10) Keanu Reeves - Ya, I know he is sketchy as an actor but he is quietly more interesting than his initial impression. There is something I find quintessentially Canadian about that. Plus, he's a goalie.
9) Gordon Lightfoot - Perhaps the most Canadian of the list. His first name is Gord and he has a First Nation sounding last name--I have no idea if it is. Plus, two of my favourite songs are about nautical disasters--"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitgerald" and "The Ballad of the Yarmouth Castle".
8) Malcolm Gladwell - Sum smart peeple up here. (In a perfect world Malcolm Gladwell or Michael Pollan would write up all academic work).
7) George Chuvalo - Without question, the toughest heavyweight ever. He was physically battered in the ring, and emotionally battered outside of it. In both places he remained, inexplicably, standing and fighting.
6) Brendan Shanahan - Here's a quick test to know if you are a hockey fan, or an idiot. If you don't like Brendan Shanahan you are an idiot. Everything good about hockey is exemplified by players like Shanny. (Cam Neely also fits).
5) Nardwuar the human serviette - The most knowledgeable interviewer in any field. He is not a star, not pretty, and not famous. But is a great litmus test for musicians. Only the most pompous, most arrogant bands aren't impressed with his research. He is the wildly uncool friend that truly cool people get. Almost single-handedly fighting for substance over style in the pop music world.
4) Leonard Cohen - Speaking of cool. Phrases fall from him, even now, that I could not imagine in a lifetime of trying. His quote from Rollingstone is my favourite of the year: "I don't care terribly much about my own opinions. I find my own opinions very tiresome and predictable".
3) Terry Fox - A bit of no-brainer, but he did something each and every day that I can not fathom doing once. Plus, during much of the latter part of the Marathon of Hope he had massive tumours in his lungs. I like the quiet strength of that. It resonates with many Canadians, who understand that the loudest, or most brash is not the most interesting, or remarkable, person.
2) Stephen Brunt - The pre-eminent Canadian radio sidekick. (To be fair, he may be the only member of this category. Few media people have a better grasp of the Canadian psyche than Brunt. He is an excellent newspaper columnist, and writer, but is happy to be at the party without being the centre of it. He is able to hold true to himself from the periphery of fame in the sports world, without prostituting his views for a taste of the limelight.
1) Marshall McLuhan - One of the most quoted, least understood academics of the 20th century. The more time separates us from his work, the more often he is proven right. Virtually unknown to the south, and underappreciated in Canada. And, as I get ready to publish this post in a world re-organized by the internet I assure you that, "the medium is the message".
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Things I am good at
There are a number of things I am pretty good at. There are even a few things I am very good at. And, without hyperbole, there is little I don't do well if I put effort into trying. However, the consistent phenomenon in all the activities I try is that I am not very good when I start. Put another way, I have a lot of most improved trophies.
The only real exceptions to my poor to mediocre initial attempts were reading and writing. And I have come to understand that this is a double-edged sword. For example, I have done so little work on writing over the years that my first inclination is to explain an important part of my life with a tired and tedious cliche. I also feel the need to explain that a cliche is tired and tedious, when that is clearly redundant given the meaning of the word.
Basically, I cruised through elementary and high school without ever learning about how to write correctly. I was always praised for my writing, and reading was effortless. I even managed to escape high school without ever taking a grammar lesson. I did some work during my B.A. to improve my writing, but mostly that improvement was through practice. And I learned nothing about the process of academic reading until well into my M.A. This lack of critical practice in reading and writing finally caught up to me during my PhD classes. And it continues to be the underlying reason for renewing this blog.
Initially, I was lucky that I could read and write better than my classmates. But that luck, without direction, became laziness and a belief that I did not need to work at these things, only try occasionally at essay or exam time. I remember losing interest in reading in elementary school after I tore through a good chunk of the books in the modest library we had, during a period of my youth I was fascinated by speed reading. When you are in grade 4 but read at close to a university level, there aren't a lot of books in an elementary library that are compelling. I tried to read my parents' collection of Reader's Digest classics but "Ivanhoe" and "Moby Dick" were a little slow for a fourth grade kid. I don't want to sound like I am blaming my school, or my circumstance. I generally had an excellent academic experience. I only mean to remind myself why I tend to stumble and have to restart this project of working on writing, and trying to read more consistently.
Because, as the simultaneously overrated (by fans) and underrated (by literary snobs) Steven King reminds us, a good writer must read lots and write lots. And, those were the only things in life I didn't need to work on growing up and I still resist the necessity of practicing them now.
The only real exceptions to my poor to mediocre initial attempts were reading and writing. And I have come to understand that this is a double-edged sword. For example, I have done so little work on writing over the years that my first inclination is to explain an important part of my life with a tired and tedious cliche. I also feel the need to explain that a cliche is tired and tedious, when that is clearly redundant given the meaning of the word.
Basically, I cruised through elementary and high school without ever learning about how to write correctly. I was always praised for my writing, and reading was effortless. I even managed to escape high school without ever taking a grammar lesson. I did some work during my B.A. to improve my writing, but mostly that improvement was through practice. And I learned nothing about the process of academic reading until well into my M.A. This lack of critical practice in reading and writing finally caught up to me during my PhD classes. And it continues to be the underlying reason for renewing this blog.
Initially, I was lucky that I could read and write better than my classmates. But that luck, without direction, became laziness and a belief that I did not need to work at these things, only try occasionally at essay or exam time. I remember losing interest in reading in elementary school after I tore through a good chunk of the books in the modest library we had, during a period of my youth I was fascinated by speed reading. When you are in grade 4 but read at close to a university level, there aren't a lot of books in an elementary library that are compelling. I tried to read my parents' collection of Reader's Digest classics but "Ivanhoe" and "Moby Dick" were a little slow for a fourth grade kid. I don't want to sound like I am blaming my school, or my circumstance. I generally had an excellent academic experience. I only mean to remind myself why I tend to stumble and have to restart this project of working on writing, and trying to read more consistently.
