Rebirthdays.

Monica coined this term tonight while we were discussing birthdays, and how the actual birthday is usually pretty lame. People are caught up in other events and forget our birthdays, so the day we actually get to celebrate with our friends is henceforth known as the "rebirthday". Here's looking back at a few memorable rebirthdays in the past:

13th rebirthday
I invited a few girls to my house after school for a small "birthday party", back when I still had energy to plan silly little games. I made a small quiz and they had to answer questions to win the little toys that comprised their 'loot bag'. One part of the quiz was naming parts of the eye because we had just learned eye anatomy in science class. Yes, I am a huge dork.

year unknown, high school
A sizable group friends and I went to Pickle Barrel to have dinner. We found out that they don't give free cake on birthdays, but they will bring a pickle to your table and sing if you want. When it came time to pay the bill, it was a struggle (as splitting the bill always is) but we finally managed it and got up to leave after triple-counting. Moments later the wait staff came chasing after us, saying that we didn't pay enough by $40. (Young hooligans!) After being satisfied with the amount of mayhem they had caused, they eventually 'found' the rest of the money 'under a plate'.

year unknown, high school
My friends and I went skating at Mel Lastman Square. Tristan and I decided to play tag around the rink, and I nearly ran over the same kid twice. (His mother was not impressed. Young hooligans!) Later in the evening everyone came back to my house for cake. And pictures. (My parents' idea.) This might have been the year Tristan and Kevin gave me the hockey stick I used (up until next year - I got a new stick!). There was some year where we tried to go to Mel Lastman to play pickup hockey after the rink was closed and then got kicked out... but probably not this one.

21st birthday
I was shopping in the states with my family, my cousin's family, and another close family of friends. It wasn't until 3pm while we were having lunch at Wendy's that my sister remembered it was my birthday. We left around 6 to head home, and didn't even get to have a proper dinner. I sat in the back of my dad's van eating the crumbs from the bottom of a chip bag with my iPod on, trying to drown out the Chinese opera music my dad was blasting.

21st rebirthday
I volunteered at Evergreen from 1-4:30, and at 6, some friends and I went to Pickle Barrel at Yonge & Dundas for dinner, thus solidifying my identity as the Pickle Barrel Queen because apparently my friends never go to PB unless under my suggestion. Five of my high school friends came, and Little Jon. After dinner, Jen and Adrian So came over to my house to play Guitar Hero, which we acquired for our Wii while shopping in the States.
Little Jon's thoughts on meeting my friends: ""if u guys talked a bit faster itd be like gilmore girls".

I love rebirthdays.

Backseat boarders.

Brenda and I decided to go snowboarding today. She got a new board recently and wanted to try it out, and I inherited her old one and was anxious to give snowboarding another try after nearly giving myself a concussion two years ago. We put everything in the car and headed out around 10 am. Our destination was Dagmar Resort, out in Uxbridge.
We finally arrived around 10:45, after nearly getting lost on all the unmarked roads. We bought lift tickets, suited up, and hit the slopes.
I decided to start off on the bunny hill and figure out this whole toe edge business. Last time I boarded, I spent the whole time on my heel, or on my butt. I overheard this one guy teaching two girls how to board, and tried to pick up some pointers from them. But I didn't want to do the exact same drill that they were running, or they'd know I was stealing hints.
Anyway, I was still thoroughly crappy for several hours, but I managed to make it down the hill facing the top (so backwards) without flipping entirely over like I was wont to do.
Brenda and I met up around 1 o'clock. She had started off on the bunny hill with me, but went off to other hills after a bit since she's already pretty comfortable on her board. We went to the lodge to grab a bite, and then afterwards, I decided to try the green hill with her. It's a longer hill, so I can actually do something before reaching the bottom. Plus, it's got a proper chair lift, which is faster than the conveyor belt thing that brings you up on the bunny hill.
My goal for the last bit of our snowboarding day was to learn how to turn and use both edges going down the hill. Turning onto my heel edge was okay for me, but I'd always wipe out turning right, onto my toe edge. (I go down left foot first.) So I set off and totally wiped out going down the first stretch, trying to turn onto my toe. As I picked myself up, I heard voices from the sky. I looked up and saw two guys - one in a red jacket, the other in a green jacket and army-fatigue snowpants - yelling belligerently at me from the chair lift.
I stared confusedly at them, and the green guy continued to yell something about leaning onto my toe... or heel? By that time, they had passed me, so I just shook it off and made my way down the rest of the hill.
For the rest of the afternoon, they'd keep yelling things at me from the chair lift. Random things including such words as "Heel", "toe", "lean", "edge", and "momentum". On one run, I was trying to turn (and failing), and one of the guys was yelling, "HEEL!! HEEL!"
I was panicked. "HEEL?!?!" I called back. And they replied, "HEEL!"
So I went onto my heel, and promptly wiped out.
After a few runs I was starting to get the hang of turning, so when they saw that I was doing alright, they'd whistle or go "YEAH!" until I got so self-conscious and nervous that I'd wipe again. (Then they'd go "NoOooO".) It got so irritating that I'd try to time my runs so they'd just be at the top of the hill when I went down, or I'd be at the bottom of the hill (where I wiped out less) when they were overtop of me, so I wouldn't look so novice anymore. They would never talk to me at the top or bottom of the hill, like normal people though. They'd just keep shouting from the safety of their overheard carriage like some sort of sports commentator.
The only thing that gave me satisfaction was when it was my turn to watch them from the lift and the guy in the red jacket ran into a pole.

