Want to meet me for lunch?

Think again.

I can pretty much guarantee that you're not going to show up (even if you wanted to).

I'm cursed you see.

This tragic and mysterious curse was reaffirmed today when I tried to meet my friend Tom to take pictures over the lunch hour. We established time, location of meeting. We even confirmed our attendance via email before departing. And yet somehow we missed each other. How is that even possible? I wasn't hiding. I had 360 degree views of who was approaching. But then five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, twenty five minutes passed and there was no sight of Thomas. There was no commotion in the two block stretch from his office (my overactive imagination immediately leaps to something dramatic when I'm left waiting too long). There could be no confusion as to where we were meeting (that I can think of, there's only one statue of Churchill in Churchill Square right?). I'm perplexed. I'm less than impressed but I don't know who or what to blame. I should just not try to meet people at lunchtime. The world is conspiring against me. Forces want me to lunch alone. Even if I had remembered my cellphone today this situation couldn't have been avoided, for you see, Tom has no cellphone. Similarly, the last time the lunch curse actualized I didn't have the cell number of the person I was supposed to meet. At the time I chalked it up to poor planning on my part, but now I realize that it was the lunch curse all along.

After turning down an invitation to go to Hawrelak Park for a little bbq because I had some freelance work to do, I caved and went for a walk, albeit a shortened one. On the way to the High Level I saw a 40ish year old man learning to ride a bike (either that or he was drunk), on the bridge a woman whizzed by on roller skates wearing knee high socks and massive knee pads. She looked like she was on her way home from roller derby. On my way back across the bridge the world's oldest rollerblader flew past in the opposite direction. He was very stylish and was even wearing a tie-dyed bandana, folded and wrapped around his head like the Karate Kid. He had to be at least 70. I saw him yesterday as well. His outfit last time was definitely more neon and matched his bandana. Finally, as I passed the First Baptist Church on 109th a fellow who looked like Slugworth from Willy Wonka strolled past me with a briefcase. The resemblance was uncanny. The glasses, the suit, the greedy look in his eyes. I searched frantically for Charlie and his golden ticket, but he was nowhere to be found.

That is all. I'm back now and must get some work done before I go to bed.

I wouldn't say it's a new realization of mine to say that I'm a little bit socially awkward. I eventually improve upon further acquaintance, but it takes real effort on my part to be charming. My natural inclination is to quietly observe and I have had to train myself to get out and interact. I like socializing in controlled situations, which is probably why I like to use letters as a socialization tool. I only have to worry about the impact of my words, not my state of dress, my fidgety mannerisms or my furtive glances.

But even I get tired of socializing from behind a wall. Sometimes even I want to get out. And that's exactly what I've been up to. No more anti-social butterfly. I'm pushing my limits, I'm doing things that I might ordinarily avoid. I'm accepting that there is a modicum of discomfort involved in meeting new people. Besides I'm better equipped to deal with feeling uncomfortable these days. I've long since gotten over my irrational fear of talking to grocery store clerks and when forced I can extend this ability to make ridiculous small talk with new people I meet. But for the past few years I've been able to hold on to a bit of my snobbery. I think it's time to let go. I figure now is about as good a time as any to start socializing. New friends don't always show up on your doorstep. Sometimes you have to show up on theirs.

And this is how on Friday night I ended up a few blocks from home, playing Trivial Pursuit and cards with a group of near strangers (roundabout connection here - friends of a friend of a friend) and then going to see a reggae cover band. Those closest to me will not be surprised by my playing Trivial Pursuit (I love it and will play it to the death), nor will they be all that taken aback by my going to see a reggae band (I have the Trini connection after all), but many will be shocked that I played cards. I almost never play cards. In fact, I think the last time was back in 2005 when Wade and I made dinner for his card shark parents and I was guilted into playing (I have a feeling we played Crazy 8s or something like that). Usually when people break out the cards I abstain, stating sarcastically that playing cards is against my religion. Or rather, more specifically, that cards are the work of the devil. But the sad truth is that I get extremely nervous playing cards, particularly when games involve counting. Not really sure why, since I had a certain flair for numbers once in my life (and I'm not a complete dunce now). But even as a bright young thing my mathematical prowess caused a great deal of stress. Having to quickly process numbers reminds me of the horrors of mad minutes... the gut-wrenching suspense of flying through those rows of addition, subtraction, multiplication, division... Oh the fear of being wrong. The shame attached to it. I was a bit of a perfectionist. I needed to best my classmates. I needed to best my siblings. This is part of the reason why I avoid cards. If I don't play then I can't make mistakes and I can't lose. No wrong, no shame. But I have a new rule now. If asked, I will play. Which is what I did on Friday. It did help that I got to play Trivial Pursuit first, and although I did not win that game either, I did appear to be somewhat knowledgeable offering the correct answers for what were seemingly impossible to answer questions. Also, being among strangers, I couldn't get away with my usual refusals without appearing both snobbish and odd. And isn't my new socialization strategy about accentuating the opposite of those qualities?