Because, as the simultaneously overrated (by fans) and underrated (by literary snobs) Steven King reminds us, a good writer must read lots and write lots. And, those were the only things in life I didn't need to work on growing up and I still resist the necessity of practicing them now.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
True Blood
Further proof that not all HBO shows are great--or even good. It is somewhat compelling, even if wildly uneven.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
On the joys of a freshly cut lawn
I've had several jobs in my life which involved a huge end of the night cleanup. And I've always found them satisfying. Even if I don't like the cleaning, I love the outcome. There is a simple satisfaction in looking at a clean and sterile canning line that less than an hour before was covered in blood, guts and gills. I find the same thing with mowing the lawn. I don't particularly like it, or weed-wacking but I love sitting on my back steps looking over the nicely kept yard.
Perhaps it is some deep down sense of renewal and a reminder of the cyclical nature of existence that makes it special. Maybe it is the simple animal enjoyment of making something happen that we never get over. Look Mom I stacked cans. Look guys, I shotgunned 12 beer. Look dear, this wet spot is huge. The simple act of interacting with the world is always enjoyable on some level.
Not a terribly interesting post, but at least I wrote something. I think I'll have a beer on my steps to celebrate.
Perhaps it is some deep down sense of renewal and a reminder of the cyclical nature of existence that makes it special. Maybe it is the simple animal enjoyment of making something happen that we never get over. Look Mom I stacked cans. Look guys, I shotgunned 12 beer. Look dear, this wet spot is huge. The simple act of interacting with the world is always enjoyable on some level.
Not a terribly interesting post, but at least I wrote something. I think I'll have a beer on my steps to celebrate.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A writer writes?
Further proof I'm not a real writer seems unnecessary at this point.
I guess if writers tend towards writing, then grad students tend towards procrastination. Or maybe that's how I justify doing too little for too long--the classic 'that's how everyone is' defence.
But, let me get back to the point of this blog. I need to write each day. (This sentence started as: "I need to try and write each and every day". Holy fuck, try and edit in your head goofball...yikes). I sometimes stumble because I am worried I don't have anything to write about. However, that too is a transparent excuse for inaction. I have lots of these excuses. "I don't have time to finish that article, so why start". "This is my only day off, and I do need to recharge". "I can't possibly work until I have coffee, and read Bill Simmons column, and listen to the Carolla podcast and watch some Youtube clips and masturbate and nap".
Okay, that last one was only mostly true.
Let me try this thing again, starting today. (Really? 'starting today'? That's a necessary description--of course it is starting today). I will try to write, read and edit each day. It is shocking how much easier it is to work, when I just start working. Yesterday I decided to tidy up my downstairs and ended up vacuuming, mopping, doing dishes, dusting and cleaning up most of the paper and clutter in the house. I am hoping this blog will work the same way. Just fucking start jackoff.
Speaking of jackoff comments, I talked to my Mom the other day and called someone a jackoff. She started to agree and said, "he is a bit of a jack...rabbit". It was pretty cute. My Mom doesn't swear a lot, and I must say it has some impact when she does. Of course, the impact is normally everyone chuckling like school children but an effect nonetheless.
Okay, that was a start. Go Me.
I guess if writers tend towards writing, then grad students tend towards procrastination. Or maybe that's how I justify doing too little for too long--the classic 'that's how everyone is' defence.
But, let me get back to the point of this blog. I need to write each day. (This sentence started as: "I need to try and write each and every day". Holy fuck, try and edit in your head goofball...yikes). I sometimes stumble because I am worried I don't have anything to write about. However, that too is a transparent excuse for inaction. I have lots of these excuses. "I don't have time to finish that article, so why start". "This is my only day off, and I do need to recharge". "I can't possibly work until I have coffee, and read Bill Simmons column, and listen to the Carolla podcast and watch some Youtube clips and masturbate and nap".
Okay, that last one was only mostly true.
Let me try this thing again, starting today. (Really? 'starting today'? That's a necessary description--of course it is starting today). I will try to write, read and edit each day. It is shocking how much easier it is to work, when I just start working. Yesterday I decided to tidy up my downstairs and ended up vacuuming, mopping, doing dishes, dusting and cleaning up most of the paper and clutter in the house. I am hoping this blog will work the same way. Just fucking start jackoff.
Speaking of jackoff comments, I talked to my Mom the other day and called someone a jackoff. She started to agree and said, "he is a bit of a jack...rabbit". It was pretty cute. My Mom doesn't swear a lot, and I must say it has some impact when she does. Of course, the impact is normally everyone chuckling like school children but an effect nonetheless.
Okay, that was a start. Go Me.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Why grades are not the enemy
Graduate students, and many profs, have a weird aversion to grading their students. It seems disingenuous, at best, since high marks have given them their privileged positions. However, I think this movement is built on three interconnected phenomena. Many graduate students are lazy; many academics are socially awkward; and academia has a fair bit of ingrained narcissism. Let's look at these in order.
Many graduate students are lazy? Despite being able to produce a tremendous amount of work, many grad students falter when things do not come easily to us. For many of us, myself included, the reason we chose grad school is it represented the path of least resistance towards a good career And for those of you who balk at this description allow me to answer--working for a living is much harder than graduate school, it isn't even close. So, when we discover the difficult process of grading, we sometimes resort to calls for the abolition of grades instead of working to be the best teachers we can be.
Also important, is that academics are often socially awkward. Graduate students and profs are more socially inept than your average person. As such, they do not deal with conflict very well. It takes real self-assurance and strength of character to tell someone that their work is not good enough. Of course, if university wasn't so insistent upon people's work equalling their worth, this might be less of a problem.
These first two points are exacerbated by the fact that too many academics are wildly narcissistic. We are not willing to discuss the possibility that many people are not suited for university education. This is the path I chose, and I'm clearly smart, therefore it is the path others should choose---makes sense. However, many of us are here because we have the right set of intellectual tools, not because of a belief in the power of education--even though we may espouse that belief. And because their is no immediate and measurable penalty for producing poor social scientists, we do not weed out students like they do in Architecture or Engineering.
