Parent-isms

I went home this weekend for Chinese New Year and had a pleasant dinner with the family. Not much of this dinner resembled anything Chinese other than there were Chinese people sitting at the table. We ate pan-seered beef tenderloin with scallops and proscuitto, mashed potatoes, potato slivers and long beans.

Anyways, interesting conversation topics ensued including this one:

Mom: "Hey did you see the fish?"
(We just got two new beta fish aka Siamese fighting fish).
Me: "Yeah I did."
Dad: "You can open that divider and they puff up."
Me: "I tried it already actually."
Mom: "Did you hear what Dad wants to do with the old fish?"
(We have 4 elderly fish that have been in our family for over a year now).
Me: "Uh, no," looking at Sister and Mom with curiosity.
Mom: "Dad wants to flush them down the toilet because they're too old."
Me: "What do you mean? Flush them alive?"
Mom: "Dad says they're old, and they're ugly."
Dad: "They're not as pretty anymore. They don't have that brilliance."
Me: "What?? Is that what you want me to do to you when you get old? Instead of taking care of you or putting you into a nursing home, you want me to flush you down the toilet?? 'Sorry, you're old, I don't want to look at you anymore, FLUSSSSHHH.'"

HAHAHA What funny parents I have.

Look both ways, but which way first?

Yesterday I was walking to school taking my usual route. I have developed a strategy to get to class as fast as I can in order to minimize the amount of time it takes to get there and to get there right as the lecture is starting.

A concept that we all know and love is captured in this expression: "The fastest way to get from point A to point B is a straight line," and it's one that I use on a regular basis. So I like to apply this concept whenever possible if walking is involved. Thus my routine walk to school usually requires jaywalking at a minimum of two times. Damn streets are organized into square grids with no diagonals.

So as I'm crossing the second street, which has several parked cars along either side of the road, I almost got smoked by a car. Or at least it felt like I was a foot away from death as the car zoomed by. We are always taught to look both ways before crossing a street. I didn't immediately recognize that with the cars parked along both sides of the street, the street was reduced to one-lane. And by convention, in North America, we look left, then right. So I looked left, felt a little confident about sticking one foot into the street, and then ZOOOOOM, a car comes flying by on my right-hand side. Wow. That was a close one. I'm not sure if that was a near-death experience, but it was as close as I want to come to being hit by a car.

It reminded me of an incident that happened at Western when I was probably just about to enter university. A story about an international student who was hit and killed by a car during O-week. She, coming from a country where the traffic direction is backwards, looked both ways, but looked the wrong way first, stepped out into the street and was hit by a car. Unfortunately her life ended just as it was just about to begin.

So I guess what I'm saying is to be careful. Do the best that you can to have control over your actions because there are so many things that are out of your control. Wear your seatbelt. Don't get into that car with a driver who has been drinking. Be as confident as you want but realize that confidence is not an airbag.

Arrrrrrr Matey

You know what I love?? EPIPHANIES. Epiphanies are great. The "Oh my gosh, are you serious???" 's. When you realize that you were doing something wrong the entire time, and finally, you know the right way to do it. Or things that never occurred to you before, but seem crystal clear all of the sudden. Those are the more obvious ones. Then there are the ones that are just subtle, and like magic, expectedly things are working for you.

That being said, I haven't had one in a while.

But I'll give a couple of examples of ones that have occurred in the past.

I'm actually not certain if this is an epiphany so much as taking one for the dumb team. When I was little, I used to do yard work, house painting, house chores and car stuff with my dad. We always ended up getting pretty dirty to say the least. We would have to use solvents, paint thinners, etc. and many times, they would end up on my hands. So these solves are potentially poisonous and my dad, looking out for me, would tell me to wash my hands thoroughly. Being very young, this word "thoroughly", really didn't have much meaning to me. My vocabulary was, and probably still is, limited! Anyhow at the time I thought "thoroughly" could have two possible meanings: complete and careful or casual and light. Although being absolute opposites, I had a 50/50 shot at choosing the right answer. But I was convinced that it was the latter. Needless to say, I washed my hands very briefly in tap water, shook the water off and wiped them. My dad said, "Did you wash your hands thoroughly?" to which I replied, "Yup Dad." I can't say exactly when I realized, or had the epiphany that I had the mistaken "thoroughly" to be the opposite meaning, but alas, it did happen. (No, it wasn't last year) And I'm still alive.

If I'm not mistaken, he might have applied that word in regards to the use of an autoclave as well....

Epiphany #2. Are you like me and assumed that pirates wore those silly feather-impaled hats, bandanas, puffy white shirts, pointy boots, and eye patches to fit an image? Such that when captains saw a group of these swashbuckling ruffians approaching on the high seas, they would know to raise the white flag and surrender? I can't remember why we were talking about pirates, but after having a discussion with my dad, I had an "Oh my gosh" moment. I had what I call the Captain Hook Theory: pirates wear patches because they have had an eye gouged out from combat (or poked himself in the eye with his hook).

