture,
spirit...and faith.

"I know you'd love it, I think you should be here," she says.

She hardly needs to tell me. Ever since I wrote my Grade 12 ISU, 'The Plight of the Native American Indian', the salience of the injustices Native Americans have suffered at the hands of the federal government couldn't be ignored. Ever since European imperialism got its hooks into our shores, the history of the Native American people has been one of broken promises - the darkest chapter of our Canadian history that we exclude from our euphemistic history.

I have so much work to do that weekend - already behind, I didn't think it was possible.

And yet, half an hour later I had packed a bag and bought a Greyhound ticket at 4:00 in the morning. A split second decision produced what ended up being an imitable experience that will colour a part of my life forever.


‘Ishskwaday’(or, ‘fire’ in English) was a conference intended to dispel those common misconceptions of Nativity through an emphasis on the most profound commonalities we all shared: faith.

The two hundred attendees took part in seminars run by scholarly experts on the subject, University professors looking at the legal and economic contexts that underlie Native American issues. And then, there were experts of another kind.

Our own Native American brothers and sisters who in their deeply harrowing personal experiences of living on the reserves, have an experience and knowledge that transcend any University degree. One woman, Judy, laughed jovial laughs and cried bitter tears as she recalled her own bittersweet past against the backdrop of an Ontario reserve. These people are emotional dichotomies, contending with bittersweet realities. Their culture is warm and beautiful, but fraught with injustice at the hands of a government too busy balancing a budget and fighting deficit to make a difference.


Well, monetary deficits aside, I say that Canada is in an intractable ethical deficit of its own if we do not address the plight of those who really made Canada what it is.

Maybe you know what I mean.

Described now as Canada's Third World, the destitution of the reserves - the products of an intricate web of socio-economic factors, history, complacency, public ignorance and government exploitation - suffer from the chronic problems akin to the Third World we think only exists to the South. We don’t need to cross the Equator for that kind of poverty.

'Our children are all hurting inside,' Judy says. 'Our children are angry and they don’t know why.' She shook as she recalled the unprecedented police raid on her reserve; doors were kicked down, people taken arbitrarily to prison on unfounded suspicious, and a newborn baby separated from its mother. At the end of her story, the whole room suddenly fell into incredibly intense prayer, the kind where everyone is talking at the same time. I felt a little overwhelmed - part of me wanted to pray for Judy in my own way, but I couldn't hear myself anymore, only the voices of everyone else some whispering and some shouting. But I couldn't hear myself anymore, and that scared me a little. Of course, it was just something new, nothing to be scared of.


That was part of the experience - the seminar had a beautiful Christian and cultural focus. Many Native Americans have come to espouse Christian beliefs, and while I have always found this strange (ex. "Don't they have their own beliefs? Isn't this another awful perpetuation of eurocentric values?") I learned that Native American mythology, so rich in tradition and story, ultimately boils down to a single creator, but one they believe could not be personally known. This changes entirely with the introduction of Christian faith, through which a personal relationship with God is only a matter of opening one's heart.

The product was, bar none, the most powerful cultural and religious expression I have ever seen - a marriage of gospel and Native American dance. The most INCREDIBLE thing. A row of Native dancers in full splendor, stomped upon the earth as a drum pounded in the background; it was as if all there were as one, and the drum was the heart that beat for us all.

Today, in a culture where Native culture is so eclipsed and tucked in a corner...here was a new, invigorated expression of identity, one that paid homage to its traditional roots, and also embraced God in a marriage of modernity and tradition that I find really amazing.

Sixty of the two hundred were from reserves - they are beautiful people, so stoic and sincere...a promise is always implicit in their speech. There is a strength in the Native American people that we do not see - it does not receive news coverage, Hollywood does not turn it into films. We do not hold awards ceremonies for them, or run memorial features on television that remind us of that dark chapter in Canadian history that everyone prefers to forget.

I don’t ever feel justified in saying that my religion is a universal. But I do feel that it is through a common belief in our Lord Jesus Christ that hearts, minds and bodies could come together in that amazing union of souls that was Ishshkwaday.

