The second Cranium Party went exceedingly well, even though not a single one of my core friends was there. In fact, aside from Jess, it was an entirely different group from last time, and none of the four groups of people knew each other, but that didn’t stop it from being an awesome party and everyone got along famously. Through the night, I heard people asking each other, “And how do you know Jeff?”

People brought all sorts of snacks, but more importantly, they also helped me eat them. Of note was Audra bringing a tub of green tea and honey vanilla Häagen-Dazs ice cream, which I had never even heard of before.

To make it interesting, I told everyone that the losing team would have to perform a talent. Some came prepared, others came with the attitude that they wouldn’t lose.

Audra’s talent is speech writing, but since she couldn’t perform that, she did a rendition of a song she wrote with Jesse three years ago about their cat Zoey. And the song wasn’t just a short jingle, it was a full piece with proper song structure and clever rhymes. If only I wasn’t laughing so hard that I kept shaking the camera.

Sergei didn’t have a talent prepared, but since I knew that he used to study martial arts, I asked him if he could demonstrate what he knew. He suggested that he could blow out a candle with a punch, and no one was left unmoved.

Shawn brought his beautifully carved didgeridoo to play as his talent. Even though he didn’t lose, people were still intrigued enough that they wanted to try it. And, of course, Jesse added his own flavour at the end.

I was invited to a night of black magic (as well as some tasty antipasto), and I didn’t know what to expect. Part of the instructions were to bring a large piece of construction paper, a white pencil crayon, and a piece of paper with something written on it that I want to be rid of in my life. Turns out the construction paper was to make our hats and chains, and the pencil crayon was to fashion said hats and chains with our power symbols (something with meaning to each person). I was also given a phrase to memorize and incant during the ceremony.

There were glow sticks, good food¹, and great people. I won’t go into details about the ritual, for revealing too much, as I understand it, is akin to telling people your birthday wish. Needless to say, I hope to wake up to some growth down south (aka expansion to drilling operations in the wildlife preserve) one of these days, if you catch my drift.

1. I got to try some kind of homemade peach juice, which was a thick as glycerin, but very tasty. [↑]

I probably looked like this the whole weekend, cause it was non-stop awesomeness.

The Japanese Village

Last week, Aaron asked me if I wanted to go to The Japanese Village. I thought it was just to hang out, since we hadn’t had a guy’s night in a while, so I didn’t clue in that it was for my birthday until the day of. Aaron told me I could order anything I want, as it was his treat, but I ordered the only thing I ever get when I’m there; the filet mignon cooked medium rare, which I think is the best in the city. It was good to hang out with him and Trolley again.

And, of course, silliness is always present with these guys around.

John in town

John’s been working two straight months, without a weekend off. The last time was when he came to Ottawa to visit. Between all the activities, we only had enough time to watch one movie — American Graffiti — and between the two of us, we could sing every song that came from this film based in the 60s (me covering The Platters, him covering everything else).

I usually only get to see him once a year, so twice in two months was a special treat.

Cranium Party

I’d love to do games nights on a regular basis, but people aren’t available on the same days, so I used my birthday as an excuse to get as many people as possible together for a giant Cranium party. I told them that instead of giving me a present, they should just come to the party. It worked, and we had enough for four teams of three. Some people also brought snacks, like honey mustard pretzels, carrot cupcakes, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

It was the highlight of the weekend.

Dim sum with my dad

On Friday, my dad called me to wish me a happy birthday, and told me he was in town for 10 days. We made plans to have dim sum. John came too, which is always interesting to see his reactions to what food is as the token white guy. I had a phoenix talons for the first time¹, because I was feeling adventurous, and I have to say that they weren’t bad, but I didn’t care for them either. They’re too hard to eat, and the sauce wasn’t to my taste. It was strange to see both John and my dad at the same place, and in Ottawa instead of Toronto.

I told my dad he could probably sit and observe one of my Tai Chi classes, so he could see what I do, but he wasn’t interested, and I’ll admit that the indifference hurt a bit. Afterward, I asked John what he thought as a 3rd party observer, and he told me I had a good relationship with my dad. I’ll take his word for it.

I needed this

I needed this weekend so much. To recharge. To stop thinking about things. To get completely wasted. It felt like it was my birthday the whole weekend, and I wondered what I did to deserve it all.

1. It wasn’t the taste, but the look that has always prevented me from trying them. [↑]

Hard to believe that it’s been a year since I’ve seen Tiana. The last time I saw her was when we did her pregnant photo shoot, and I’d never met Bobby.

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.

For Tom’s birthday, we gathered at Tim’s for grilled chicken breasts, pork chops, roast beef, and some pleasant conversation. I always find it interesting that the topics we discuss are so different from the ones at parties. Subjects tend to be more intellectual, whereas conversations at Pat’s house, let’s say, are much more jovial and carefree.

Frédéric, Misun, and the boys are moving to France to explore a new business venture. To say goodbye to everyone, they rented out a karaoke bar and had a party. The night was a cacophony of sound, for the kids were given free reign of the dance floor and ran around in circles, while the adults took turns singing and eating.

This is my first “5×5″; a video of five vignettes at five seconds each. It’s a helpful guideline for putting together footage that doesn’t necessarily have a consistent theme. It’s also very restrictive, as five seconds is barely enough to see what’s going on in a particular clip, and that means you really have to find the essence of action. I generally don’t make 5×5s because I always have a story to tell, but in this case, it’s fun just to see how people sing. This is very different from the Chinese karaoke parties I was witness to as a kid, where the adults take their singing very seriously, so everyone is very quiet, attentive, and quite rehearsed.