Things.

Things I did this exam period
☑ only buy coffee in a lug-a-mug
☑ sleep for twelve hours one night
☑ write Christmas cards
☑ finish reading Can You Keep a Secret
☑ eat a Tim's breakfast sandwich (3, to be exact)
☑ Study and make eye jokes with Katie and Heather
☑ Watch the Back for Good music video a million times
☑ Eat ratatouille
☑ Pick up my diagnostic kit

Things to do over the holidays
❒ play Wii
❒ have a facial
❒ see h/s friends
❒ bake... a lot
❒ play piano
❒ sing Christmas carols
❒ watch a movie in theatre
❒ print pictures
❒ sharpen my skates
❒ cook dinner for the family
❒ have bubbletea with Deb
❒ renew my driver's license
❒ have a KFC chicken bowl
❒ try snowboarding again
❒ get binders for next term
❒ get good at ophthalmoscopy (I just practiced on my mum and saw nothing)
❒ have a drink in the States (I'll be legal!)

What are your holiday plans?

Cheque this out.

Because of all the money I've spent of late, eating out and buying exam snacks, I logged in to check my bank account information today. I started banking with PC Financial in university because there are no fees, the interest rates are good, you get unlimited free cheques, and you can use CIBC bank machines, which are readily available on campus. I also have the PC credit card so I can get points to spend towards... groceries, I guess?
PC Financial doesn't have any branches, which works out fine for me because I prefer to do my banking online. I check my account every once in awhile to check my balance, see if checks went through, pay bills, move money... Anyway, the newest feature that I noticed today is that images of checks that have been processed are actually available under the transaction history! So if you don't remember what "CHEQUE #49" for $58.43 was made out for (and if you've lost the duplicate), you can click the link and see a picture of it!

Anyway, that was my random "that's-so-cool" moment for the day.

It's Christmastime in the regional municipality.

While the rest of the world is putting up Christmas lights and malls start playing Christmas music, December means only one thing for Waterloo students: exams. In the past, Christmas trees, carols, and cookies were the last things on my mind. I never finished exams till the 20-something-eth of December, so by the time I got home, the big day was already too close to properly appreciate the hype.
This year proved to be different. First of all, we have our first ever real Christmas tree. On Tuesday, mum and I put on a Christmas CD and decorated the tree, selecting ornaments from our stash of decade-old baubles that would be fitting. When we finished, my fingers were all sticky with sap, and the tree was decked out beautifully! Unfortunately I didn't plan ahead so there wasn't enough time to bake cookies, but that can wait till I am done exams.
When I got back to school, I had to transition back into exam mode. I was delving into my microbiology notes when, around midmorning, the Conrad Grebel choir started singing carols outside the DC entrance. And then later some reps from the food bank came around giving candy canes to everybody.
'Tis the season to be jolly.. even if we do have to study!