Assumptions exist for us to challenge them. There is no time more crucial to withhold our assumptions about our Native brothers and sisters. The media relegates them to a culture of alcoholics and drug addicts – they are a ‘problem’. Has our government ever entertained the notion that their land was theirs, just as we now see it as ours?

I haven’t written about this for so long. I feel that most words are inert, they’re dead, so incapable of rendering our experiences in the light that they deserve. It’s only those choice words that are the real conduits for sincere and earnest expression…I hope I picked a few of the right ones.

-Kev-

"I think over again my small adventures
My fears, those small ones that seemed so big
For all the vital things I had to get and reach
And yet there is only one great thing
The only thing
To live to see the great day that dawns
And the light that fills the world."
-Unknown Inuit

An old acquaintance of mine, someone with whom I was friendly, shared some laughs and a few hugs, died on Monday in a motorcycle accident. I can't quite swallow that sad feeling, and yet, I take considerable comfort in the very strong belief that 'shaking off this mortal coil' is just a precursor to an experience that we cannot understand here on Earth.

Some people might think my sentiments are undue, foolish manufacturings to idealize away the cold, harsh reality of death. No, not for me. For me, it is a belief that endures everything that might happen to us during our mortal lives. I don't think the way I do just to shirk off the fact that when people die they become indetectable by our sensory faculties. If we still feel them, how can they be gone in the complete and utter sense that we so often associate with death?

If they are gone, mind, body, soul and all, what accounts for the part of them that remains within us and weathers the sands of time? Memories generally fade, but those which do not - THOSE are the ones that give testament to transcendent nature of people and their souls. I really think they are still 'here' - maybe not in the immediate temporal sense, but in a kind of way that one day we will all realize.

I'd like to think (and indeed, I do) that John Gillespie Magee's poem encapsulates that experience, that one day we will all enjoy.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds...and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of...wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up, the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew.
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space...
...put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

It is especially with Chrissy and Andrew's closest friends and family that my heart lies for the next few days.

I'll update another time. It was going to be today, but I changed my mind. I'm in London taking International Politics until the end of June, so I'll be back home then. Really looking forward to seeing everyone again.

More on my recent trip to Ecuador once pictures are in.
-Kev-

Cycling back through my various scattered entries, I realize how many times I have begun with that very contrived excuse explaining my lack of updates. That is because instead of leaving entries in a timely fashion as per NORMAL PEOPLE, I, true to form, take the RETARDED route and leave small novellas once every few months, stretched to the max and covering months worth of activity!

Every once in awhile, following sufficient harassment by friends, or my own need for self-expression...I bust out another entry. Sorry for the wait, I know I suck - I've already been told.

So, here in brief is a quick summary of the events that have transpired between today and whenever my last entry was - so long ago that I no longer remember when that was...and I generally have a pretty good memory. I will skip things that at this stage are of no consequence (ex. The time I got drunk and threw a road pylon onto the roof of my residence, various red-faced and culturally exclusive AZN parties, the time I was retarded, a slip and slide on my floor, HEH HEH etc.)...and focus rather on the things I feel are a little more defining.


1. In terms of school, I am learning in a wonderful way that is broadening my perspectives and nurturing the thinker in me. As far as performance goes, my average is bobbing at approximately 80%, and I can only hope it withstands the assault of my VERY SUBJECTIVELY MARKED Philosophy papers that will dictate 25% of my mark in three philosophy courses (Ethics/Religion/Early Modern). Not to mention an onslaught of notoriously difficult essay exams, which invariably leave one's pen hand permanently clenched from the strain. Well, that I suppose comes with the territory a Politics and Philosophy major has to occupy.

2. This semester, I joined the Dragonboat Team here at Western. Early morning gym practices and Sunday afternoon rowing sessions have left me with a newfound energy and chiselled body that my narcissistic self has always dreamed of. (Haha, just kidding!) The team is a solid bunch, and I've enjoyed some quality time in a casual social setting (namely, a Dragonboat Keg Party). Come June is the Toronto Dragonboat Festival, so we can put our training to the test. Whatever that may mean. While I never feel better than after a 7am 2-hour practice, certain 'external factors' have made my attendance a little inconsistent at times. It's my fault, but I think the lovely lady in my life can shoulder maybe a fraction of the blame...