Then my dad, putting a scientific spin on things said matter-of-factly: pirates cover one eye, a perfectly useful and good eye as a combat tactic. A rather clever one. If you have ever experienced absolute and blinding darkness when walking into a dark building, having been outside in the sun, then you will understand this concept. If you are in a bright environment, the pupils of your eyes adapt to shrink, so as to let in less light. This mechanism serves to protect the eye from overexposure, as well as improve the visual acuity and thus you can see more detail. When you abruptly moving into a dark environment, you can't see at first because your pupils were constricted. But your pupils dilate eventually, so as to let in more light and thus to see shapes, albeit not very clearly and not in colour. The opposite is true in the reverse situation (dark to light environment, you will be blinded by too much light until your pupils adjust and constrict).

So essentially, when pirates need to go into dark places, such as below the deck or into caves as they are swordfighting, such adaptation mechanisms of the eye as one transitions from dark to light environments are anticipated with the patch. Since the one eye is already covered, it has already adapted to the dark, and thus, enter the cave, flip the patch up, one good eye ready to go while your opponent is blind momentarily, swish swish with the blade, opponent dead.

Smaaart.

So as you can see, the gouged eyeball was just a childish myth that I held into adulthood. I have to give pirates a lot more credit now.

Me feel so sdupid.

First Kiss

So I was just thinking back...back to a time when I wondered what my first kiss would be like, my first date. You know, as a young girl (or a young boy), you begin to think about these things. Contrary to the popular kiss-your-own-arm, kiss-the-pillow, or kiss-your-cousin (ewwww) methods of practice, I preferred just to imagine what it would be like. This moment is supposed to be a major milestone in one's life, akin to getting your driver's license, hitting puberty, getting it on, etc. And after all the wondering and waiting it happened.

I was being dropped off by my date. We had gone to a restaurant, East Side Mario's to be exact. He was dropping me off after dinner (on a weekday!) and we did the whole walk slowly up the steps of the porch, anticipating the moment when we would say our goodbyes and part. He said, "So, I had a really great time," and I said, "Yeah me too." We looked into each other's eyes. He stooped down, looking deeper into my eyes, and then moved closer.

And then...he propped his head sideways...to the left!!!(???) Who kisses from the left side???? Whoa that really threw a wrench into things. He was right-handed too. I thought, only lefties would do that. But I guess I was wrong. Isn't there some universal rule that states only kissing from the right is allowed? There should be some population database: age, sex, favourite food, kisses from the left. That way, all lefty kissers can get together and be happy. Then the tongue. It was apparent that it was going to be a Frenchie. But I didn't want it to be a tonsil hockey, muscle work-out. Just hoping for a little peek-a-boo. Well it must have been the whole head tilt thing that was throwing me off because whenever I went to close my mouth, I kept chomping on his tongue. I could feel the little taste buds of his tongue grating across my teeth and although I hoped that I wasn't hurting him, it kind of grossed me out. A couple of minutes later (I'm not sure exactly how long it was), our lips parted and he stood straight again and said:
"Mmmmm, banana."

He was commenting on the sucker that I had consumed not much earlier, you know, the candies that you get with your bill.

So as you can see, a first kiss, albeit a highly anticipated event, is not all it's cracked up to be. It's not glamorous, it's not particularly memorable (in a good way), and it's not as great as you imagined it to be in your head. It is in fact a little awkward and embarassing. And so I ask, is it worth it to have such high expectations and fantasies? Hehe, well it makes for a funny story...in retrospect.

Got a first kiss story you want to share??? I told you mine, now you tell me yours!

A little more sugar, wait wait, too much sugar.

Is there only so much of yourself to go around?

Can you have a million friends and still devote your emotional self to a significant other? Or by having too many friends do you spread yourself thin, thereby not employing your full potential into a relationship?

You can be the friendliest person, having loving and nurturing traits towards everyone, but how does your significant other know that he/she is receiving the sincerest and most potent of your affections if you treat everyone in a similar manner?

I think it is possible to hold so many relationships that others will inevitably suffer. It's just a matter of which of those relationships you deem to be most important and long-lasting that you put your heart into. It requires some perspective and some intuition.

Everything else is just fluff.

On the flip side, one can put too much into just one or a few relationships such that you don't end up making many significant relationships. This can be isolating at times if you depend too much on a person, especially if they can't always reciprocate. Well it is a personal opinion as to whether that is good enough for you.

It's all a matter of finding the happy medium. Damn cliches.

Blurry 3AM

While watching a late night screening of A League of Their Own on the country channel of all places I captured a nice little quote from Mr. Dugan to Dot:
"It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. Hard is what makes it great."

