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Best Table Tennis Celebration

4

This is so awe­some.

Adam Bobrow (the player in blue) times his loop per­fectly in the mid­dle of a series of defen­sive lobs against the smash of his oppo­nent, throw­ing off his oppo­nents offen­sive rhythm, and caus­ing him to drive the ball into the net.

I gen­er­ally don’t post stuff like this (i.e. con­tent that isn’t mine, as I don’t want to have a tum­blelog), but I couldn’t resist. As an avid lover of table ten­nis (who has since given up prac­tices for a love for Tai Chi because they’re on con­flict­ing nights), and as a player who fre­quently gets destroyed by oppo­nents in the league, I under­stand exactly how good it feels to get a sin­gle point when it’s match point for the other guy. After all, it’s not a com­plete thrash­ing if you don’t have zero points. You can tell the ref isn’t impressed, but he doesn’t hand out a yel­low card for misconduct.

I want to see some­one do this after win­ning in push hands. :D

Edit: I showed the video to Norm, my old league team­mate and coach, and also a cer­ti­fied level 5 umpire (the high­est level you can get, which means you can pre­side over inter­na­tional and Olympic level matches; I’m a lowly cer­ti­fied level 1 umpire). He had this to say:

I watched the game, when the point was over and the guy did his dance I wouldn’t give him a yel­low card for the first 5 sec­onds. But he kept on doing this and it def­i­nitely deserves a yel­low card. But then when I saw the score board, I changed my mine again. Seems like the game was lop­sided and he was just crown­ing around for his point.

I have to agree. If he was cel­e­brat­ing a lop­sided game on his end, it would be con­sid­ered cocky. But the fact that he’s los­ing and danc­ing to such a hol­low vic­tory means that he acknowl­edges how badly he’s los­ing. Well played.

Date  February 27, 2009
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Categories  Random

My First Colonoscopy

31

Warning: This may be a lit­tle too much infor­ma­tion for some. I find it funny that almost a year ago, Tiana crowned her­self the win­ner of our inad­ver­tent com­pe­ti­tion on gross-out bod­ily func­tion blog­ging, and specif­i­cally men­tioned that to top her period-blogging I would need to do a live blog­ging of a colonoscopy. I was too sedated to do a live blog­ging, so this is a night-of blogging.

Bishop takes rook-pawn, Tiana. Your move.

Before

The first (overnight) lax­a­tive is to clean out your colon of all solid wastes. It doesn’t kick in overnight, it starts work­ing in about an hour, which means you aren’t going to get much sleep.

The sec­ond lax­a­tive (mag­ne­sium cit­rate) makes your intes­tine absorb water through osmo­sis, so that you start pass­ing liq­uid for a more thor­ough clean­ing. The mag­ne­sium cit­rate wasn’t as bad tast­ing as I expected (sort of a chem­i­cally sour lemon­ade), but that, along with hav­ing to drink ten glasses of water to make it effec­tive, did make me slightly nauseous.

When liq­uid comes out of you from this end, it doesn’t make a nice con­tained splosh. No, it goes every­where. I lost track of how many times I went to the bath­room, and used almost two rolls of toi­let paper in two days. And when you wipe this many times, even three-ply, ultra-soft toi­let paper feels like it’s coated in dia­mond dust and dipped in acid.

I was able to get through a decent chunk of my novel, The Last Light of the Sun, and learned from GQ how to “Work That Tan”, why Shia LaBeouf is the upcom­ing bad boy of Hollywood, and that Rolex makes a $37,500 nau­ti­cal watch.

You really don’t feel like doing any­thing but lie around when going through this. As such, I was able to fin­ish God of War 2, and unlocked the awe­some Cod of War cos­tume, which still makes me laugh every time a Greek sol­dier addresses Kratos as “My lord!” when he’s wear­ing it.

During

Every per­son I spoke to who had a colonoscopy said that it was a breeze. Not so for me.

Pretty much as soon as they injected the seda­tive into my IV, I passed out, only to be awoken by bouts of agony. I’d say that for the entire pro­ce­dure I was only con­scious for about two min­utes in total, but those two min­utes were not fun. I don’t think I would have woken up if it wasn’t for the pain.