Just as I would not make a great musician, despite playing most of my life, some people are not meant for university. If you need to learn somatically, perhaps you should be a dancer, or actor. It seems that the drive of academics to make all people eligible for a university experience is missing the point of the variety of human experiences. Some profs talk about the number of different learning styles, and they are probably on to something. But if you are a person who doesn't learn through reading, writing and thinking critically you don't need to be a university student--at least not in the humanities and social sciences. Be an artist, they have always been better at questioning the world we live in anyway.
In sum, grades are not our enemy. Our own laziness, inability to negotiate social conflict and narcissism are our enemies. Granted, thinking critically about grading and the system of education is useful but let's focus on the elementary or secondary system that everyone is compelled to go to. Let's find ways to inclusively teach everyone in grade 3, and then they can decide for themselves whether they want to train their critical thinking skills in university or experience the world through dance or whether they want to feel their way through life using a trade.
(And yes, it is obviously more complicated than that--just making a point).
Many graduate students are lazy? Despite being able to produce a tremendous amount of work, many grad students falter when things do not come easily to us. For many of us, myself included, the reason we chose grad school is it represented the path of least resistance towards a good career And for those of you who balk at this description allow me to answer--working for a living is much harder than graduate school, it isn't even close. So, when we discover the difficult process of grading, we sometimes resort to calls for the abolition of grades instead of working to be the best teachers we can be.
Also important, is that academics are often socially awkward. Graduate students and profs are more socially inept than your average person. As such, they do not deal with conflict very well. It takes real self-assurance and strength of character to tell someone that their work is not good enough. Of course, if university wasn't so insistent upon people's work equalling their worth, this might be less of a problem.
These first two points are exacerbated by the fact that too many academics are wildly narcissistic. We are not willing to discuss the possibility that many people are not suited for university education. This is the path I chose, and I'm clearly smart, therefore it is the path others should choose---makes sense. However, many of us are here because we have the right set of intellectual tools, not because of a belief in the power of education--even though we may espouse that belief. And because their is no immediate and measurable penalty for producing poor social scientists, we do not weed out students like they do in Architecture or Engineering.
Just as I would not make a great musician, despite playing most of my life, some people are not meant for university. If you need to learn somatically, perhaps you should be a dancer, or actor. It seems that the drive of academics to make all people eligible for a university experience is missing the point of the variety of human experiences. Some profs talk about the number of different learning styles, and they are probably on to something. But if you are a person who doesn't learn through reading, writing and thinking critically you don't need to be a university student--at least not in the humanities and social sciences. Be an artist, they have always been better at questioning the world we live in anyway.
In sum, grades are not our enemy. Our own laziness, inability to negotiate social conflict and narcissism are our enemies. Granted, thinking critically about grading and the system of education is useful but let's focus on the elementary or secondary system that everyone is compelled to go to. Let's find ways to inclusively teach everyone in grade 3, and then they can decide for themselves whether they want to train their critical thinking skills in university or experience the world through dance or whether they want to feel their way through life using a trade.
(And yes, it is obviously more complicated than that--just making a point).
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Regaining my footing
Amongst the things that makes me, me is that I am a short term obsessive. I do not have anything in my life I am continously enthralled by, but I am prone to bouts of obsession over a huge variety of things.
Lately, the topics of my affection have been, hip hop artists (especially Jay-Z and the RZA), hockey retirement ceremonies (especially Bobby Orr, Wayne Gretzky and Trevor Linden), and linux distributions (Linux Mint 6 is sweet). These topics have exactly one thing in common--they are tools of procrastination.
Sometimes, my tools of procrastination double as useful tools--recent indoctrination into the GTD blogosphere. But mostly, they are a continuation of my theoretical fascination with people. I find people endlessly fascinating when I don't have to interact with them. Yet another reason I am in grad school.
Lately, the topics of my affection have been, hip hop artists (especially Jay-Z and the RZA), hockey retirement ceremonies (especially Bobby Orr, Wayne Gretzky and Trevor Linden), and linux distributions (Linux Mint 6 is sweet). These topics have exactly one thing in common--they are tools of procrastination.
Sometimes, my tools of procrastination double as useful tools--recent indoctrination into the GTD blogosphere. But mostly, they are a continuation of my theoretical fascination with people. I find people endlessly fascinating when I don't have to interact with them. Yet another reason I am in grad school.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Pop Culture Icons
Not surprisingly, most pop culture icons are grandiose blowhards, who believe too much of their own hype (for example: Bono or Madonna). But Leonard Cohen is awe-inspiring. I listened to his interview on CBC's 'Q' and it is remarkable. Poetry falls from him with such ease. One line from the interview makes sense of why I like him so much, and am bothered by so many who wish they could be like him. He always strives for "self-investigation without self-indulgence".
Of course, writing this in a blog is a warning sign of my own self-indulgence. But I try, with varying degrees of success, to emulate that spirit. I try to be self reflective, with out being self-absorbed. I don't comment on other blogs, and include a link to this in my signature. I am interested in understanding my place in the world so I can be a decent person. Naturally, this self-reflection sometimes becomes connected to ego and problems arise. But I do try.
Mostly, I just fucking love Leonard Cohen.
Of course, writing this in a blog is a warning sign of my own self-indulgence. But I try, with varying degrees of success, to emulate that spirit. I try to be self reflective, with out being self-absorbed. I don't comment on other blogs, and include a link to this in my signature. I am interested in understanding my place in the world so I can be a decent person. Naturally, this self-reflection sometimes becomes connected to ego and problems arise. But I do try.
Mostly, I just fucking love Leonard Cohen.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Day 19: What to be?
At first, I wanted to be great.
Then, I strove to be good.
Now, I struggle with being okay.
Then, I strove to be good.
Now, I struggle with being okay.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Day 18: Love and Fear of Relativity
In my, not always, humble opinion the best thing about the human experience is the ability to consciously decide it for ourselves. Conversely, it is also the worst part of our lives. Humans are able to make decisions to be happy, sad, content or envious of any situation they are in. This is not to say we are unaffected by the forces of socialization or class relations, but individually we have the option. This also means we are continuously conscious of our decisions and able to reflect on and regurgitate them in our musings, which dislocates the possibility of moving through life without regrets.