3. Piano kicked its way into high gear, as a 30-minute adjudication coming up in April will determine whether I am fit to remain in my performance elective. While I have never played quite as I do now (thanks to a stellar piano professor) I feel my schedule is a little unsustainable at times, because piano ideally demands at least 2 hours a day - though my task-mistress teacher would have me play much much more. "You need to practice, for God's sake!" Yes.

3. Ishshkwaday! This was a Native American conference I attended a couple of weekends ago. This deserves an entire entry unto itself, and so I will reserve this for next week (I already have it saved in Word!)...but I want to tell you about perhaps the most pivotal experience I have enjoyed in a long, long time. Hope you're still interested.

4. THE COLDPLAY FREAKING CONCERT Jeez louise. I took a trip back to Toronto in the middle of the week to hear Coldplay perform at the Air Canada Center on March 23rd. Unbefreakinglievable. People condemn Coldplay on grounds that their sound is too similar over their albums so far. I am willing to concede that...but it is a sound that I LOVE. Once I find a place to upload my pictures...I will.

5. This Summer! Two summer University courses (politics/philosophy), piano lessons, Kung Fu, HOPEFULLY some sort of employment, catching up with old homedogs/cats, and a volunteer project in Ecuador! More about that one later.

6. Next year, I am very happy to go back to Delaware Hall as a residence soph! After a couple of meetings, I really feel as if we have a stellar team - a lot of strong individuals. An added bonus, of course (in addition to a exponentially better building) is that by some stroke of incredible fate, Tiffany has a position there as well! If you are coming to Western University next year...APPLY TO DELAWARE HALL, DAMMIT.

6. My heart has never been happier. It is the product of all kinds of influences, both on the outside and within, that produce that warm feeling that there is so much beauty in the world. I think it is music, school, my friends, my family, a new and growing understanding and relationship with God, and that wonderful (aka. drop dead talented brilliant super incredible) girl in my life that are fostering in me a kind of anticipation for the rest of my life that is always growing.

So hey, I hope all's well for the rest of you - I'm pretty sure we are super overdue, and I am notoriously bad when it comes to keeping in touch in the midst of school and schedules...but know that it is not for lack of interest, but for lack of time and a serious aversion to all things Internet! (ex. Facebook...jeez) I miss you guys plenty, and wanna hear from you!

-Kev-

"So you take a picture, of something you see.
In the future where will I be?
You could climb a ladder, up to the sun.
Or write a song nobody had sung
Or do something that’s never been done
Or do something that’s never been done."

**Author's Note: What follows is something I wrote in the immediacy of a certain moment. I was in love with a beautiful girl - as wonderful and scary as that can be - and trying to fix something that seemed to be broken. Something was wrong, and I was scared that I would have to learn exactly how one falls out of love before one is ready. As circumstances (fate, perhaps?) would kindly have it, I am no longer worried or scared, but still very much in love, and it appears that somehow...someone has learned to love me, too.

So, read what I feel is perhaps the most visceral, uncensored and cathartic expression of my feelings that I have ever put to paper/word processor. Keep in mind that all is now well, and that I think I am prepared to give love a name. We all have a different name for it, but love, to me, has grown synonymous with the name 'Tiffany.'**

They've always said that love knows no bounds. Everyone loves that saying because it rings so universally true to all our tender human hearts and our want for a little, just a little love.

I know and have seen that love transcends those formal boundaries and quantifiable differences that make us formally distinct (and sometimes enemies) - they all fall away. What remains is that union of hearts and souls that speak to all those things we commonly share.

Love traverses infinite distances, making Hong Kong feel right next to you instead of an entire continent away, making you feel right there with them, even though they are in another world, 13 hours out of sync.

Love is what makes the worst seem the best. Love is what makes 10 hours in class and the library all worthwhile, if love is what you have to come home to. Love is what makes sex bliss, and not just a mashing of bodies. Love is what compels you to be all you can. Love is what lets two people stare at each other for minutes on end without feeling silly. Love makes the dimness of all our uncertain futures seem so bright you can TASTE it.


God, how many things can we attribute to love? I don't have all day - do any of us?

Love is what I'm in.


I love you in that elusive way that all the actors cry about in the movies, except I'm not pretending.

I'm tired of poems and implied expressions and different ways of saying the same thing.