What's in a home?

Having four walls and my belongings with me in Waterloo while I'm at school gets the job done, but there's definitely something special about entering my home in Toronto after a long absence and letting myself be overwhelmed with all the memories and emotions that fill it. My lovely friend Bee is in the process of registering for household gifts, which prompted some reflection on what a 'home' really is. What do you need to have in a house to make it a home? The obvious answer is the people: home is where your family and loved ones are. But I think it also has to do with familiarity: knowing which floorboards to avoid so they don't creak, where the best groove is on the couch, and exactly how fast to run in socks so you can stop in time to not fall down the stairs.
This time, though home is still generally the same, there have been a few changes since I was last here at Thanksgiving.

1. We have a Christmas tree. A real one! Mumsie and I will decorate it this afternoon when she gets home!
2. We have a new massage chair that reclines and basically massages your whole body - neck and shoulders, waist, butt, legs, feet. It is heavenly.
3. There's food in the fridge! And lots of fresh fruit and snacks. I'll get to stuff myself well for a couple days till I have to go back and have nothing to eat.
4. They eat brown rice. My mom's on a health kick. But she doesn't even eat rice at dinner! So she is on a kick to make everyone else eat healthier too I guess.

I have to get back to studying so I'll have had done something before my mom and sister come home from work.
Another thing I was thinking is that the one-year death anniversary of my dog is approaching and I miss her, psycho or not.


A house is made of walls and beams;
a home is built with love and dreams.

Take this.

Back For Good by Take That is a song that holds a special place in my heart. I'm not really sure why. Sure, it's a good soft song. It reminds me of watching music videos on TV with my sister, I guess when she was just getting into the pop-music-obsessive teenage stage, and music videos used to be cool, and I was exposed to whatever she was infatuated with. I also remember clearly that one day I was blowdrying my hair at the edge of my parents' bed and my sister told me to shut up because Take That was having a press conference to announce that they were breaking up, and I didn't see why that was a big deal. The music video for Back For Good is very distinct; it's greyscale, and they're singing in the rain, which the Backstreet Boys (in my opinion?) later mimicked in their Quit Playing Games video.
Anyway I looked it up on Youtube today for fun, and when I watched the whole thing through again, I was flabbergasted at a) how boring it was, and b) how bad they dance. Most music videos that I can think of usually had some sort of plot, and/or crazy sets and costumes. They are just sitting around, singing and playing guitar in the rain. And dancing. Their dancing is absolutely atrocious, compounding my assertion that white boys can't dance. I felt sort of bad watching after awhile. So I guess in a way it's good, because it'll make me get back to studying now.
And here goes... my first time posting a video.

Saturday lurve hiatus.

Mmm, Saturday morning. I cleaned the whole apartment this morning, had breakfast (oatmeal and a mug of hot orange pekoe), and read/am reading The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

In the kitchen she saw that Krista had left her geometry homework on the table. Carmen eyed it lustfully. Krista had left off in the middle of the second proof, and there were eight more to do.
The house was silent. She grabbed the papers. She studied them and grabbed the pencil too. She began working. Geometric proofs were pure joy. You started out with both the problem and the solution.

That is the sort of enthusiasm I need for this exam season. I am tired and restless and want to get out of Waterloo, to go home to see my family and friends. I want to put up a Christmas tree, and bake cookies and pies and brownies. I want to catch up with old friends, and play with my diagnostic kit (I chose Heine).

For the next two Saturdays, I will have exams at 9 am: perception and anatomy, respectively. So I have to soak in as much as I can of this last beautiful Saturday morning. I'm gonna keep reading and make some lunch, and hopefully hit perception for a bit before hockey tonight.

Happy studying!!

Decisions, decisions.