Instead of moving through time, experiencing each moment and then moving on, we bring time with us as it passes and project our hope and fear into the future. We are able to change how we see the past, how we engage with the present and how we anticipate the future because of the curse of self-consciousness. This means in quiet moments we play scenes over and over, acting them out the way we wish we had. We run scenarios of future events that will never come to pass. We spend altogether too much time in our heads, and too often forget that we interact with the world through our bodies.
The embodied experience of life has a profound experience on how we see and understand the world. Exercising makes us feel better about the world, and our relationships through the biological processes at work. And yet, I spend more time thinking about how to engage with the world then living in the world. Maybe this is the price of being an introvert, but the double edge of self-consciousness is hard for me to balance on.
What does this mean? Maybe I need counselling. Maybe I just need to get out of my head more often. Or maybe, I just need to accept the facts of living and be okay with them.
Instead of moving through time, experiencing each moment and then moving on, we bring time with us as it passes and project our hope and fear into the future. We are able to change how we see the past, how we engage with the present and how we anticipate the future because of the curse of self-consciousness. This means in quiet moments we play scenes over and over, acting them out the way we wish we had. We run scenarios of future events that will never come to pass. We spend altogether too much time in our heads, and too often forget that we interact with the world through our bodies.
The embodied experience of life has a profound experience on how we see and understand the world. Exercising makes us feel better about the world, and our relationships through the biological processes at work. And yet, I spend more time thinking about how to engage with the world then living in the world. Maybe this is the price of being an introvert, but the double edge of self-consciousness is hard for me to balance on.
What does this mean? Maybe I need counselling. Maybe I just need to get out of my head more often. Or maybe, I just need to accept the facts of living and be okay with them.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Day 17: Buddydudeguy's Guide to Music--Growing up Hip
"We Are the Same" by The Tragically Hip
I was dragged into loving the Hip by circumstances beyond my control. I drove to hockey every week with an appropriately named 'Gord' and was forced to listen. At first I really disliked it, but eventually it broke the grip Alice Cooper, Motley Crue and Guns had over me. I grew up listening to the Hip, in both senses. This newest album is an extension of that process of growing up with the Hip.
"We Are the Same" is not an album my 20 year old self could have appreciated. The band has moved beyond bludgeoning themes of life and death with overt metaphors of serial killers and the girl who got away. This Hip are subtle, sublime and exacting in their exploration of life's struggles. There is still passion and wonder and an interest in those grand themes, but they have come to understand the significance in the details. Gord and the boys tell stories that connect to my life using brushstrokes like Monet, not the broad Pollock-esque frantic colour strokes of youth.
It is an interesting experience to grow up with a band. Too many bands call experimenting with new genres (think Zooropa)growth, or consider consistency of sound a virtue--because it might be financially--and re-produce new material. And of course, the Hip aren't the only band to change and grow more subtle in both their lyrics and instrumentation but there aren't a lot that are given the chance to try. This album is sympathetic to fraility, where once the band only explored and exposed those frailities--something I am more than passingly familiar with. This is an album for grown ups, for people beyond the white and black world of youth, without becoming cynical and jaded. It is joyful and moving and delicate in its spirit.
In other words, me likey.
I was dragged into loving the Hip by circumstances beyond my control. I drove to hockey every week with an appropriately named 'Gord' and was forced to listen. At first I really disliked it, but eventually it broke the grip Alice Cooper, Motley Crue and Guns had over me. I grew up listening to the Hip, in both senses. This newest album is an extension of that process of growing up with the Hip.
"We Are the Same" is not an album my 20 year old self could have appreciated. The band has moved beyond bludgeoning themes of life and death with overt metaphors of serial killers and the girl who got away. This Hip are subtle, sublime and exacting in their exploration of life's struggles. There is still passion and wonder and an interest in those grand themes, but they have come to understand the significance in the details. Gord and the boys tell stories that connect to my life using brushstrokes like Monet, not the broad Pollock-esque frantic colour strokes of youth.
It is an interesting experience to grow up with a band. Too many bands call experimenting with new genres (think Zooropa)growth, or consider consistency of sound a virtue--because it might be financially--and re-produce new material. And of course, the Hip aren't the only band to change and grow more subtle in both their lyrics and instrumentation but there aren't a lot that are given the chance to try. This album is sympathetic to fraility, where once the band only explored and exposed those frailities--something I am more than passingly familiar with. This is an album for grown ups, for people beyond the white and black world of youth, without becoming cynical and jaded. It is joyful and moving and delicate in its spirit.
In other words, me likey.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Day 15: 10 things which are less than great about growing old as a male, which would be far more devastating if I was a woman
1) Going Bald.
2) Looking more like my Dad.
3) The most plentiful growth of hair is from my eyebrows.
4) A dangling, unsightly scrotum that can be pulled to resemble bat wings.
5) Acting more like my Dad.
6) Back and shoulder hair
7) Smelling more like my Dad.
8) Increasing flop sweat which is causing me to seriously consider using talcum powder on the aforementioned bat wings.
9) The second most plentiful growth of hair is out of my nose.
10)Finally completing my set of hair-pants with a full crop of ass hair.
2) Looking more like my Dad.
3) The most plentiful growth of hair is from my eyebrows.
4) A dangling, unsightly scrotum that can be pulled to resemble bat wings.
5) Acting more like my Dad.
6) Back and shoulder hair
7) Smelling more like my Dad.
8) Increasing flop sweat which is causing me to seriously consider using talcum powder on the aforementioned bat wings.
9) The second most plentiful growth of hair is out of my nose.
10)Finally completing my set of hair-pants with a full crop of ass hair.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Day 14: Words I hate: part one
"craft"
I fucking loathe people who use craft as a noun. As in, I'm practicing my craft, or working on my craft.