Part of the dis­com­fort is sup­posed to come from inject­ing air into the colon so they can bet­ter see the colon. I couldn’t tell if it was that, the instru­ment they used to do it, or the endo­scope itself snaking into my colon, but I felt a sharp pres­sure on both the anal cav­ity, and inside the colon.

I remem­ber scream­ing through grit­ted teeth, grab­bing the han­dles of the bed, swear­ing, and think­ing that I should have bet­ter man­ners before pass­ing out again.

At one point, some­one also had to hold me down, and uttered com­fort­ing words, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

After

Since the colon is inflated with air, I was warned that I’d be pass­ing gas for a while after the pro­ce­dure. This is true, and very invol­un­tary.

I have severe ulcer­i­tive col­i­tis, which is an inflam­ma­tory bowel dis­ease. The doc­tor showed me pic­tures of my colon; the right side is fine, but the left side is so inflamed that it’s black, red, and bleed­ing. All the infor­ma­tion is being sent to another spe­cial­ist, whom I’m very glad to be able to see soon.

I was pretty groggy for a while after, par­tially because I hadn’t eaten in two days, and par­tially because of the seda­tive. Every time I stood up, I felt like I was going to pass out.

Right now, I have to take 12 pills a day, one of them being pred­nisone, a steroid to sup­press the over­ac­tive immune sys­tem responses, the other being mesalamine, an anti-inflammitory drug to bring the swelling under con­trol. These drugs are scary. The side effects are pretty bad, but the doc­tor judged the ben­e­fits to out­weigh the poten­tial risks.

I may have to take pills (con­sid­ered “main­te­nance med­ica­tions” to pre­vent relapse) for the rest of my life. While I feel this low­ers my qual­ity of life, it’s much bet­ter than deal­ing with the flare-ups and side effects of col­i­tis. Aside from that, the only cure is to have part of my colon removed in surgery, which I really don’t want to do.

The diag­no­sis of hav­ing a chronic diges­tive dis­ease is not great, but I’m very relieved to have an expla­na­tion of the mys­tery pains, along with a treat­ment plan.

I hate, hate, hate being alone when I’m feel­ing sick. My stom­ach still feels very funny and unset­tled. So Julie came over last night to hang out a bit and to take my mind off every­thing, and watch some Robson Arms.

Date  February 26, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life

A New Hope In Healthcare

18

The mind, know­ing some­thing painful or unpleas­ant is going to hap­pen to the body, can pre­pare for such sit­u­a­tions. Which is why I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t wake up this morn­ing, and think, “At some point today, some­one will put a plas­tic tube in my ass, and shine a flash­light into it”.

Yet this is exactly what hap­pened. With a lack of for­mal­ity, after telling me to “Just relax”, the doc­tor inserts a specu­lum (in this case, the aptly named “anoscope”) in my anal cavity.

Unprepared for the sen­sa­tion, I brace myself and grab the edge of the bed. I wouldn’t say that the feel­ing was painful as much as…unsa­vory.

“Just try to relax”, he repeats, with words added about an attempt. I thought he was already all the way in. I was wrong. With a thrust, he goes deeper.

I can’t stop laugh­ing. It’s half ner­vous, half hys­ter­i­cal. This doc­tor must think I’m enjoy­ing this.

But no doc­tor has ever done this before, or been so thor­ough in going over my symp­toms, and it’s a far cry from the health­care I’ve been get­ting before. So, after he lit­er­ally wipes of my ass of the excess lubri­ca­tion and I’m tuck­ing the tails of my dress shirt into my pants, I thank him.

Wait. I hope he doesn’t take that the wrong way.

Colonoscopy kit

He tells me I need a colonoscopy. As I’m book­ing my appoint­ment, the recep­tion­ist hands me a colonoscopy kit (at $25) which includes:

  • 2 bot­tles of mag­ne­sium cit­rate (a saline laxative)
  • 2 bisacodyl tablets (an overnight drug laxative)
  • 2 dimen­hy­dri­na­tel tablets (used to pre­vent nausea)

The lax­a­tives are to com­pletely clean out my sys­tem so they can see what’s going on inside my colon. The nau­sea tablets are to coun­ter­act the unpleas­ant taste of the mag­ne­sium cit­rate. I haven’t been able to eat any­thing with seeds three days prior, and noth­ing but clear liq­uids at two days until the pro­ce­dure. Unfortunately, I’m off for two days from work and a night of Tai Chi, as the first round of lax­a­tives has me run­ning to the bath­room at fre­quent inter­vals. Louise is dri­ving me to the clinic and back, as I’ll be given two seda­tives dur­ing the pro­ce­dure: one to relax me, and one to make me groggy. I’m just hop­ing that I’ll pass out, and wake up when it’s over.