On entering optometry, I knew that I'd be shelling out big bucks buying equipment that I can barely pronounce. I evaded the lens kit selection process because I ordered one through a connection, but now that diagnostic kits need to be bought, I have to get my feet in the water and start actually choosing products on my own. It's hard to choose equipment that we have barely even learned to use. I don't even really know what to look for! People say to just go for whatever feels good, but you'd get used to whatever you owned anyway. There are so many things to consider: handles, lenses, batteries, warranty, customer service, to name a few.
So here is the breakdown, more for my sake than anyone else's:

Welch-Allyn They did the first presentation, and impressed us all with the plastic-resin handles that come with a sleeve to plug directly into a socket. The feel of the o-scope is good, maybe because I'm the most used to it and got to try it out in anatomy lab. The ret seemed hard to turn though, I'm not sure if it was just that particular one that was on display. Welch-Allyn also offers the patented PanOptic, which is a fun novelty for getting a larger view of the retina but not really necessary. And after seeing the other two companies, this one just looks a little bit cheaper than the others. It's the leader in medical diagnostic equipment but I'm not sure if they specialize in optical/ophthalmic instruments.

Keeler This is a British manufacturer that supposedly has perfect optics. The guy who did the presentation brought us donuts and muffins from Tim Horton's when he was supposed to be bringing us dinner. Anyway, that shouldn't be relevant to the decision at hand. The Keeler handles felt just a little bit too long to be comfortable, although they have nice rubber grips that come in an assortment of colours. My friends and I then got into an animated discussion about whether it'd be unprofessional to have pink handles.

Heine (pronounched high-nah, not heiney) This is a German company, and offers also the most expensive set. You have the option of purchasing skinny or fat handles (or one of each), but the skinny handle uses a nickel-metal-hydride battery and has only 45-min of on-time, and the fat lithium handles seem a little bit too fat. However Heine (and Keeler) have the option of being powered by batteries (AA or C) in case you run out of battery or want to do missions where you might not be able to charge [easily].



So there's a glimpse into ophthalmic instruments for you. I'll have my mind made by the next post.

Thoughts on soup.

Even though it's only 10:30 in the morning, I was bored so I decided to make lunch - mushroom soup (with some broccoli and saltines). I had one bowl happily, but now I'm sort of forcing this second bowl down. I don't like saving mushroom soup because it forms an icky skin on the surface.
I like canned soup because it's easy and delicious, and comes with an assortment of memories.
My dad loves 'ABC soup' (vegetable soup) so growing up we would often have it to accompany dinner. My dad is a shameless pennypincher though, and liked to dilute the condensed soup as much as possible. One time, he tried to feed our family of four with one can of soup. It tasted like... orange water.
I think I still preferred that to when my dad made mushroom soup though. He adds water instead of milk (how exactly can you get cream of mushroom soup when you don't add any milk?) and doesn't keep it on the heat long enough to get the lumps out. It would turn out as grey water with white lumps. I hated mushroom soup until I went to university and started making it on my own, the proper way.
Another thing I learned when I went to university is how to use a manual can opener. That made enjoying canned soup a lot easier.
Please enjoy these Warhol paintings while I finish my soup. A fun bit of trivia for you: The original painting of a can of Campbell's tomato soup sold for $1,500 in the 1960s.

Rising.

This week on Grey's Anatomy, one of Miranda's patients was a White supremacist who made no secret of his dislike of and distrust towards Black people. Miranda's response, instead of assigning him to a different doctor, was to take the insult, be professional, and rise above it.
In life, when other people are jerks, when they add insult to injury, when it seems easier to dig your heels in the sand and be spiteful just because you can, sometimes you have to take the high road.

We constantly pray for you that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him. -2 Thess. 1:11-12

"Don't cross me while I'm busy rising." -Miranda

The giving season.

Since I am bored of working on my microbio assignment, I'm going to take a break to post (even though I only started working at 12:30 and have taken breaks to have lunch and watch America's Next Top Model). I have finished the written portion of my project though, and only have to make the presentation slides. Other things I have accomplished today include going to church and filling my shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child.
The sermon today was the first of a four-week series on money issues. We were prompted to make a goal for the series, and consider what it means to be materialistic and whether we consider ourselves to be materialistic.
I think my goal for the series is going to be to increase my giving to the church and to others. During 8 months of the year when I am at school, my tithing is next to none because I don't make any money. I also wonder about whether I should tithe to Creekside, where I go for most of the year, or Malvern, which I still consider to be my home church and which I feel needs more financial support than Creekside. I also am really lame with giving presents because I never know what people need, and usually consider buying novelties to be a waste of money (and materialistic!). But when my sister bought me pajamas, I was glad that she thought of me and bought me something, even though I don't really "need" a matching pajama set. So this year I am determined to put more effort into buying Christmas gifts so that people I love will know that I care.
Anyway, after church, I went to Dollarama to get items for my shoeboxes. After the sermon, I wanted even more to make a nice box for a child who is less fortunate than me. They say that giving is contagious, so hopefully by the end of this series, I'll be able to loosen the drawstrings on my purse and be more generous. I started by stepping up my game - two boxes this year instead of one!