I will admit that I was about to go home after we had finished playing games. Ordinarily this would have been the obvious choice for me, returning home to the comfort and and security of my computer screen. But I'm tired of being at home. And it was not as if I was venturing out totally alone.

Most people had their opportunity to get accustomed to bar life when they were young and foolish. I did not. At the time when the rest of my peers were out kicking up their heels I was going to bed - my body still adjusting to the aftermath of its anaemic episode. I would get ready to go out but I would crash by 11 o'clock. Can't really say that I missed much, but when I finally started going out to clubs I had to deal with that lack of familiarity and ease of socialization that others seemed to so easily possess. Yes, I realize that many people are using liquor as a method to lower their inhibitions, but there are still others who are able to just ease into the scene without feeling uncomfortable and out of place. And when I walked in the bar I felt both those things. But I steeled my nerves and together with my friend Alesha, we made our way through the crowd, following the heads of the two fellows who we were accompanying. We had to push our way through throngs of muscly overtanned men as well as the odd couple in the throes of very public displays of affection (one such memorable couple was leaned up against the bar and they were softly licking each others' faces. It was very gross). By the time the band started playing I had adjusted to the bar. I was committed to having a good time and part of having a good time is allowing yourself to relax enough to enjoy yourself. So I cautiously made my way out into the middle of the dance floor (awkwardly clutching my jacket which I didn't feel like checking) . At first I was too close to the speakers and anticipating leaving the bar with my hearing slightly dulled I shifted ever so slightly, centering myself and allowing for a more even distribution of sound. The band was fantastic and not at all what I was expecting. It didn't take much for me to loosen up enough to start dancing. Being in the middle of the crowd was more pleasant than I anticipated. The panel of lights shone out from behind the band and when I looked at the floor, the swaying feet and legs in front of me were back lit with alternating hues of blue and green. I longed for my camera at that moment. Some people clearly had no sense of rhythm, like the fellow in the navy blazer who was channeling Elaine Benes on the dance floor. I longed for a video camera at that moment. Some people had no sense of style, like the woman who was busting out of her dress. I long to have the memory of her bad fashion decision erased from my mind.

Overall, I'm inclined to deem this evening of socialization a success. I hope there will be more evenings like it during the rest of the summer. I really am tired of the old routine. I would like some variety.

This will not be a post about how I enjoy long walks on the beach. No, this is a more general post where I wax lyrical about my love of ambulatory movement. It's no secret that I like to go for long walks. My 20 minute walk to work is too short sometimes. It seems to end just as I'm beginning to enjoy myself. Walking is the most natural way to start off my morning. This solitary pedestrian journey has been my routine for almost my entire life, with a few short breaks when I was in high school and I would carpool with a couple of my friends and in university when I took the proletariat chariot (although all of these trips still began and ended with a little bit of walking). Recently I've taken to a post work stroll across the river and back. It's probably incorrect of me to classify my walk as a stroll, because I like to walk fast and my pace could hardly be described as a leisurely stroll or even a saunter. I walk with purpose and conviction, even if I'm not really sure on my direction.

At work we are in the midst of a pilot project to log our daily commuting choices in an effort to somehow promote the use of sustainable transportation modes (one of A's projects). This morning as I dutifully logged into the website to document my 1.62km commute, I began to wonder how far I have actually been walking every evening. A few quick clicks in Google Maps and I quickly discovered that I walk just over 10km a night. I figure that's pretty reasonable. I could easily double that, but then my night would be filled with solitary ambulation. I realize that I might have what is considered a walking addicition (not unlike a runner's high). I don't think it's a bad thing. But I have to worry sometimes that this urge for animal locomotion might take over, and that double pendulum motion which propels me might take control, not unlike Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale of the red shoes (good thing I forgot my red shoes in Trinidad).