Read the rest of this entry »

Date  February 24, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life Photos

Helpless Wondering

7

I’m almost ready for spring. The win­ter isn’t get­ting on my nerves quite yet. The only thing I miss right now is being able to drive com­fort­ably with­out a heavy coat on.

I’ve been feel­ing ter­ri­bly help­less lately. There are so many things in my life that are out of my con­trol — health, love, money, work — that I’ve actu­ally con­sid­ered doing a thought record for the first time since I fin­ished ther­apy. Last week I woke up chok­ing in the mid­dle of the night. Then half way through the day I started devel­op­ing mod­er­ate chest pains. I try not to worry when I’m awake, but at night, in my sleep, every­thing comes out. Maybe every­thing is start­ing to get to me.

I want things to hap­pen quickly. I’m impa­tient. I want to be proac­tive, but there’s not much I can do. Verse 42 of the Tao Te Ching has been speak­ing to me:

Who knows what fate may bring —
  one day your loss may be your for­tune
  one day your for­tune may be your loss

While I usu­ally crave the flux between con­stancy and change, I pre­fer it in one thing at a time. It feels like I’m going through another tran­si­tion period. Nothing around me is settled.

All I can do is wait to see where I end up.

Date  February 22, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life

Name My First Painting

32

The dead­line for name sub­mis­sions is over, and the con­test is closed. I’ll announce the win­ner over the week­end. A big thank you to every­one who participated!

My first painting

This is the first paint­ing I’ve ever made. I’ll suf­fix that with “in my adult life”, because I prob­a­bly did some­thing with my hands when I was a kid.

Julie, who’s very famil­iar with the medium, got me to sit down and paint with her. I was able to play around with dif­fer­ent tech­niques of strokes and the like. It was inter­est­ing to dis­cover the way the colours bleed, the con­sis­tency of the paint, and the tex­ture of the canvas.

It’s def­i­nitely abstract. I agree with Dan’s astrol­ogy read­ing, in which he said that I see colours dif­fer­ently, but that doesn’t mean I can cre­ate them. Frédéric once told me that it’s eas­ier for him to paint than pho­to­graph, because if he needs a cer­tain colour, he can just add it to the paint­ing by hand, whereas you can’t do this with a scene in pho­tog­ra­phy. My forté seems to be in cap­tur­ing instead.

Painting doesn’t come nat­u­rally to me. In ele­men­tary and high school, I went direc­tion of music (gui­tar, voice, flute, and piano) instead of visual art. In uni­ver­sity, when I wasn’t play­ing in bands any­more, I stuck with the writ­ten word, and even­tu­ally moved to pho­tog­ra­phy and video when that wasn’t enough.

So the paint­ing cur­rently remains unti­tled. Partially because I can’t put a name to it, and par­tially because I haven’t decided what it is. Which seems a lit­tle silly to me, as my need to cre­ate has always come from the need to express. Even though Jackson Pollock once said, “When I am in my paint­ing, I’m not aware of what I’m doing”, his paint­ings still had a direc­tion, a life of their own, much like an impro­vised jazz solo.

What do you see, and what would you name it?

Leave your sug­ges­tions in the com­ments, and I’ll choose a win­ner next Friday. The win­ner will win the paint­ing! Yes, I’ll even ship it to you. The dimen­sions are roughly 8.5″×11″ (or 21.6cm×28cm).

Date  February 20, 2009
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Categories  Random

Pain Is Better Than Emptiness

7

I’ve come to real­ize that I cling to pain and yearn­ing because they give me inspi­ra­tion. They may not be the sole source, but cer­tainly a great deal. I always lis­ten to Leonard Cohen and Elliot Smith dur­ing such moods, as they have the abil­ity to inten­sify and deepen the sadness.

I can tell it’s some­thing of a destruc­tive habit. It’s almost like I sub­con­sciously choose to dwell on things that have been resolved for the sake of some­thing to write about.