Let me say without censorship or literary craft or anything...

I. Love. You.

But baby, I think I need to get out. What we want can so violently contrast what is necessary.


Love is an ocean, and we've been at sea for some time now. The sun is always either rising or setting, the ocean is always calm and boat on which we ride is the most beautiful boat ever imaginable.

And yet - so paradoxically - I think the next port is where I get off, you need to go on without me.


I am getting off at the harbour of questions, to satiate my want to explore my spirituality, find faith, find a God to which I feel comfortable giving a name and giving myself to. You have found your answers, you have found that which speaks the loudest to you, you can go home to the harbour of infinite hope...and I am so happy for you. It's not everyone who can say they have someone who loves them as unconditionally as Jesus does. Maybe I will say that one day, I've yet to realize as you have. We're different like that. Too different, it seems, for you.

I know you are not proud to be with me, yet. I know you don't want to tell your friends who you love. I know you love me, but not with that sureness of heart that would make you want to tell everyone on the street that there is this boy in your life...

...the way I would about you.

You want me to see what you see, to have that faith that burns so strong within you. It must make no sense to you: "Why doesn't he see it? How can he not see when God's love is all around?"
I feel it at times, I do. I feel it on every occasion I'm in Church, or when I'm by myself by the lake, or sitting in a dark room at the piano with only my touch to guide where to go next. But I can't yet subscribe to a faith that requires me to denounce those of others. How can I do that? I have been in the world of ideas for so long. These things take time. Think about the way in which you built your faith. Time, right? Time, heart, soul - CONFUSION, right? These are all things through which I am only just beginning to wade.

Maybe my soul has been jaded, calloused, by years of philosophising, thinking and exploring...

...maybe if I had found God when I was younger, before I became such a tiresome thinker, then I would be right where you are.

Like Magellan in Pacific, I am still charting a spiritual sea of my own, looking at the stars scattered across the sky, trying to see what they all mean, and are telling me. I am slowly pushing forward in what is for me, uncharted territory.

In the meantime, I just want us to be in love - THAT to me, is the most self evident truth!!

Baby, don't burn our bridges because you believe something I have yet to discover.

PLEASE, DON'T DO IT.

If this is the only way, then I need to get off and watch you sail away ever closer towards the salvation that your faith promises. I know if anyone is to be saved, it is you. I am trying to find my own answers. I believe, but my beliefs are not yet specific, they are worldly. I WANT TO BELIEVE SOMETHING.

I want to ask you for time, for patience...
...I know you'd give it to me. You already are. You are holding on to a life raft of hope, that I will one day find what you have. I WANT TO, do I ever, for you I would do anything. Die, even - who would have thought.

But all your time and patience may be for naught. Maybe I will become spiritually promiscuous - dipping a little everywhere to satiate my need to understand and my inability to decide.

I know something is broken, and I'm trying to fix it. I wanna love you, but I don't know if I can.

I DON'T KNOW, my love, how could I know yet? I can't let you compromise that fundamental part of you over and over again - the part that so needs to be with a boy who can share your love for God, as you understand Him, the God you have come to personally know. Silencing that voice in you which speaks the loudest, just so you can stay with some washed up, spiritually defunct University boy. I can't let you do that.

I wish you could be unequivocally happy with me. If you can't...I don't know how either of us can be.

Just stay in love with me, please - I don't want to have to get off without you.

Everyone has to find a God they love. It would make it easier if you were there with me, right there next to me.

-Kev-

"Where do we go? Nobody knows.
I've got to say, I'm on my way down.
God, give me style and give me grace
God, put a smile upon my face

Where do we go to draw the line?
I've got to say, I've wasted all your time.
Oh honey, where do I go to fall from grace?
God put a smile upon your face.

When you work it out, I'm worse than you.
When you work it out I wanted to.
When you work out where to draw the line?
Your guess is as good as mine.

Where do we go? Nobody knows.
I've got to say, I'm on my way down.
God, give me style and give me grace
God, put a smile upon my face."

Coldplay - 'God Put A Smile Upon Your Face'

They know what's it's like.

I return by inexplicable compulsion to my Livejournal, after a long, LONG hiatus (one that probably has you all wondering if indeed I am still alive, or perhaps have died in a tragic breakdancing accident).