There is of course one thing that will stop me in my tracks (heyO). That is of course a photo opportunity. And let me tell you my friends that the world is full of them. It is impossible to document all of them of course, which is why I often leave my camera at home when I go out for my daily constitutional. However, on Sunday evening I left the apartment with the express purpose of taking photos.

I wandered through the familiar streets of Oliver, making my way to Victoria Promenade, looking very touristy with my camera slung around my neck. I carried two lenses with me (the 50mm and 17-40) to provide me with a little bit of variety in my shots.

Sometimes I feel like I'm cheating a bit with photography. It's so easy to think that it's the camera that is doing so much of the work. But then I have to acknowledge that the camera doesn't assist me with composition, the camera doesn't know when to take a photo. It doesn't wait for a breeze to start or stop, or a cloud to move by. It doesn't know where to stop on the street, how to move back four or five paces to better frame a shot.

This was my favourite shot of the evening. If you follow my photostream at all, you will know that I have a minor fascination with looking up at buildings, particularly how this perspective accentuates how a building would vanish if it were any taller. I also find that looking up at buildings, removing them from their horizontal context (how they are tied to the ground) makes me look at the lines of a building differently. I love the abstract patterns of shadow and repetitions of windows. And as two of my friends pointed out, in this shot the reflection in the windows create a false continuity, as if the apartments themselves were filled with the sky.

Oh, what a beautiful dreamer am I. Time to pull my head out of the clouds.

Today I found myself continuously laughing about the most random and ridiculous things. On my way to work it was the pile of purple blossoms that blew across my path in a beautiful tumbleweed sort of fashion. Once at my desk, when I complained about being cold on some social network that shall remain unnamed, I was amused when it was suggested to me that I fashion a coat out of scrap paper from the recycling bin. Then during my first meeting of the day I found myself startled by some tiny pears growing on the tree in my colleagues office. Then I found myself eagerly anticipating his engineer's ring going *ting against his coffee cup. In my second meeting, I found it comical the way all of the chairs kept on getting lodged under the table. At lunch I laughed uproariously at the story of a friend being caught changing out of his bike clothes by his coworker. I laughed again at another story of an octogenarian celebrating her ability to still pick-up men after asking a friend of mine to help escort her to a waiting car. In the afternoon I chortled silently following a really ridiculous email exchange involving disc golf, tennis whites and potential thievery. After work I went for one of my lengthy strolls across the river, around, and back again... and all along the way I caught myself with this smirk on my face, as if I knew of a joke that no one else did. Which in a way I did. I must have looked quite odd. The drivers in rush hour traffic must have thought I was laughing at them in their misery. But really I was just thinking about things that were surely funny only to me.

When I returned home I finished knitting this. I was considering wearing it tomorrow, but I don't know what I'd wear it with. It doesn't really look like good dress weather anyhow. Maybe I'll just give in and wear jeans like the rest of the sheep.

In other news I discovered that yet another close friend will be out of town for my birthday (one month away today!). Now I'm just waiting now for my sister to tell me that she's going to some poetry/emo music symposium that weekend. Come on people, find more ways to try and disappoint me.

Really can't sleep tonight. So I'm looking up definitions of insomnia instead. Some read like they are answers in Balderdash.