The one who stole the show was Akio, who had heard Frédéric, Misun starting a duet of Ne Me Quitte Pas, took the microphone from Misun, and started repeating the line he had just learned.

I told Frédéric, “It’s amazing that you’re not nervous up there”, and he told me, “I just said to myself that I want to have fun, and it wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t sing, so I wasn’t nervous.” I wish I could do that.

 

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.

 

A camera to mask my shyness, a lens to hide behind.

At Audra and Jesse’s I felt like I was back in university. Meeting people, learning names, throwing in for some pizza. Except this time, I wasn’t being dragged, kicking and screaming to the party. Maybe I was just feeling social, because I hadn’t seen my own friends in so long.

I learned that playing Punch Out on the Wii is as natural to you as it was back when you were in your room back in elementary school, crying because you were no one’s best friend. That watching Air Guitar Nation — when it’s hard to tell how seriously the contestants take themselves — is much more enjoyable with sarcastic comments applied liberally from the audience.

I want to find out what drives them. I want to know why they create, why they’ve chosen their mediums. Why they hang out together. Why they studied what they studied. Why they have the jobs they do.

They’re well-read, educated, opinionated, cosmopolitan. I felt somewhat out of place. Topics of conversation weren’t even close to my interests. Concerts aren’t my scene. Politics confuse me. Things are happening to other friends I’ve never met. But when there’s this much to learn, listening is just as good as taking part.

It was past midnight by the time I got home, but I had hard time falling asleep. My brain was buzzing, trying to take in everything I had just experienced.

 

The holidays are over. I suspect that I’ve eaten more chocolate over the last two weeks than ever in my life.

The two New Year’s parties were great, although I missed seeing Rob at Aaron’s. I did get a New Year’s kiss though, something I normally feel awkward about when the couples are all partaking and I hide behind my camera.

The holes in my ceilings have yet to be fixed, and it makes me cringe every time I walk into my bedroom or bathroom, so I spent all my time in the living room. Every day, I’d wake up, eat, play games, watch movies, then fall back asleep there.

On occasion, I’d visit friends or see a movie, if only for the sake of getting out. Some nights, I’d open the blinds and let the burning sky pour in, just so I could know that there was something out there outside of my little microcosm.

I’m glad to be back to life. I was feeling so lackadaisical and disconnected, drifting aimlessly without any reason or purpose. In a strange way, I feel recharged, if only because I had two weeks without a regular schedule.

 

Last minute Halloween party means last minute costume.

I’m walking down the consolidated aisles of Walmart at 7:30 on Saturday night. The costume packages are all 50% off, and the models on the labels are all pre-teen. I don’t think I’ll fit in the tights of this Batman costume, and this vampire cape only goes down to my waist.

I’m suddenly struck with a fit of nostalgia. Remember that time when I was at that party with Becky, who was wearing a witches mask, trying to engage her in a conversation after we met at the Honest Lawyer¹? Remember when we went as Supertroopers to the party at the girls house? Remember when I got drunk off that bottle of Earnest and Julio Gallo?

I hurriedly grab a black cowl and bloody knife, and walk to the checkout line. With my full-length leather trench coat, I’m hoping it’s enough to gain acceptance to the party, but not too much to stand out.

So the plan is to get there early. That way I don’t have everyone looking at me when I walk in the door. Bail when it gets too loud, or the people too drunk. But everyone invited through Facebook was told eight while I was told nine, and I’m almost last one there.

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1. If you ever read this Christine, I will deny everything. [↑]

 

For Canada’s 141st, Aaron had the regular characters over, along with some new faces, for the annual barbecue. We stayed outside this time, lawn chairs in a semi-circle while the burgers and dogs were being cooked, and took it easy while the sun bathed us.

It was a beautiful day; sunny, with a refreshing breeze blowing through the air.

I don’t get to do this often enough.

Also known as a drinking party at Shirley’s.

This is how I learn that people have a good time when there’s at least one person willing to make a fool of himself, because it sets the tone for everyone else.

That being young is to be young at heart. That to be young at heart is to laugh deep and laugh regularly.

And that it never hurts to have alcohol to help facilitate the process.

An hour to the new year, and I’m in the train station.

Trying not to throw up. Trying not to think about meeting new people. Trying not to think of having to see people I hate.

One of the station doors is propped open, but there isn’t a single person inside. The station, normally bustling, is empty, with just the buzz of the lights to fill the empty space. Not even a waiting taxi outside. Everything sterile as a hospital. I wanted to take a picture, but I could barely move, so I pulled out my notebook and managed to scribble two words:

Another debilitating panic attack.

Pat and Jen’s party was postponed, so I had already decided to stay home. It was ten when Aaron called me to go over¹.

Halfway through the bus ride, I was filled with a sudden rush of anxiety. Maybe it was the people on the bus, or the fact that I wasn’t mentally prepared to be at a party. I couldn’t breathe, yet I was hyperventilating.

I had to get off at the next stop, which turned out to be the train station. As I sat inside, the anxiety would pass in a couple minutes, then come back in a wave as strong as before. I called Aaron and told him I was going to head home, but he insisted, so he sent Rob and Doug to pick me up.

I arrived drained and exhausted. It was a hellish night.

I can only hope the rest of the year goes better than this.

1. The only way I found out about the New Year’s party was from Rob’s comment. Aaron never told me about it himself, so I wasn’t going to presume that I was invited, because I never take my friendships for granted. [↑]