Though I say with considerable enthusiasm that I have found new excitement and expression in the art of (ed. SUBSTANDARD)breakdancing, I feel that I have succumbed to its namesake, and gone so far as to break MYSELF in the process on a regular basis.

Not one practice goes by in which I, without fail, manage to smoke my elbows, knees, hips, or even head (on the real doozies) off the hard tiled floors in the University Community Center here at Western, where the Western breakdancing team holds its weekly practices.

I've felt for some time now that breakdancing is a natural progression of my physical pursuits, having done martial arts my whole life, and, in Grade 9, grown very well versed in the 'professional art' of Dance Dance Revolution! I think, by virtue of this alone, I would be stupid not to. :)

Anyway, my evident lack of entries since August the 25th are not the product of disinterest or lack of inspiration for the craft of writing, but rather a sheer absence of time. Either that, or, when time is available, the compulsion to spend it in other and generally more productive ways.

All in all, what began as perhaps the most fruitful and fulfilling academic career of my entire LIFE (everything was perfect)...proved unsustainable. By the third week of Novemeber, I had suffered the proverbial burn out that everyone always talks about, but that I never took seriously and dismissed to the realm of 'people being to easy on themselves.'

I have never felt such pure and unmitigated satisfaction and self affirmation as I did between September and the end of November.

It was a time of exhilaration, the product of leading a life that is TRULY self actualized. It was a time of, at least as far as my standards go, almost mechanized productivity in which every minute of the day was used towards the pursuit of something good.

Whether it was meeting the next deadline, keeping on par with upcoming lectures, exploring my talents, practicing for a piano concert, or fulfilling my various extracurricular commitments...

...never have I felt more that this is the way I have always wanted to live.

And then came the (perhaps inevitable?) Productivity Slide - my predicament is best described in this particular economic term. A sheer burnout, a deevolution of everything I had worked towards this year. A nasty bout with bronchitis set me back two weeks (quite substantial), and forced me to delay two exams to a later date, pushing them on top of an inexorable tide of other deadlines and demands. I felt like there was no more time to learn, only to read.

Now HERE is the crux of this prevailing sense of unease that I have felt for some time.

Here:

In large part, all of us are students in pursuit of something.
For some, that something is merely a piece of paper that credits you a job opportunity. For others, it is the quantifiable results that prove you have been successful (marks and scholarships, and that sort of stuff).

From my perspective, though, my academic career is for the ultimate pursuit of acquiring knowledge and wisdom. What good, for instance, is a 90% on a Politics exam, when one is unable able to effectively comment and reflect upon the deeper issues of the material?

While I must say that I too hold marks as paramount for the purposes of setting a consistent standard of excellence for myself...

...I feel as if all I study here (Politics and Philosophy) are for naught, if I cannot acquire a TRULY rich and lucid knowledge of these brilliantly fascinating things that I'm here to study.

I feel as if I am making a mockery of the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. No, now I am in pursuit of a mark - say, my next paper or my next exam. No longer does time permit for the developement of a knowledge that is truly lucid.

I now work for transient knowledge that will serve me on an exam, while sacrificing the kind of knowledge that will serve me for the rest of my life.

This is when it feels like a compromising of my intellectual integrity for the sake of saying I did well on an exam.

This is when it ceases to feel worthwhile.
Is this a feeling to which you can relate?

Don't get me wrong, I understand that the demands of University are to acclimatize young adults to the rigors of the professional world, and that learning is of course a process, and that lucidity only comes with time and effort - both of which I will readily commit.

I guess once all's said and done - once my papers are in and my exams written - I come away feeling a little frustrated. No longer is my sense of satisfaction dictated by a place on that VENERABLE HONOUR ROLL like it was in High School. Success was so much more visible back then...oftentimes it drove people to succeed simply for the sake of having people KNOW that they did it.

I no longer feel that need for validation from the external. I now can only procure that sense of self from within.

That's why I feel so frustrated, right now.

Also, I hope all your hearts are well. I trust of course that they are in good WORKING order, but I hope your hearts are in spiritual good health as well.