• Zdravko "Insomnia" Georgiev (born 10 September 1983) is a Bulgarian professional gamer. He is known mostly for his competitive performance and achievements in the real-time strategy computer games Starcraft: Broodwar and Warcraft III, his work for the international progaming team SK Gaming and ...
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(pro-gamer)
• Insomnia is a novel written by Stephen King and first published in 1994. Like It and Dreamcatcher, its setting is the fictional town of Derry, Maine.
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(novel)
• Insomnia is a techno song by the German techno group "Nightwatchers".It a very well-known techno song, and is considered by many to be Nightwatcher's signature song.
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(Nightwatchers_song)
• Insomnia is an album by American punk rock band Hed PE. Released on July 17, 2007, it peaked at #16 on the Top Independent Albums chart, and at #138 on the Billboard 200. Hed PE has cited thrash metal bands such as Slayer as an influence on the album's musical style.
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(Hed_PE_album)
• "Insomnia" is a song recorded by British dance group Faithless. Released as the band's second single, it became one of their most successful. It was released in 1995 and became a hit in Dance Charts while peaking at #27 in the UK in 1995 and #3 in 1996 . ...
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(Faithless_song)
• Insomnia is a Rock band based in Kolkata, West Bengal. The band's repertoire includes both English and Bangla songs. The band has an album each in English (Cry of the Spirit - self released) and Bangla (Proloyer Shomoye - Asha Audio). ...
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(rock_band)
• Insomnia is a 1997 Norwegian film about a police detective investigating a murder in a town located above the Arctic Circle. The detective arrives in the summer, during the midnight sun, and suffers from insomnia. It was the film debut of director Erik Skjoldbjærg. ...
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(1997_film)
• Insomnia is the soundtrack album for the 1997 Norwegian film Insomnia, which was composed by ambient artist Biosphere. The tone of the album is much darker in places than Geir Jenssen's earlier work, such as in the tracks "Field" and "Quay".
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(album)
• "Insomnia" is a song by Feeder, released as the second single from their album Yesterday Went Too Soon. It reached #22 in the UK charts and was at the time Feeder's fourth consecutive single to reach the Top 40.
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(Feeder_song)
• "Insomnia" is Craig's first single to be taken from his new "Greatest Hits" album.
  en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia_(Craig_David_song)

Sick

'I cannot go to school today, '
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play! '

Shel Silverstein

I realize I seem very "Hey World, feel sorry for me I'm sick!" but it's really only because I'm quite bored and lonely. I would like to be entertained but everyone is busy. So I amuse myself with these random musings. As I wait for my body to heal itself, I'm taking this opportunity to explore the photographic documentation of my non-serious illnesses over the past several years. The photos go back to 2005 although I seem to be missing any sort of photos from 2007. I realize that I did not always take photos of myself when I was sick, but I think it's a bit odd for that entire year to not have any images. I'm not sure what initially prompted this photo documentation of sickness. Like now, I think I must have been bored and I was tired of sleeping, didn't have anything to watch, couldn't concentrate on reading (or had already finished a book like I did today), I'd probably already written emails to everyone I knew, blogged about being sick, made the mistake of thinking that because my mind was active then I must be ok, but when I would try to actually return to normal activity I would quickly realize that no, I was still sick. What would be left? Clearly my camera was the only remaining option (and by extension of that, Flickr!).

So let's go for a quick trip back in time, stopping in to visit only when I'm a little bit wheezy and a little bit sneezy.

April 2009
Quite rotten. During the early part of the swine flu hysteria. Coworkers hissed at me and wore crosses to ward me off.

December 2008
Very bad indeed. I don't think I moved much from that position.

October 2008


Started out as a prolonged headache, but progressed to such a point that I was too weak to use my SLR and started using the webcam instead.

February 2008

Particularly memorable. I traveled to Saskatoon with some friends. I got sick on the way down, ended up spending 7 hours in emergency, but not for me. No, my friend decided she was going to one up me and passed a kidney stone. I was very supportive however and stayed with her the whole time. That night I had a fever and couldn't move until 1pm the next day. It was grand.

November 2006

No recollection of this time.

November 2005

When I am ill I sometimes wish I could return to a state of infancy. I can no longer handle solid foods, I like to be swaddled in blankets and nestled close to a beating heart (although these days I would prefer that beating heart to be behind a nicely muscled chest rather than a soft and pillowy one). Alas, only two of these things are possible at the moment. I have soup to solve my inability to eat solid foods and I have copious bedding with which to wrap myself up in (although it's a bit too hot for that today). If someone wants to lend me a muscled chest for an hour or two I wouldn't complain. My hair, although a bit disheveled is very silky and lovely to pat.

Oh ho ho.

My one consolation is that being sick has not stripped me of my bitter sense of humour. That I keep with me from cradle to grave. From womb to tomb.

