Monthly Archives: May 2008

The Idea of Love

While my moth­er always made it a point to stay involved in my life (to a fault), it was nev­er because she loved me. She’s not some­one who’s emo­tion­al­ly intel­li­gent enough to under­stand what love is.

She just loved the idea of a son, some­thing “nor­mal” peo­ple have.

Which is why she tries to cling to me so des­per­ate­ly, even when I try so vehe­ment­ly to avoid her. It’s the same way that some men or women only love the idea of mar­riage, instead of their spous­es. They’re rela­tion­ships based on all the wrong rea­sons.

Realizing this has made me won­der; did I ever actu­al­ly love my girl­friends, or did I just love the idea of love?

Pictures of White People Laughing

Playing shots and ladders

Thumbnail: Karaoke crowd
Thumbnail: Bill takes a swig during Karaoke
Thumbnail: Karaoke duet
Thumbnail: Skyy Vodka
Thumbnail: Duet kiss
Thumbnail: Guitar karaoke
Thumbnail: Tray of jello shooters
Thumbnail: He laughs
Thumbnail: Hors D'oeuvres
Thumbnail: Jello shooting
Thumbnail: Doubled over in laughter
Thumbnail: Jello wet will
Thumbnail: Ginger the cat gives me a kiss
Thumbnail: Laughing party
Thumbnail: Shirley plays Rock Band
Thumbnail: Rock Band shot
Thumbnail: Singing faces
Thumbnail: Snoopy the cat
Thumbnail: She laughs on the couch
Thumbnail: Underwear check

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.

Table Tennis with God

I’m walk­ing through a Chinese Christian church. The wood is old but lac­quered well. Decorations line the walls: a tree made of chil­drens’ hand­prints, posters about the Almighty with slo­gans in large print, cal­en­dars and sched­ules of upcom­ing events. We head down­wards while a prayer meet­ing goes on upstairs. A young girl in Heelies skates along­side us in the hall.

We’re lead to a room with two table ten­nis tables, blue, rel­a­tive­ly new. There isn’t much room to maneu­ver, but the light­ing is great. Shou offers us some Jasmine tea. Players are warm­ing up as more Chinese men come in one at a time. They play in sneak­ers with­out sneak­er socks, or dress shirts, or those shirts with logos you get for free at a com­pa­ny. Their shorts are an awk­ward length between capris and sports trunks.

Dan intro­duces him­self to every­one. I’m sit­ting down, try­ing to place the province of their accents. Tamarra picks up a chil­dren’s book and starts to read.

All their serves are ille­gal; they don’t throw the ball the reg­u­la­tion 6 inch­es straight up, which means they can put an unfair spin on the ball before it hits the pad­dle. A result of the insu­lar soci­ety they have here, where they play the same peo­ple over and over again, nev­er ven­tur­ing out­side their reli­gious clique. They sim­ply don’t know any bet­ter.

Dan gets paired up for a match. They both play con­ser­v­a­tive­ly when warm­ing up, try­ing to hide their tech­niques while feel­ing each oth­er out. “Some peo­ple, when you get it in their hit zone, nev­er miss”. Dan’s oppo­nent makes no mis­takes for him to cap­i­tal­ize on, but a con­sis­tent defence wears him out. His oppo­nent spends his ener­gy win­ning the first game, smash­ing at every oppor­tu­ni­ty, and los­es his momen­tum. Dan wins every game for the rest of the match.

Continue read­ing “Table Tennis with God”…

Hold Fast

I was late for work this morn­ing. The weath­er was beau­ti­ful on the dri­ve in. There were thick, dark clouds hang­ing omi­nous­ly in the dis­tance and high in the sky, but the sun was out, bathing every­thing in bright­ness. The wind was refresh­ing­ly cool, so I had to roll the win­dows down.

In anoth­er weird phase late­ly. Hyper again. Currently feel­ing this part from verse 35 of the Tao Te Jing:

Hold fast to the Great Form with­in and let the world pass as it may
Then the changes of life will not bring pain but con­tent­ment, joy, and well-being

Sometimes, I feel like I’m being test­ed. It has­n’t real­ly been going bad­ly, but it’s cer­tain­ly a mix of ups and downs, res­o­lu­tions and frus­tra­tions.

I start­ed to notice that I’ve been talk­ing to myself when alone. Sometimes I laugh aloud too. I once read an arti­cle about a young man who did a solo transat­lantic jour­ney by boat that took sev­er­al weeks, and he said that talk­ing to your­self is nor­mal; it’s when you start to answer your own ques­tions that you should be wor­ried. I think I’ll be alright.

I’ve come to accept the way things have turned out. I’ve felt this way before, but it nev­er last­ed more than a cou­ple months, some­thing that hap­pens when I lose sight of the tao. Hopefully it won’t be so ephemer­al this time. I just need to remem­ber that things will con­tin­ue to work out on their own. To stop try­ing to force things to hap­pen. To breathe.

And to hold fast to the way that can­not be walked.

On Being Busy

Thumbnail: Girl outside Compact Music
Thumbnail: Bakery sign
Thumbnail: Rockstar Jeff with his bling
Thumbnail: Julie peers into a furniture store
Thumbnail: Zaphod Beeblebrox night club

So the next two weeks are:

  • a walk by the riv­er with Frédéric, Misun, and their two boys
  • four Tai Chi class­es
  • a hair­cut with Jeff
  • table ten­nis with Dan at the uni­ver­si­ty, then back to my place to watch Constantine
  • Victoria Day long week­end
  • a tat­too appoint­ment
  • a ses­sion with the ther­a­pist
  • lunch and a movie with Aaron

Not includ­ing the work I need to do on my lat­est pho­to project for the next show. I’m also sup­posed to catch up with Naveed at some point in there; he’s hav­ing a pool par­ty for his lat­est invest­ment prop­er­ty. I got us some cig­ars because he’s a new father, which I’ll have to do for Aaron as well, since his first (a boy) is on the way.

Busyness seems to come all at once, leav­ing me bewil­dered. Never a bit here and there.

Then all of a sud­den, I’m alone for days at a time, won­der­ing what hap­pened and where every­one went. It’s a strange flux that goes from one extreme to the oth­er.

The goal becomes a bal­ance of both. That way, the soli­tude is a wel­come change from the over­stim­u­la­tion and vice-ver­sa.