It makes me think of the last lines from King Missile’s song Ed:

“Yes, this is the answer. This is the end­ing. I shall keep on run­ning, because a body in motion tends to stay emo­tional, and it’s bet­ter to feel. Pain is bet­ter than empti­ness, empti­ness is bet­ter than noth­ing, and noth­ing is bet­ter than this.”

Is this how I feel alive, a way of bring­ing sig­nif­i­cance to my life? Or is this the way I truly feel, and I’m sim­ply a slow healer, and too much of a thinker?

Or per­haps the bet­ter ques­tion is this: does hap­pi­ness inspire me just as much?

Date  February 18, 2009
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Categories  Thoughts

Father-Son Bonding

4

I called my dad on his birth­day this week. After the divorce I would never call him, spe­cial occa­sion or not, sim­ply because I needed to dis­tance myself from the sit­u­a­tion. He did call me on mine last year though, which reestab­lishes a sort of prece­dence and rit­ual, and he actu­ally thanked me for the call.

We made the usual small talk, about work and home.

Mercedes Benz SLK 55 AMG 2006

He told me he bought a car: a 2006 Mercedes Benz SLK 55 AMG hard-top con­vert­ible with 18″ rims and 7-speed-automatic trans­mis­sion. He’s going to keep the Beemer for win­ter dri­ving. It filled my heart with quiet joy when he said I could drive it the next time I vis­ited him. Not so much because he was let­ting me (for I was always allowed to drive the Sportline 300CE while liv­ing at home), but because I could tell in his voice that he wanted me to try it.

I asked him if there’s any his­tory of col­orec­tal can­cer in the fam­ily, which the doc­tor wanted to know at my last appoint­ment, to which my dad answered, thank­fully, no. He shared with me his own health con­cerns, the med­ical terms of which he only knows in Chinese. These are things I avoid ask­ing about when I visit him, as he pops some pills from a bot­tle kept with the dishes in the kitchen, and I real­ize that I’m learn­ing more about my dad than ever. It’s not so much out of a need for pri­vacy or avoid­ance of embar­rass­ment, but sim­ply out of con­ve­nience, as these top­ics would never get brought up.

It’s strange to bond with him in this way, only after so many years of leav­ing home.

I remem­ber him try­ing to teach me pho­tog­ra­phy when I was younger, but he soon lost inter­est, in both pho­tog­ra­phy and me1. Maybe it’s the dis­tance that makes us appre­ci­ate each other more, and it wouldn’t be the same if we lived in the same city.

In a way, I’m glad to have the rela­tion­ship now, and I’m able to for­get that I’ve never had it for most of my life.

  1. As such, all my pho­tog­ra­phy is self-taught, aside from one trick used to zoom a lens towards the sub­ject so that the edges are blurred that he showed me at the Statue of Liberty. [↑]
Date  February 16, 2009
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Categories  Random

Protected: I Want To Believe

2

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Date  February 15, 2009
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Categories  Random

I Want

7

I want the view. The city lights beneath me, blink­ing in red and white, to remind me that life still goes on even as we’re uncon­scious of it.

I want to be in the café with Darren, talk­ing about that which only we could under­stand about each other.

I want to be look­ing out the open win­dow of my uncle’s apart­ment in Hong Kong, to hear the peo­ple talk­ing, even through the night. I want to smell the age of the wood, the steril­ity of the concrete.

I want the strings to be play­ing just for me. To guide me, through lay­ers of res­o­lu­tion after resolution.

I want to stay on the beach­front. To feel the cool, moist wind blow­ing through open cur­tains and doors, com­pletely trust­ing of the world. To feel the dark­ness and quiet swal­low­ing me whole.

I want to be rolled up in my sheets with her, pressed together on the couch, naked as we came, as the morn­ing light begins to glow through the blinds.

I want to be down­town in the warmth of sum­mer, with the energy of those around me as if the night would never end.

I want the rit­u­als accorded to those who love and are loved in return.

I want to walk out of the the­atre into the deaf­en­ing night air, my mind rac­ing and hum­bled from the performance.

I want to ride with John. To speak with­out think­ing. To feel with­out car­ing. To con­fide with­out worrying.

I want this feel­ing to last forever.