I will write shortly about my own heart, which recently has been privy to a veritable treasure trove of experiences. There is a beautiful girl in my life who conjures within me that feeling that everyone calls 'love'. I don't think the word alone can suffice. It is the feeling of inexorable happiness that comes when you are infinitely happy and you know it's not going anywhere. It is the feeling that inexplicably pulls me from the depths of whatever rut I faced before, and inspires me to be all the things I am certain I can be.

It has left me with a warm feeling inside for weeks, ever since it happened...and just as quickly left me at one time with a lump in my throat, as if I'd taken a drink from the Stream of Love and swallowed a pebble on the way.

But that's to be had - one of the universals of our human experience, right?

And after all, what remains now is happiness. I break the bonds of this life-by-calendar and emerge into brave new world with such a remarkable girl in it.

See you all at Christmas, we're way overdue, aren't we! Ye-Ah.
-Kev-

P.S. Forgive this ridiculously disjunct entry - sometimes you just have to write without censorship.

"I feel safe, I feel warm, when you're here, when I do no wrong.
I am cured, when I'm by your side, I'm alright, I'm alright." (have you ever felt that way before?)
Coldplay -'Careful Where You Stand'

Today I emerge into a new realm of privilege and responsibility. I am now perceived under the law, by society, my peers, my family, and the government as a fully independent and autonomous individual that is completely accountable for his own actions and prepared to accept both the fruits or the consequences of his decisions.

I no longer have to turn down invitations to go clubbing, or refrain from consuming alcohol with reckless abandon.

I am now expected to behave in a manner befitting someone who, overnight, has made the transition from youth to early adulthood. I have a University career to manage, ambitions to pursue, and a life to build with all the vigor and passion that I think I should have at my age. While qualities such as exhilaration, passion, excitement, idealism, optimism, etc. are often associated more with the young (I'm sure we've all heard the expression: "You are still young" with reference to say, optimism as a naive quality of youth), these are qualities that I refuse to abandon as I come of age.

In short, I turned nineteen today!

Wish me a happy one if you drop by.

My parents and I are still in Vancouver, and are taking a one day trip to Victoria, BC's capital, where my Dad - who'd have thought - is going to hook me up with a cigar and a drink to the style in which HE turned nineteen. YES.

Our trip has been fantastic so far, the month of August has really been something else. In two days, we leave for Whistler, and I return on August the 30th.

I know I"m long overdue with a lot of my friends, so we'll see each other then!
-Kev-

"Why do we dream in metaphors, when peace is our one salvation?"

My last night in Calgary - I know that now, at 3:30am it's my last morning, but until the darkness bleeds daylight, it's still night for me.

Looking forward to so much, yet leaving so much behind. Nine days to remember forever - of friends become family - and a single night to redefine a great many things for me.

If beauty is the inner quality that makes outward appearance irresistible, then I am leaving behind a beautiful girl - three provinces due West.

If a kiss is a passionate exchange of mutual affection, an acknowledgement of the beauty in her and in me, then I shared a kiss with someone tonight.

If intimacy is a physical closeness that reflects an emotional affinity between two people, then that's what we had tonight.

If to miss someone is to write about them only moments after you last parted, then I miss someone dearly.

So, I kissed an irresistibly beautiful girl tonight, and I miss her dearly. The cruel expanse of three provinces is the intraversible land bridge that keeps us from being together.

Call me a fool in love, call me a melodramatic, I don't care. The subjective character of MY experiences is what makes them important, what make them my own, what put them in the context of my own life.

-Kev-
"Let's take a breath, jump over the side. How can you know it if you don't even try?"
Coldplay - 'What If'

Departure:Pearson Airport - 7:00AM, August 11th [Toronto time]
Arrival:Calgary Airport - 9:00AM August 11th [Calgary time]

Needless to say, I am in Calgary, indulging in the youthful freedoms that the past three months did NOT permit (thanks to summer courses). Now that my more pressing commitments are over and done with, I took the liberty of taking my first trip out West, where I am spending a HARDCORE nine days with RISHI my former roommate and his friends. His buddies are, in true Rishi-fashion, fun-loving class acts of their own, which is pretty tight as far as I am concerned. Though I've spent only a day here, I've no doubt that the next week and a half will go down in the annals of 'kick ass summer vacations.' The air in Calgary is remarkable clean. I haven't taken a REAL breath of air in a long time. The clean air and pristine mountains, once but a distant memory of better times in Switzerland, are a welcome reality once more. Calgary has a flavour of its own, an ambience - every city has one. In spite of mild jet lag, compounded by a 4am rise and a 2am fall, I've never felt more energized in the face of so much opportunity. This is how my summer is supposed to end!