Craft has become one of those pseudo-intellectual, pseudo-meaningful words in pop culture (see also: authentic) used by actors, writers and other wanna-be creative types. Actually, that is one of the things that bugs me, the use of it by people who insist on describing themselves as 'creative'. As if they are the only fucking people in the world capable of creativity. As if my Mom wasn't creative in making a single salary stretch to meet the needs of three kids. It is the attitude of entitlement over the concept which bothers me. We are creative, and practice our craft--you just have a job. Fuck off. You have the time, energy and finances to work on your 'craft' because people like my Mom worked hard and creatively to give you have a better life than they had.
Not surprisingly, the connection of the word to actor and writer types doubles up on the pet peeve of people who describe themselves in essentialized terms, who are really describing an occupation. Generally, the lack of self understanding annoys me. And, not too surprisingly, this comes from my own journey of figuring myself out. I used to be wildly unaware of myself, how I was viewed by others and how I fit with social groups. Then I started to pull my head out of my ass, grew up a bit and then went overboard with declarations of self-actualization--re-inserted head in ass, if you will. And finally I've come back to a more reasonable position about my understanding of life. But, such are the wild pendulum swings of my learning process. Or, as Bruce Lee described it: "Before I knew the art I thought a punch was just a punch and a kick was just a kick. Once I learned the art I knew that a punch was more than a punch and a kick was more than a kick. Now that I understand the art, I know that a punch is just a punch and a kick is just a kick". So, as with all things in life--and definitely this blog--take my rants as self-soothing as much as anything. But back to craft.
Do yourselves, and me, a favour and practice your skills, work on your 'acting', 'writing' etc. Just stay away from words that seem grandiose, but are mostly smug and self absorbed. Unless you are practicing 'the' craft which is okay. Sure, it might mark you as a wingnut, but who doesn't love themselves a delightfully crazy person who worships D&D figures? I'll take a magic loving wingnut over a run of the mill narcissist any day.
I fucking loathe people who use craft as a noun. As in, I'm practicing my craft, or working on my craft.
Craft has become one of those pseudo-intellectual, pseudo-meaningful words in pop culture (see also: authentic) used by actors, writers and other wanna-be creative types. Actually, that is one of the things that bugs me, the use of it by people who insist on describing themselves as 'creative'. As if they are the only fucking people in the world capable of creativity. As if my Mom wasn't creative in making a single salary stretch to meet the needs of three kids. It is the attitude of entitlement over the concept which bothers me. We are creative, and practice our craft--you just have a job. Fuck off. You have the time, energy and finances to work on your 'craft' because people like my Mom worked hard and creatively to give you have a better life than they had.
Not surprisingly, the connection of the word to actor and writer types doubles up on the pet peeve of people who describe themselves in essentialized terms, who are really describing an occupation. Generally, the lack of self understanding annoys me. And, not too surprisingly, this comes from my own journey of figuring myself out. I used to be wildly unaware of myself, how I was viewed by others and how I fit with social groups. Then I started to pull my head out of my ass, grew up a bit and then went overboard with declarations of self-actualization--re-inserted head in ass, if you will. And finally I've come back to a more reasonable position about my understanding of life. But, such are the wild pendulum swings of my learning process. Or, as Bruce Lee described it: "Before I knew the art I thought a punch was just a punch and a kick was just a kick. Once I learned the art I knew that a punch was more than a punch and a kick was more than a kick. Now that I understand the art, I know that a punch is just a punch and a kick is just a kick". So, as with all things in life--and definitely this blog--take my rants as self-soothing as much as anything. But back to craft.
Do yourselves, and me, a favour and practice your skills, work on your 'acting', 'writing' etc. Just stay away from words that seem grandiose, but are mostly smug and self absorbed. Unless you are practicing 'the' craft which is okay. Sure, it might mark you as a wingnut, but who doesn't love themselves a delightfully crazy person who worships D&D figures? I'll take a magic loving wingnut over a run of the mill narcissist any day.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Day 12+1: The dumbest thing I ever said?
In case you are wondering, I'm not superstituous, I'm just trying out a new base 12 numbering system. I figure we should make some use out of memorizing the times tables up to 12--screw base 10 I say.
The dumbest thing I ever said? (Or, at least in the top dozen).
I was at dinner with friends a few years back, just after Leonard Cohen's son had released his first album. The first single was getting some play on Much Music and I remember being pretty into it--although having listened to it again recently, it ain't that good. I also had / have a bit of a man-crush on Leonard Cohen. There is something about a fair to moderate looking dude who still manages to be a genuine ladies man that I found quite compelling.
I was thinking about Leonard and his poetry which explores the play of the sacred and the profane and couldn't figure out why he named his son what he had. So I asked the table of friends:
"Is Adam a biblical name"?
As soon as the words were spoken I remembered. And the great thing about friends is they don't forget things like that. Especially a bunch of literature loving dorks like I was hanging out with.
The dumbest thing I ever said? (Or, at least in the top dozen).
I was at dinner with friends a few years back, just after Leonard Cohen's son had released his first album. The first single was getting some play on Much Music and I remember being pretty into it--although having listened to it again recently, it ain't that good. I also had / have a bit of a man-crush on Leonard Cohen. There is something about a fair to moderate looking dude who still manages to be a genuine ladies man that I found quite compelling.
I was thinking about Leonard and his poetry which explores the play of the sacred and the profane and couldn't figure out why he named his son what he had. So I asked the table of friends:
"Is Adam a biblical name"?
As soon as the words were spoken I remembered. And the great thing about friends is they don't forget things like that. Especially a bunch of literature loving dorks like I was hanging out with.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Day 12: Buddydudeguy's Guide to Movies
It is pretty rare that I see a movie in the theatre, although I always love it. The first few minutes of any movie are incredibly cool. They bring me back to the best parts of my youth, like watching 'Star Wars' with my family. Or watching 'Back to the Future' with my buddy Wayne and his little bro who had to sit on his lap because the movie was packed.
Last night I saw 'One Week' with Joshua Jackson. It wasn't amazingly, wonderfully awesome but it was a happy little movie. Jackson's character gets diagnosed with cancer and decides he needs to have an adventure so he buys a vintage motorcycle and drives from Toronto to Tofino. Along the way the film is an ode to Canada's landscape and over sized structures.