I love...cake.

Today was a monumental occasion. It was the first time... my family ever came to visit me in Waterloo. (Well there was a time last year when my parents came to visit when Brenda and I were both in school... but this time everyone came just for me.)
They arrived this afternoon around 1:30, bearing gifts. Brenda bought me flannel pajamas from La Senza. Pink flannel pjs. With a cake print! Anyway I nearly died on the spot (and went to heaven), this nighttime outfit has 'fat kid' written all over. I love it! I usually don't wear long clothes or button-up shirts to sleep, but it'll probably be nice to have for cold winter nights.Just for kicks I decided to pop the collar in this shot and pretend like I'm all that.. yaa you all wish you had cake pajamas.

Life is simpler with a Mac.

One reason I decided to get a Macbook is that my friend promised everything would be easier, and things would just work. Since I hate computers, and have had experience working with Macs in high school, I decided that could only be a good thing.
Today while working on an assignment, I had to install something to import references. Here are the instructions on how to do so.Of course the program-thing didn't end up working like it was supposed to anyway, but I just thought this was amusing.

Looking for God in a cathedral.

This past weekend when I was in Montreal, my friends and I all paid the admission to enter the Notre Dame Basilica. I remember seeing the cathedral when I was younger and visited the city with my family. But of course we didn't pay to go inside of it; we just took pictures from the exterior and went on our way. I guess we all wanted to get out of the cold badly enough this time though.
Going inside old cathedrals always stirs up a lot of memories. (Now the Notre Dame Basilica will be added to that store.) It makes me think of grade eleven art class, when we learned about Gothic architecture. We learned about the front facade of all (I think) cathedrals have three doors, with the central one being larger than the others. There's a stained glass window, called the rose window, above it. We learned terms like vaults and flying buttresses, which I no longer know how to employ. The interior of the cathedral is cross-shaped, and the long aisle is called the nave. The top of the cross is called the ambulatory, and I think that's where the choir would sit.
I've taken all that knowledge with me (the best that I can), whenever I am inside a cathedral. I was in the Toronto Children's Chorus for several years, and we often performed in churches because the acoustics are amazing. Having said that, cathedrals also remind me of choir - red dresses, black patent shoes, blue music bags and all. Our pianist, an elderly lady named Mrs. Henderson, was incredibly skilled. Sometimes I'd be mesmerized just watching her aged fingers rippled effortlessly over the keys. (I was short, so I was always in the first or second row, close enough to the piano.) She also played the organ, so for the more majestic pieces, she would disappear up to the organ loft and accompany us with the appropriate grandeur.
My next post-choir memory of cathedrals is my trip to France in July 2003. I spent four weeks surrounded by gorgeous European architecture, learning about the French language and culture. While I was there, I naturally visited the famous Notre Dame Cathedral and the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur. I even attended a mass service at the Notre Dame, because I hadn't been to church at all during my trip. It was definitely an interesting experience... my first time at a mass, combined with my inability to understand anything the bishop was saying.
This past summer, while working at Evergreen, a new dimension was added to my perspective on Gothic churches though. During the street walk that my friends and I did, we went into a church where they were running a dinner program. We sat in the pews, all greasy and tired and cranky, and listened to a guy sing and talk before we were led to another room to be fed. That time, the grandeur of the church felt more hollow, as if the high ceilings and wide nave were meant to give God more space so He could stay far enough so that He didn't have to touch me.
A few weeks later I went on outreach with a coworker, which means that we walk around the city near our campus to see if we run into any of the regular youth, and sort of say hi and check in with them. He took me to a church in the downtown core, I forget the intersection.. but it had been abandoned/converted into a place for homeless people to hang out. If you can imagine Toronto summers, take that thought and cram it into one building, along with people who haven't showered or changed their clothes in God knows how long. It was an uncomfortable sight, but in a way, it was really beautiful. The church was being used for the purpose that I believe Jesus intended for it. The outcasts of society could have some place to be without being harassed or judged. They could sit and play cards, or chat, or sleep, and just be. Never mind what they were wearing, or whether they'd bathed or shaved, or if they were rested; people were welcome to come as they are.
So back to the Notre Dame Basilica... admiring it and taking pictures was a very academic exercise for me. Ambulatory, nave, rose window. Check. The place was filled with other like-minded tourists, all trying to capture the beauty of the architecture and embellishments, and save it for later. For me, the beautiful Gothic churches would always only be pretty buildings in a photograph or on a postcard - landmarks, museums, artwork. I would head down to the stuffy, noisy places with cranky homeless people in them if I wanted to see God.