A Vague Itinerary: (aka, 'what the fuck we intend to do')
i) Eight hour drive to Osoyoos (Uncle's private observatory, from the vantage point of the Anarchist Mountain, part of the Rocky Mountains.
ii) Shooting (Rishi has firearms)
iii) Paintballing
iv) Sitting passenger side in a private plane commandeered by my ROOMMATE PILOT (!!!)
v) Three-day camping excursion near Invermere, BC
vi) Chill time at Conor's cabin
vii) A measure of (unmeasurable?) alcohol abuse
viii) Cameo appearance at Rishi's rugby practice (looking forward to getting my nuts stamped on as per Rishi)
ix) Acquaintance with the fine folks of Calgary (ex. Meaghan, Conor, Joanne, Bryant, Goran, Stephanie and co.)
x) Summer nights in suburban Calgary + getting into all sorts of trouble with reckless abandon



To boot, I leave for Vancouver on the 20th where my parents and I are meeting for a long-overdue family vacation. And on the 25th of August, I will be taking my first tentative footsteps into a wide and wonderful adulthood (my nineteenth!) With the age will certainly come new territory, obligations and expectations. I can only hope that wisdom will follow, I'd like to think I've been cultivating in ME, the characteristics of those I admire. Like I've always said, the irreducible question remains: 'Do I have a good heart?'


This is just what I need
This is what I'm talking about.
This is that fundamental teenage experience I've felt has been so absent all summer long.

Stay safe, talk to you soon. I'll post some pictures shortly.
-Kev-

Birds go flying at the speed of sound, to show you how it all began.
Coldplay - 'Speed of Sound'

UNMITIGATED, SPONTANEOUS, IRREPRESSIBLE, IRREVOCABLE, IRREFUTABLE, EMPOWERING (makes me feel on top of the world), DISEMPOWERING (just as it makes me feel helpless sometimes), INTOXICATING, MADDENING, TRANSIENT, INSPIRING,

...what are all these misplaced adjectives describing.

INFATUATION, that's what.

Turn my veritable world upside down why don't you? Who am I kidding, I enjoy the ride, kind of like a Wonderland coaster that never loses its novelty.

Let my heart be still for two seconds, gosh.

Sometimes people have a way of being so terribly attractive in all the right ways.

-Kev-

Afterword:
I have a strong feeling this post will be consigned to the realm of deleted posts.

Two weeks ago, on a stifling Thursday afternoon, underground.


I sit in the subway, whisking me Westbound towards Islington station through that linear network of underground tunnels, the lights all a blur like shooting stars that feel their place is under the earth, not in the sky. Maybe nature and architecture are getting confused, so that they end up getting mixed up with one other. If we have satellites amongst the stars, then couldn't we have stars underground? Maybe the stars know the sky is doomed, and in their despair, fall to earth where they weep bitter tears of illumination to remind us what we're destroying. Maybe it is in fact a sad thing when a star feels its place is on Earth and not in the sky. We are so taken with the beauty of a fallen star, "It's so magical," we say. But maybe that's just a value judgment, like so many conclusions we make.

"THAT, is justice." [really?]
"THAT is absolute." [really?]
"THAT is good music." [really?]
"THIS is imperfect." [really?]
"THIS is democracy." [really?]


Just another subjective presupposition, right?

The seats buzz with an electrical hum as the train lurches forward (the only direction it can go, really), the car shakes in a rhythmic pulse as the wheels roll over the tracks, and it feels like I'm riding a monstrous mechanical steed galloping through the darkness.
'
Keele station is next, Keele." I know that voice - that dull monotone that even in its lack of expression, is so very telling. The conductor, just as the train he or she drives, is consigned on one of two roads. Eastbound or Westbound, Northbound or Southbound, neither of which are truly 'forward' or 'backward.' There is no room for existentialism in those underground tunnels of determinism.