I've updated the template once again in an effort to clean up the overall look of the blog. My categorization of posts has always been sporadic, and quite frankly the labels don't really add anything. So I got rid of the drop down labels and well as the drop down archive menu in the header, replacing them with links to the other sites that I infrequently update. I added a sidebar for the archives. I might redo the header sometime soon, but probably not tonight. I'm surprised I accomplished as much as I did tonight. But then fever makes us do strange things. In my case it makes me oddly productive on my blog.

Every so often I go through these periods of intense verbosity. If I open my mouth to breathe, it is likely that a word or six might slip out. I used to attribute this affliction to sitting quiet and serene all day, vocally isolated in my cube, unable to talk about the things I want to talk about. So, of course, at times like these I tend to write instead. Of course I have to hold off until appropriate times - when I have some sort of union sanctioned break - but when those moments come I dive into the pool of words in my mind and swim furiously through them, slicing through sentences, kicking up a frothy mess of ideas behind me. I think I frighten some people with my verbal onslaught. Not everyone knows what would be an appropriate response. And there is of course no appropriate response. I will keep on writing, I will continue talking, I will be continually processing. I'm not going to pretend to be something I am not.

I read a great article the other day by Sam Anderson in New York Magazine entitled, In Defense of Distraction. One of my dear and darling friends had shared the article on Facebook with a tongue-in-cheek sort of comment asking for a summary of this 8 page piece on how we have short attention spans and don't read long articles anymore. My interest was of course piqued and I was not disappointed. I'm constantly battling my inner demons when it comes to social media and the pull I feel between real life and online interactions. Are new communications technologies hindering our real work or providing new opportunities for both personal and professional growth? Are we being distracted to the point that everything we do is trivial? I liked Anderson's perspective on this challenge of distraction, particularly his introduction.

It's just too late to retreat to a quieter time. Our jobs depend on connectivity. Our pleasure cycles - no trivial matter - are increasingly tied to it. Information rains down faster and thicker every day, and there are plenty of non-moronic reasons for it to do so. The question, now, is how successfully can we adapt.

I like to think I'm a discerning individual. I don't read all of the links that people post on facebook, I may not read every RSS feed that pops up in Google Reader throughout the day. This is no different than my selection of what magazines to read, what tv shows or films I choose to watch, or what I choose to take photographs of. What I do is inherently my choice - and I choose to do things that I feel are of some value to me. I like to create links between the things I am doing, the information I am digesting. I would hope that other people think this way too, because these linkages are fascinating. A teacher of mine once said, everything is interconnected, a statement that has stayed with me for the past ten years. Everything is interconnected is sort of like my pair of rose coloured glasses through which I view the world. I take conversations and connect them with books or articles I've read, videos I've watched. Perhaps this type of thinking is a result of growing up with technology (as John Seeley Brown describes as multi-processors who think in a hyperlinked fashion (not linear)). However, as much as I am willing to attribute the way I think to the technologies I grew up using, I think that my eagerness to draw links between things has always been a part of me. I've always been prone to distraction. Distraction - that is - the ease of which I will take off on some tangent of thought, is part of my creative process. As Anderson writes,

The most famous moment in all of Proust, the moment that launches the entire monumental project, is a moment of pure distraction: when the narrator, Marcel, eats a spoonful of tea-soaked madeline and finds himself instantly transported back to the world of his childhood. Proust makes it clear that conscious focus could never have yielded such profound magic: Marcel has to abandon constraints of what he calls "voluntary memory" - the kind of narrow, purpose-driven attention that Adderall say, might have allowed him to harness - in order to get to the deeper truths available only by distraction. That famous cookie is a kind of hyperlink: a little blip that launches an associative cascade of a million other subjects. This sort of free-associative wandering is essential to the creative process; one moment of judicious unmindfulness can inspire thousands of hours of mindfulness.

Beautiful. I couldn't agree more. I felt somehow vindicated after reading this. As if all my thoughtful wanderings were somehow justified. And so I will continue. Currently I'm processing a fascinating lecture and accompanying paper by the Elizabeth Coleman, President of Bennington College in Vermont, about reforming higher education through a new blend of liberal arts. And how did I get here? Free-associative wandering with some help from the internet but directed by recent conversations I've been having with friends and coworkers. Oh the delights of distraction. Now I've got something else to put my words towards.