A couple things, in particular, struck me while watching this movie. First, if you have done this drive many times--as I have--it really bumps you when things are shot out of sequence. Although, you could argue that the road trip is a metaphor and complete continuity misses the point. But, seeing the 'Big Stick' arena located in Winnipeg instead of Duncan, BC was troubling. The other thing that occurred to me was that this movie isn't perfect. That's a bit of a duh statement, but it is more than that. This movie wasn't trying to be perfect. And it seems to me this is a real aesthetic of Canadian film-making.
If you ever watched an Atom Egoyan film you've probably seen this story telling aesthetic in action. They are vignettes of the lives of people that don't have the Hollywood story arc we are used to. There is no definitive climax, no clean denouement and no easy determination of a moral message. In other words, they are a bit more like life. This is strange for those of us raised on Hollywood blockbusters, but it is comforting as well. You don't leave the film excited, ready for battle or convinced your soul mate is in the vicinity of where you just happen to live. But you do leave quietly inspired about the beauty of life and resilience of the human spirit.
So, I give 'One Week' a worth seeing recommendation. Just be prepared for a Canadian experience and to leave the theatre not quite positive how you felt.
Last night I saw 'One Week' with Joshua Jackson. It wasn't amazingly, wonderfully awesome but it was a happy little movie. Jackson's character gets diagnosed with cancer and decides he needs to have an adventure so he buys a vintage motorcycle and drives from Toronto to Tofino. Along the way the film is an ode to Canada's landscape and over sized structures.
A couple things, in particular, struck me while watching this movie. First, if you have done this drive many times--as I have--it really bumps you when things are shot out of sequence. Although, you could argue that the road trip is a metaphor and complete continuity misses the point. But, seeing the 'Big Stick' arena located in Winnipeg instead of Duncan, BC was troubling. The other thing that occurred to me was that this movie isn't perfect. That's a bit of a duh statement, but it is more than that. This movie wasn't trying to be perfect. And it seems to me this is a real aesthetic of Canadian film-making.
If you ever watched an Atom Egoyan film you've probably seen this story telling aesthetic in action. They are vignettes of the lives of people that don't have the Hollywood story arc we are used to. There is no definitive climax, no clean denouement and no easy determination of a moral message. In other words, they are a bit more like life. This is strange for those of us raised on Hollywood blockbusters, but it is comforting as well. You don't leave the film excited, ready for battle or convinced your soul mate is in the vicinity of where you just happen to live. But you do leave quietly inspired about the beauty of life and resilience of the human spirit.
So, I give 'One Week' a worth seeing recommendation. Just be prepared for a Canadian experience and to leave the theatre not quite positive how you felt.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Day 10: So, you're a writer are you?
Amongst the many pet peeves I have, because I tend towards pettiness, is random people claiming they are writers when they don't write for a living, or publish any of their writing. And no, self publishing a blog, or donating your writing to a free website that is desperate for content does not count. They both count as places to improve your writing skills, but just writing things doesn't make you a writer--just like telling a convincing lie doesn't make you an actor.
Put simply, writers, actors, musicians, artists are all names of professions. If your primary income comes from one of these things then feel free to introduce yourself as such. Or, preferably introduce yourself with your name and let people discover the variety of things that makes you interesting. And, if asked about what you do, try "I am graduate student, which lets me pay the bills and will lead to my career, but what I am really passionate about is writing". This sort of introduction has two benefits. First, you don't come off as a pompous self-deluded ass who insults the ability and efforts of the many talented writers who work very hard to scrape out a living at it. Second, by using the phrase 'what I am really passionate about' I know to extricate myself from the conversation and begin ignoring your existence.
But, to be slightly more serious I have a fundamental problem with these sorts of self descriptions. I don't think the world needs to be separated into descriptions of 'self as commodity', but that doesn't mean the only other answer is essentializing bullshit. I'm a writer. I'm an actor. I'm a singer. These are all immature self-descriptions. Try being a well-rounded and reasonable human being (says the dude who describes himself as leaning towards pettiness). If you love writing, and it is important to you, then fucking say that. If you really wish to be a writer but have another job, then say that too. Nobody will think less of you--and by nobody I mean no reasonable adult--if you say "I really want to be a singer, it's the thing that excites me most in life but I work as a teacher to pay the bills". See, not so tough and now you sound like you understand that life is more complicated than one word descriptions of a person's essence.
I just would love if people had some sense of themselves, and gave some thoughts to their place in the world. I like role-playing games. Does that mean if I was hanging out with Tom Hanks and Bobby DeNiro I should claim to be an actor too? Of course not, that is self-aggrandizing and insulting to them. Maybe that's a big part of my pet peeve--people who so casually insult the people around them, without knowing it. If you are going to insult someone, be deliberate. That's my move.
Put simply, writers, actors, musicians, artists are all names of professions. If your primary income comes from one of these things then feel free to introduce yourself as such. Or, preferably introduce yourself with your name and let people discover the variety of things that makes you interesting. And, if asked about what you do, try "I am graduate student, which lets me pay the bills and will lead to my career, but what I am really passionate about is writing". This sort of introduction has two benefits. First, you don't come off as a pompous self-deluded ass who insults the ability and efforts of the many talented writers who work very hard to scrape out a living at it. Second, by using the phrase 'what I am really passionate about' I know to extricate myself from the conversation and begin ignoring your existence.
But, to be slightly more serious I have a fundamental problem with these sorts of self descriptions. I don't think the world needs to be separated into descriptions of 'self as commodity', but that doesn't mean the only other answer is essentializing bullshit. I'm a writer. I'm an actor. I'm a singer. These are all immature self-descriptions. Try being a well-rounded and reasonable human being (says the dude who describes himself as leaning towards pettiness). If you love writing, and it is important to you, then fucking say that. If you really wish to be a writer but have another job, then say that too. Nobody will think less of you--and by nobody I mean no reasonable adult--if you say "I really want to be a singer, it's the thing that excites me most in life but I work as a teacher to pay the bills". See, not so tough and now you sound like you understand that life is more complicated than one word descriptions of a person's essence.