Date  February 14, 2009
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Categories  Random

Turkey At Work

13

Free turkey

Yep, there’s a turkey roam­ing around the park­ing lot at work. And in sub-zero tem­per­a­tures, no less. People try to shoo him away, scared that he might get run over, but he just weaves in and out of the cars in cir­cles. At one point, he even perched him­self on the spoiler of one them. It was a lawyer’s car, so no one cared. Except the lawyer of course.

Free turkey

I remem­ber an online buddy dri­ving here to vis­it­ing me from Illinois back in 2002. It was his first time in Canada, and he remarked that the scenery was really nice, with lots of trees and wildlife, unlike the con­crete jun­gle of American cities. I guess I take Canadian nature for granted.

Free turkey

Date  February 13, 2009
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Categories  Photos Random

Protected: The End Of The Affair

10

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Date  February 11, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life

Busyness Never Ends

4

What began as an attempt to move my router and modem from their pre­car­i­ous posi­tions on top of my (top-opening) deep freezer, turned into a com­plete reor­ga­niz­ing of all the closet space on the bed­room level of my house over the week­end. This means I had to pull every­thing out to see what I was deal­ing with, decide how to sort it all, and buy shelv­ing units and stor­age bins to store them.

It was a race to get every­thing packed away (or thrown out) and off the floors of the bed­rooms and hall­ways before the week­end was over so I wouldn’t have to sleep sur­rounded by the mess. I dis­turbed many a spider’s home this week­end, and in doing so, had to kill the spi­ders as well.

But it didn’t stop there, oh no. At 10:30 last night, with my bed­time closely approach­ing — and my eyes dry­ing out from the exhaus­tion — I got my iron­ing done, and my lat­est batch of music added to my iPod.

It seems like it’s another week­end gone, chip­ping my nails, dam­ag­ing my fin­gers. Non-stop, save a phone call with John.

The last few week­ends was lit­er­ally spent in bed with my muse, so I guess I was just mak­ing up for pro­duc­tive time that I haven’t had in a while.

Bronwen and I agreed to try to see each other at least once a month. Which doesn’t seem like a lot at only 12 times a year, but I think of the last time I saw Pat or Aaron, and it was on New Years.

I’m also try­ing to make doc­u­men­tary nights and Sunday brunches a reg­u­lar thing. The fre­quency of reg­u­lar remains to be seen.

It seems like even my relax­ing time needs to be planned and sched­uled. I’m tak­ing a break from God of War 2 to play Black and White 2, which I never fin­ished. My next book­ing with Dan is over a month from now, but I just received noti­fi­ca­tion that it has to moved back to accom­mo­date for other venture.

I’m still going with projects, start­ing new ones before the old ones are fin­ished. I’ve decided that I can’t stop the cre­ative process, and that forc­ing myself to stick with one until com­ple­tion makes it a chore. I like to have my fin­gers in sev­eral pies at once, so that I can take a break from one but still be pro­duc­tive by mov­ing to another.

It seems like the busy­ness never ends. Is this what being an adult is like?

Date  February 9, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life

Sunday Pot Luck Brunches

4

Gathering in the living room

Thumbnail: One of my smoothies
Thumbnail: Tim cooks bacon
Thumbnail: Wooden trivet
Thumbnail: Pancakes
Thumbnail: Fruit bowl
 

Tim is, as he puts it, cut from the same cloth as his uncle, inso­far as they both enjoy enter­tain­ing. They also live in a four-storey house, which is per­fect for such a thing.

So every Sunday, peo­ple come together for a casual pot luck brunch, where guests are invited to bring food, the idea being that it’s be eas­ier to bring a dish some­where and share with every­one than sit at home and make break­fast for your­self. Last time, I got to try fancy smoked bacon, and a pancake-batter-cooked-in-bacon-grease experiment.

At this point, enough peo­ple know about it that no one has to men­tion ahead of time whether they’ll be com­ing, but there’s enough food for all.

Tim described this pretty well in a recent e-mail:

Dear Everyone,

I’m fas­ci­nated by coor­di­na­tion problems.

Coordination prob­lems are sit­u­a­tions where all the actors involved are more or less on the same side, but there is imper­fect infor­ma­tion. Everyone wants the same gen­eral out­come but isn’t sure how every­one else is going to get at it.