Do you think that being a train operator is a little like being trapped? Truly, aren't so many walks of life a kind of entrapment? Couldn't you even have EVERYTHING you ever wanted and still feel trapped because...


...your pockets are full but your spirit is empty, or because...

...your assets are big but your are small inside, or because...

...you know what love is but would never dare to try it for yourself, or because...

...you know who you are, but not who YOU are or because...

...you can't say: "I have a good heart," without staring at your shoes or fidgeting with your sleeves.


I don't want to let myself be trapped in little self-contained systems of

callousness,
cynicism,
apathy,
knowing-everything (too busy knowing to learn),
egocentricism...

...and all those things that inhibit the very nature of the human spirit, that we say makes us so different from animals. And yet, I see so much of it everywhere (*amidst PLENTY of good, though!*) that I wonder if perhaps it is easier to perpetuate those self-destructive habits and lead that repressive lifestyle than it is to turn, say...

apathy into action,
cowardice to bravery,
cynicism into understanding,
egotism into altruism,
disparity to equity.

I'd like to see more of that.
***

When you think a great deal, you forget where you are, and just then, I forgot I was on the subway.

The subway comes to a stop, it is full of people, and yet more push in, like a lifeboat in a stormy sea. All the seats are full. An elderly woman steps in, searching the aisles in vain for a place to rest. Like my Mom always taught me, (and surely, as human nature would have it), I asked for her to please take my seat.

"It's no fun to stand," I say.

This woman, her wizened features telling of a wisdom that only comes with age, says: "No thank you, I shall be getting off shortly," in a kind of refined speech that we don't really hear so often anymore!

She leaned very close and said: "I have three grandchildren. They live in America, where manners are perhaps not so closely observed as they are here. They feel very grown up now, and they would sooner see a pregnant woman stand for an entire bus ride than give up their seats."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I said: "Maybe it's just one of those things of youth - respect sometimes comes with age, and I think if they are anything like you, they'll realize it too." (it sounded right, though I can only hope it's true)

We chatted briefly, she asked about what I was doing, with a kind of sincerity that I think is really particular to a lot of old people who have been here so much longer than the rest of us. Maybe it's because I have grandparents that I love, maybe it's because I'm studying age and perceptions of the elderly in Sociology...maybe it's because of that burning want I have inside for equality, everywhere...

...but all that I could think about was how sad that a woman with such a respect for people cannot find the same from her own grandchildren. To the EXTENT that she feels compelled to tell a complete stranger.

You know you feel strongly about something when you tell it to a stranger.

She got off the train, and we exchanged a quick 'have a nice day, you too, I will.'

No sooner did the train start moving again, that a man across the train leans over, his moustached face and beige polo shirt reaching across the aisle from the other side:

"You know, the human spirit is a seed that you can plant. When you reach out to someone, you are planting a seed and perhaps it will grow within them. I think you just planted a seed." We talked about the human spirit, and the way it seems so characteristic of people to supress it, and so, we never reach out to each other or share in an exchange of human essence that is SO IMPORTANT. He wore a government ID badge, which when I asked about it, he quickly shoved in his pocket. "My profession does not really represent my education," he said with a furtive glance to the ground. This man has studied at six Ontario Universities, and our conversation suggested he was a very, very intelligent man - the kind you admire simply for their well-rounded perspective, so free of pretense and absolutes because NOTHING IS ABSOLUTE.

I wanted to say: "Don't be ashamed, what is there to be ashamed of? People work jobs with seven-figure wages and don't do things like what you just did," but he got off before I decided to say it.

Though he was talking about me, he too planted a seed that day.

Doesn't this sound so absurdly contrived and ridiculous?

It wasn't, that's why I felt it needed expression. You know, the way we want to express those things that you don't feel justified keeping in silence? Those things.

I have lots of seeds to plant, and I think there are a lot inside me that want to grow.

I'm really glad for that one trip on the subway.

Have you planted some seeds, lately? Have you found some growing, maybe? Tell me about them, tell me so we can keep planting and maybe we'll have a tree someday.


-Kev-
"You and me, are floating on a tidal wave. You and me, are drifting into outer space."
Coldplay - X & Y