I just would love if people had some sense of themselves, and gave some thoughts to their place in the world. I like role-playing games. Does that mean if I was hanging out with Tom Hanks and Bobby DeNiro I should claim to be an actor too? Of course not, that is self-aggrandizing and insulting to them. Maybe that's a big part of my pet peeve--people who so casually insult the people around them, without knowing it. If you are going to insult someone, be deliberate. That's my move.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Day 9: Making the old new again
I love to listen to the same song over and over again. I will watch the same movie time and again, instead of renting a new one. I have watched certain t.v. series multiple times. And this is not because I am easily amused--although I am. It is because I discover new things with each listening, with each watching, with each experience.
Perhaps this is just reader response theory 101, that the text is always a synthesis of the words and the reader, and when the text is read the reader changes so a re-read is a new experience. Maybe it is being an introvert and preferring my own head space to almost anything else. Watching something new means I have to find someone to discuss it with, to fulfill the social experience. If I rewatch something, I can have that conversation with myself.
This brings me to the latest tune I am beating into the ground, "Morning Moon" by the Tragically Hip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTR9zohx058
Fucking great.
Speaking of great, this is also fucking great:
http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/john_hodgman_s_brief_digression.html
Go forth and do something again, for the first time.
Perhaps this is just reader response theory 101, that the text is always a synthesis of the words and the reader, and when the text is read the reader changes so a re-read is a new experience. Maybe it is being an introvert and preferring my own head space to almost anything else. Watching something new means I have to find someone to discuss it with, to fulfill the social experience. If I rewatch something, I can have that conversation with myself.
This brings me to the latest tune I am beating into the ground, "Morning Moon" by the Tragically Hip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTR9zohx058
Fucking great.
Speaking of great, this is also fucking great:
http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/john_hodgman_s_brief_digression.html
Go forth and do something again, for the first time.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Day 8.5: Is Tiger the greatest athlete of all time?
Say it with me people: "Tiger is not an athlete".
Okay, that's unfair. He might be. Unfortunately he plays golf so we will never know. He is incredibly talented, and great under pressure, but HE PLAYS GOLF. To be in the conversation about athletic prowess you need to be involved in a sport that takes athletic prowess--it's not a complicated formula. I won't say golf isn't difficult, sure it is. But, so are darts, bowling and poker and they sure as fuck don't require athletic ability.
So, talk about Tiger's golf greatness. Talk about Tiger's ability to perform under pressure. But, please please please do not bring up 'athlete' and Tiger until he gives up golf and starts a sport involving extreme physicality. And for the stupid argument that golf is an athletic endeavour because it takes some coordination and mental toughness, so does ever other sport in the world. Plus, they take athletic ability.
Tiger=great golfer
Tiger=incredible under pressure
Tiger might = athlete, but we don't know that because he golfs.
Okay, that's unfair. He might be. Unfortunately he plays golf so we will never know. He is incredibly talented, and great under pressure, but HE PLAYS GOLF. To be in the conversation about athletic prowess you need to be involved in a sport that takes athletic prowess--it's not a complicated formula. I won't say golf isn't difficult, sure it is. But, so are darts, bowling and poker and they sure as fuck don't require athletic ability.
So, talk about Tiger's golf greatness. Talk about Tiger's ability to perform under pressure. But, please please please do not bring up 'athlete' and Tiger until he gives up golf and starts a sport involving extreme physicality. And for the stupid argument that golf is an athletic endeavour because it takes some coordination and mental toughness, so does ever other sport in the world. Plus, they take athletic ability.
Tiger=great golfer
Tiger=incredible under pressure
Tiger might = athlete, but we don't know that because he golfs.
Day 8: One thing my Mother told me that I know to be true
As it turns out, sticking your finger in your eye is a bad idea.
Fuck, my eye is bugging me.
And I don't suspect itching it more, or rooting around in it again will help.
Fuck, my eye is bugging me.
And I don't suspect itching it more, or rooting around in it again will help.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Day 7: Even Harder than Math
A comment on my last post suggested this blog has changed since the first few posts. This was said in jest, but it makes me question what this blog is really about. It is about compelling myself to write every day, but what else?
To answer this I pick up from the last line of the previous post, which said something about remembering and forgetting. This is a line from someone much smarter and, more importantly, much wiser than me who said 'life is a game of remembering and forgetting'. And not to overstate things, but this is one of the truest things I've ever heard. This leads to the next question: what am I trying to remember that I continue to forget?
There are many answers to this, depending on the day, the time, my mood, etc. Right now it is to remember to enjoy this moment. This doesn't mean shirking all responsibility in favour of napping and watching t.v. It is both more serious and more profound than that. It means learning to be present in your life, and to enjoy each experience, at the moment it happens without falling into the easy trap of projecting ourselves into the future of where we want to be. It means learning to enjoy writing this silly little blog, independent of readership or commentary. It means finding the joy and embodied exuberance in hard work. It means enjoying whatever the present moment brings.
It is this experience of the present that allows understanding and appreciation of difficult times. It is hard to learn the lessons of life when you are constantly engaged in fantasy. This is not to say that being present is a panacea for all grief and heartache, or that fantasy isn't an important tool of the imagination. And disassociation is preferable in the most extreme situations. I am not a monk, nor have the inclination to try to follow that path so I wouldn't suggest being present in moments of exquisite pain and suffering. But perhaps being present in more moments would allow us to realize that we can experience joy and satisfaction in times and places we normally use to disconnect. Maybe I can find joy in the moments of working I used to dread. And if I can do that, maybe hard work becomes more than something to get through, and can become something to engage in.
And that is much harder than math.
To answer this I pick up from the last line of the previous post, which said something about remembering and forgetting. This is a line from someone much smarter and, more importantly, much wiser than me who said 'life is a game of remembering and forgetting'. And not to overstate things, but this is one of the truest things I've ever heard. This leads to the next question: what am I trying to remember that I continue to forget?