Driving is a solved coor­di­na­tion prob­lem. No one wants an acci­dent so we all want to drive on the same side of the road, but there is noth­ing spe­cial about choos­ing the left or the right side. How do peo­ple pick?

In 1958, Thomas Schelling ran this exper­i­ment on a group of uni­ver­sity stu­dents in Connecticut: “Imagine that you are to meet some­one in New York City at noon, but you don’t know where and you can’t get in touch with them in advance. Where do you go?”

Without con­sult­ing one another, the major­ity of them picked the same loca­tion. I won­der if you can guess what it was (where would you go?).

Every week, we solve and re-solve a coor­di­na­tion prob­lem with brunch. Everyone wants a good and var­ied brunch spread. Different peo­ple come every week and no one RSVPs, so you can never be sure what other peo­ple will bring. We don’t con­sult in advance, I don’t assign dishes or types of dishes. The only infor­ma­tion we have is what was at brunch the pre­vi­ous week and my writ­ten sug­ges­tion about fruits, which is mer­ci­fully ignored by most of you.

Yet every week brunch has a wide range of deli­cious foods. Isn’t that amazing?

I think it’s amazing.

Hope to see you on Sunday,

Tim

If I was par­tic­i­pat­ing in Schelling’s exper­i­ment, I would have cho­sen to meet at the clock in Grand Central Station; it’s always stood out to me because of the way it was promi­nently fea­tured in the fan­tasy waltz sequence done by Terry Gilliam in The Fisher King. I had no idea that this was also the infor­ma­tion booth, and it’s this place exactly that most stu­dents chose.

And it goes with the peo­ple at brunch as well. When one per­son eats, another will get up to cook. When every­one is done eat­ing, the dishes are all put away, the pans are all cleaned. With the wis­dom of crowds, noth­ing needs to be said.

I think it’s amaz­ing too.

Date  February 6, 2009
Tags 
Categories  Daily Life Photos

Musical Context

8

Every song is a time stamp. A place in life, marked by the exact moment that it’s first heard. In this moment, your sur­round­ings, cir­cum­stances, and emo­tions all become attached.

There’s a song for every­thing, from a sin­gle moment — like los­ing your vir­gin­ity — to an entire year — like your last one in high school. Perhaps my child­hood is such a blur because I never started lis­ten­ing to music until I was about 14; there was no anchor for my mind to asso­ciate with my experiences.

In prepa­ra­tion for my house­warm­ing party, Trolley and I decided on a set of music to be played dur­ing the fes­tiv­i­ties. It was my idea to split the songs into two cat­e­gories, day and night, to take us from the after­noon to the evening. We sat at his com­puter, and as we went through the list, I told him how to cat­e­go­rize each song. It seemed like such an arbi­trary act to him, but for me, there was a dis­tin­guish­ing tone to each song that made it appro­pri­ate for a cer­tain time of day.

Two exam­ples:

The quin­tes­sen­tial night, Bring Me the Disco King, by David Bowie, (fea­tur­ing Maynard James Keenan & John Frusciante).

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And the quin­tes­sen­tial day, Another Sunny Day by Belle & Sebastian.

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I won­der if I’m the only who can hear it, because of my expe­ri­ences and when I heard these songs first, or whether the order of cer­tain notes express a cer­tain con­no­ta­tion of sun and moon.

Accepting a song from some­one, as opposed to find­ing some­thing your­self, always puts the song in the musi­cal con­text of that person.

The con­no­ta­tion then comes from this person’s expe­ri­ences, your rela­tion­ship with them, or both. You hear the song through their ears. It changes the notes, the chords, the core sound of what you’re lis­ten­ing to. From some­one like Darren, a song is totally dif­fer­ent than from Julie.

Music is thus another form of memory.

Date  February 4, 2009
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Categories  Thoughts

French Toast

10

My intro­duc­tion to French toast with cin­na­mon and vanilla and fresh fruit. When I was young, my mom would make French Toast, but it was plain eggs and bread.

It’s not what you’re think­ing though. The bot­tle of Crown Royal is filled with real maple syrup. Not whiskey((Coincidentally enough though, both liq­uids are Canadian icons.)).

God, it’s nice to have some­one cook for you in your own home.

Date  February 2, 2009
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Categories  Daily Life Video
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