
One of the changes in the latest version of equivocality is the removal of the 9rules leaf from my footer, marking my official departure from the network.
The community served me well in the past, and I’m proud to say that 9rules introduced me to many awesome people — Dave Seah, Edrei Zahari, Nils Geylen, Joe Lencioni to name a few — some of whom I’ve been lucky enough to meet in person, and others I still hope to meet one day. I can say that just knowing them has made my time with the community worth it, even if I got nothing else out of it.
One day I’d like to pick up an instrument with a bigger range (than a ukulele1), and start writing my own material. It’d be even better if I could form a duo with a person I was romantically involved with, like The Dresden Dolls or Wild Strawberries2.
Sometimes The Dresden Dolls play extended versions of their songs at concerts3. The way they interact reveals such intimacy. In each face, you can see how they’re completely lost to the music in those moments of dissonant bliss, but they’re lost together. From body language alone, they read each other for timing, volume, and intensity, until they feel where the other is going by instinct. That kind of chemistry is rare, and it’d be amazing to be able to share that with someone.
A good wingman says “no problem bro” when you ask him to go with you, and takes it as an opportunity to hang out.
He listens and commiserates and backs you up on your feelings when you’re catching him up.
He even pays for dinner when he’s the one doing you a favour.
He keeps a lookout in the sea of people so he can be aware of the situation and warn you.
He stands facing the door so you can have your back to it when talking to him, and won’t be caught off guard.
He teases you about the cute ones, just like the good old days, when you went drinking in places too loud to talk.
He leads when you’re too nervous or self-conscious to do anything, and he follows without question when you take action.
He has a great time, and thanks you for the night.
Tiana brought me as her guest to the Ottawa Foodies pot luck, run by Pam1, and held on a rooftop patio right on Bank Street. It was a true potluck, where no one knew what anyone else was bringing.
The Ottawa Foodies usually gather in the Ottawa Foodie forums, where they discuss recipes and restaurants in Ottawa, so this was the first in-person meeting for many. Many didn’t know each others real names, so there were introductions like, “Hi, I’m MissMuffins862”, or ‚“Hi, I’m Thomas, aka BagelRapist”.
I don’t think Tiana was quite ready for the food dorks, the type of which I was already somewhat accustomed to during my time at the computer science program at Ottawa U. I’ve determined that food dorks are just as bad as wine snobs and computer geeks. For example:
There were two guys who got into a heated argument about the kind of fat used in Mcdonald’s french fries. One of these guys also preached to me about the benefits of good rice, (and me — being Chinese — knew absolutely nothing about rice). There was one guy who said, “I’m doing a documentary on the youngest head chef in the ———- region”. I asked “Wow, how did he get that position?”, and his reply was “His parents own the restaurant”. Then realizing the fact that nepotism ruins the credibility of his initial statement, he followed this with “He also made a flowerless brownie at 11.” Tiana asked, “Did he invent it?”. “No, he followed a recipe”. At that point, Tiana and got silent and we just looked at each other.
But what some of these people lack in social skills, they make up for in culinary abilities, and the food was amazing.
So I basically hung out with Tiana the whole time, and pigged out on everything I could. By the end of the night, my truffles, usually rolled in coco powder to prevent them from sticking to each other, had turned into a truffle.
Something weird happened while I was in Toronto.
I was sitting on a patio with John on Queen Street West, when I noticed Mike walking down the street with a girl. I met Mike as we were simultaneously earning our computer science degrees in Ottawa, so I call him over, and I ask him what he’s doing it Toronto. He tells me he moved here about a year ago, which I didn’t know; the last time I saw him was at Pat’s birthday party.
We make some more small talk, and he introduces me to his friend. Then, for some reason, he turns to me and says, “I don’t know how things are between you and [the stalker], but she’s friends with her too”.
I also met “the stalker” in university. We started as friends, but at some point she told me we were meant for each other, then got all psycho when she said I wasn’t spending enough time with her, and started sending me rambling e-mails like this:
u have a beautiful mind dude… i donno who told u different was it that
redhead bitch that wouldn’t date u? i think i’m feeling homicidial against
her right now >:{yor mind is awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
who the fuck cares if yor good at school or not.….…
I haven’t talked to her since — in early 2005 — and I’ve been avoiding any contact with her, desperately hoping she would forget about me, but she kept sending me e-mails, some as recent as last year, and reading my blog. I don’t know how Mike knows about the whole situation between us, because I didn’t say anything to anyone but my close friends1.
So I remain silent, hoping the entire matter will be dropped, but a voice in my head is screaming “WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THIS UP?!” Then Mike’s friend turns to me and says, “Oh, you know [the stalker] too! I’m going to CALL HER AND LET HER KNOW YOU’RE HERE” (emphasis mine) as she pulls out her cell phone.
As politely and calmly as I can, I say, “Please don’t”, while trying to mask my growing discomfort. In order to remain civil, avert gossip, and avoid turning her against “the stalker” with my side of the story, I don’t say anything or offer an explanation. For some reason, she doesn’t get it, and she brings her phone to her ear. I’m paralyzed by anxiety, unsure of what to say, wondering to myself, “Is this really happening?”
I realize it would probably be inappropriate to smack the phone out of her hand, so I sit. And wait. And after what seems like an eternity, she puts the phone down, and says, “I couldn’t get a hold of her”.
Oh thank you god thank you god thank you god, I promise to add something to the collection plate next time I’m in church.
When she sees the relief in my face, she says, “Oh, I didn’t realize there’s some kind of history between you two. I thought you were joking. I won’t bring it up with her.”, and I do my best to muster a calm, “Probably a good idea”.
John says it makes a great story. I think it made a great heart attack.
A chance to try new recipes and share them with others. Also, a chance to learn some dance moves so you may not feel so out-of-place the next time you’re at a Jewish wedding. I wish I had started taking pictures sooner instead of getting distracted by all the food, because there was so much of it. We sat around and ate and conversed until the sun went down, then ate some more.
I love meeting interesting people. People with something to say (in beautiful accents), and new perspectives to offer. People who are as curious about you, as you them.