Material

Stuff.
It's dispensible, but to me, has significant meaning. I look at something that I have, and it reminds me of what I was doing that day, who I was with, memories.
It's all around.
Inescapable.
Indescribable emotion.
Sheets.
Computer.
CDs.
Pictures.
Box.
Rose.
Chair.
TV.
Clothes.
Necklace.
Purse.
Watch.
iPod.
Books.
Toothbrush.
Wine glasses.
Cookware.
Are objects meant to be meaningful and do we require materials to feel connected, or does the heart search for meaning in these objects in the absence of tangible feelings?

A need for laughter

Although I was feeling like shit, momma always knows how to make me laugh.

She was making tea as she does in the morning. The water was boiled, the tea bag put into the measuring cup. Then she holds it up for me to see. "What's wrong with this?" I look, try to figure out what could possibly be wrong. "You mean, it looks cloudy? Maybe the tea bag leaked". I got up to inspect it. Nope, tea bag was intact.

"Oh shooot!" Mom goes. "Nevermind. I know what happened."
Me: "Ok, what?"
Mom: "...I forgot to pour the vinegar out of the kettle after I cleaned it."
Me: "So you mean,"
Mom: "There's vinegar in this water."
Me: "Ewwwwww."

RIP JC

Poor Jane Creba. Gunned down by stray bullet-fire on Boxing Day. An innocent by-stander who was doing some holiday shopping with her parents. Searching for sales on an already chaotic Boxing Day. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time, as in anybody who was to be there at 5pm December 26, 2005. It could have been anyone. It could have been me. I used to walk by Foot Locker on Yonge St. a lot. And yet those injured and killed had nothing to do with the feud going on between two opposing gangs, firing on each other across Canada's busiest street.

So sad...so incidental.

More than words

If you love someone, let them go.


I never could figure the meaning of this statement.
But now it speaks volumes.

Taking a cab in Toronto

It's a lot harder than you think. There's politics. Mind-games. Fairness. Etiquette.

Well I was trying to grab a cab back from the Greyhound bus station after a trip from London to Toronto on December 30. I had my backpack, a duffel bag and a separate bag full of pictures and cookies. Despite packing lightly on my trip up, my duffel bag inexplicably became very full for my trip back. I think if I had to weigh my stuff it would have been 30lbs +. That's almost a 3rd my body weight and not to mention the awkwardness of carrying it all.

I descended from the Greyhound, picked up my big purple duffel and was excited to see vacant cabs driving around. I was about to grab one of them when a Greyhound worker told me that to be fair I should go to the first taxi waiting at the taxi stand rather than take a vulturing cab. It was kind of weird actually, cab drivers hissing at me on my way towards the first cab in line, trying to divert my attention to them. [retrospective moment: I shoulda said, screw you greyhound man, all I want to do is get back to my place stat, and it's only 3 blocks away]

Anyhow, after walking a good 50 metres to get to the cab, I settled in, with duffel bag in the trunk. He says, where to? I said, Bay and Gerrard.
Him: Bay and Gerrard? He points to the next street over.
Me: Yes Bay and Gerrard, and it's not just the next street over.
Him: No. No no, I can't do it. Get out. I'll find you another cab.
Me: But my bag is very heavy. I know it's close but I can't carry it myself. Look at how big I am.
Him: I'll find you another cab, I can't. You know how long I've been waiting and I get you?
Me: Look how much does it cost to drive me there?
Him: Nothing. It's free. *curse*
Me: Well I'll pay you $5, that's much more than it would cost. (*in my head: hell, drive me around to get your $5 worth!*)
Him: No no get out.

So he starts to get out of the car. I am half out the car. Just when I think he's tossing my bag out the trunk, he closes it back up and says get back in. I'll do it. And takes the opportunity to tell me how unhappy he was as he drove me.

Him: You know I could carry it for you. You don't need a cab.
Me: Oh really, you suggest that I get someone carry it for me? And who would that be? I am not going to ask some stranger to carry my bag and nobody will do it. Who will do it?
Him: I will do it. I will carry it on my head.
Me: Oh really. You would have carried my bag?
Him: Yes, for free. You know we are from Africa. We carry heavy things. My mom carried stuff on her head for long distances. You know, Africa?
Me: Yes I understand what it's like in Africa, but that doesn't solve my problem. My bag is heavy. I can't carry it. And I'm paying someone to do it.
Him: You know we fed ourselves by carrying our food on our heads.
Me: Sir I appreciate you doing this for me. (*in my head: just shut up about carrying shit on your head. You're making no sense at all.*)
Him: Oh look, now I've passed the street.

He stopped. The metre read $3.50. I couldn't get out fast enough. And he handed me my heavy duffel. I handed him the $5 and said thank you and to keep it. It was probably the fastest $5 he's ever made.

It was an annoying ordeal I went through, but hey, it got me from Point A to Point B.


Oh shoot, I forgot to get his cab number. A habit I have yet to pick up.