There are many answers to this, depending on the day, the time, my mood, etc. Right now it is to remember to enjoy this moment. This doesn't mean shirking all responsibility in favour of napping and watching t.v. It is both more serious and more profound than that. It means learning to be present in your life, and to enjoy each experience, at the moment it happens without falling into the easy trap of projecting ourselves into the future of where we want to be. It means learning to enjoy writing this silly little blog, independent of readership or commentary. It means finding the joy and embodied exuberance in hard work. It means enjoying whatever the present moment brings.
It is this experience of the present that allows understanding and appreciation of difficult times. It is hard to learn the lessons of life when you are constantly engaged in fantasy. This is not to say that being present is a panacea for all grief and heartache, or that fantasy isn't an important tool of the imagination. And disassociation is preferable in the most extreme situations. I am not a monk, nor have the inclination to try to follow that path so I wouldn't suggest being present in moments of exquisite pain and suffering. But perhaps being present in more moments would allow us to realize that we can experience joy and satisfaction in times and places we normally use to disconnect. Maybe I can find joy in the moments of working I used to dread. And if I can do that, maybe hard work becomes more than something to get through, and can become something to engage in.
And that is much harder than math.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Day 6: Math is Hard
Today I am continuing, after many starts and stops, my project of working a bit each and every day. Too often I have put off work because I did not have hours and hours to dedicate to reading and writing. But, as it turns out, if you work for only half an hour every day in a week you would have a half day of work accomplished. And for all of us semi-professional procrastinators (ie Grad Students) 3.5 hours of reading and writing is most of a book, or several articles, or a few pages of writing. Perhaps this is why I dropped out of sciences in my undergrad. I couldn't multiply 30 x 7 and realize that 210 minutes is enough to accomplish something. In my defence most of my undergrad I was drunk or hungover or actively disinterested in learning.
So, today I remembered, tomorrow I might forget, but life is all about remembering and forgetting.
So, today I remembered, tomorrow I might forget, but life is all about remembering and forgetting.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Day 5: Up and at 'Em
You know what is a great way to get yourself going in the morning? Try getting yourself going. It seems so obvious now that I write it. Maybe Nike was on to something-'Just Do It'. Wow, this changes everything. This could revolutionize morning routines everywhere. Get up, have a shower, get dressed, just get yourself going.
What!?! This is the normal routine for every working person in the world. Huh, interesting.
Um, never mind.
Graduate Students: reiterating the blatantly obvious since Plato.
What!?! This is the normal routine for every working person in the world. Huh, interesting.
Um, never mind.
Graduate Students: reiterating the blatantly obvious since Plato.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Day 4: D! Fence! D! Fence!
I am up nice and early. Some, me for instance, might say too early. But I have a couple hours left to prepare for my comp defence. I probably hoped sometime in my naive youth that I wouldn't be preparing last minute, once I reached my PhD. I guess we all have to play to our strengths. Especially if we are uninterested in personal or professional growth. And really, if grad school is about anything else, it is about extending the period of youth when personal growth isn't a priority for many years.
I come to this comp of two minds. I am happy for the progress and for the praise I yearn for so greatly. (Nice call in the comments, mysterious, and I assume handsome, stranger). But, I also fear the closing of my adolescence and the horizon of adulthood. And I mean real adulthood, where work, finances, and family commitments are forefronted; not the faux adulthood of academic blowhards who think critically analyzing everything and everyone is a marker of being grown up.
As it turns out, being an adult is more about accepting frailty in yourself and others, than pointing it out. And for someone who has built his life on exposing, and mocking the failures of himself, and others, growing into adulthood does not play to my strengths.
So, wish me luck but not godspeed. I need a couple more years of self-absorption before I'm ready to be the person my Dad was at 20.
For Fuck's sake, I'm not even 40 yet, give me some time.
I come to this comp of two minds. I am happy for the progress and for the praise I yearn for so greatly. (Nice call in the comments, mysterious, and I assume handsome, stranger). But, I also fear the closing of my adolescence and the horizon of adulthood. And I mean real adulthood, where work, finances, and family commitments are forefronted; not the faux adulthood of academic blowhards who think critically analyzing everything and everyone is a marker of being grown up.
As it turns out, being an adult is more about accepting frailty in yourself and others, than pointing it out. And for someone who has built his life on exposing, and mocking the failures of himself, and others, growing into adulthood does not play to my strengths.
So, wish me luck but not godspeed. I need a couple more years of self-absorption before I'm ready to be the person my Dad was at 20.
For Fuck's sake, I'm not even 40 yet, give me some time.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Day 3: the downside of mental work
I feel like fried ass. I can't get my shit together enough to work. Perhaps I am just being lazy and making myself feel better, but reading and writing while sick is a huge stumbling block for me. Maybe I should nap. Maybe I should tell my spouse I can't go out this evening, so I can prepare for my defence tomorrow. Or maybe, just maybe, I should stop listening to podcasts and writing inane blog posts and do the work. Bold I know.
argh.
argh.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Day 2 Post: Besides Me, What is this blog about?
The simple answer: I don't know.
People, despite what they think, are terrible predictors of their own future. And, being a people, so am I. I want this blog to serve a purpose for myself. I want to practice writing daily, follow that time honoured tradition that writers, write. Of course, as my 'about me' says, I am not a real writer. But, writing is a big part of the job of academics, and a skill I have taken forgranted for far too long. I don't know what I will write each day on this thing, or if it will be interesting to anyone but me, but I am going to write, edit, and re-edit posts. In short, this blog is a space to practice writing.
Could I do a journal? Sure. And I do sometimes. But I hope this causes me to practice more frequently.
Happy Monday everyone.
People, despite what they think, are terrible predictors of their own future. And, being a people, so am I. I want this blog to serve a purpose for myself. I want to practice writing daily, follow that time honoured tradition that writers, write. Of course, as my 'about me' says, I am not a real writer. But, writing is a big part of the job of academics, and a skill I have taken forgranted for far too long. I don't know what I will write each day on this thing, or if it will be interesting to anyone but me, but I am going to write, edit, and re-edit posts. In short, this blog is a space to practice writing.
Could I do a journal? Sure. And I do sometimes. But I hope this causes me to practice more frequently.
Happy Monday everyone.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
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