Back to the grind.

This past weekend I went on the CAOS-organized trip to Montreal. We left Waterloo at 5pm on Friday, and arrived back today just past 8pm. It was an incredibly short trip, but just what the doctor prescribed following an agonizing month of midterms.
We arrived in Montreal at 1 am on Saturday. The bus ride went surprisingly quickly; we stopped only for a half hour in Kingston to get food, and the rest of the time was spent watching movies, listing to music, sleeping, or playing Tetris. Since it was so late, my roommates and I decided to just sleep and start the day off properly.
We woke up in the morning around 8, and after we all got ready, had breakfast at a cafe near the hotel. A bus took all of us to Old Montreal at 11 am. There we went into the Notre Dame Basilica en masse and took pictures in the area. We had absolutely gorgeous weather - it was crisp but not freezing. From there, we wandered back up to St. Catherine's and made our way across all the stores and shopping galleries. My goal for the trip was to go to Simon's, which everyone always talks about. We did indeed make it there, and it took up a couple hours just going through all the stacks of clothes and getting through lineups to the fitting room and cash register! But I walked away with three new tops and a bigger credit card bill.
For dinner, I met up with a buddy from high school. Last time I saw him was probably in first year, so it was cool to see each other and catch up. Afterwards I went back to the hotel to get ready to go out. That also included my first experience using a hair straightener! (Note to self: hair straightener work best when they are plugged in.) Buses came at 8:30 to take us to the first bar, St Sulpice. I was informed that the terrace is awesome, but since it's almost winter, we obviously did not go out onto it. At St Sulpice we had a Waterloo vs Montreal Optometry competition. Waterloo lost the trivia portion of the night, but dominated Montreal squarely in the boatracing event (which I think is especially embarrassing given that they are living in Montreal).
At 10:30 we were shuttled to a different venue, a club called The House. It was a shady kind of place with bad music and rude people, so we stayed only till about 1, and then cabbed it back to the hotel.
This morning we woke up at 9ish and took our time getting ready, packing up, and watching TLC. We went out for brunch and made it back to the hotel just in time to get onto the buses headed back home.
But now unfortunately it's time to get my head back in the game and ready for a new week of classes.

When midterms are over.

As of 10:30 am Wednesday, I was officially done midterms!! I promptly celebrated by.... going to Geometric Optics. Yea, unfortunately, we still had a full day of class. I got home at 4pm though and proceeded to do nothing for 2 hours. Well, I caught up on last week's episode of Scrubs and downloaded some notes. And then I made and ate dinner and went to small group.
After small group, I went to the Bomber where most of my class had already started their post-midterm festivities. The evening was alright; the music started getting lame towards 11pm. My friends and I didn't stay late, but we stayed long enough to witness the funniest guy dancing all crazy and techno.
Thursday I skipped my first optom class! I decided to sleep in. It was wonderful. I made it in time for my other two classes though, which were agonizingly boring, but I had lunch with Jasy and Bee to look forward to. We went to Seoul Soul - another first for me! The food was okay, but definitely not authentic.
I hung around school to watch Gossip Girl with Jasmine for a bit and then went off to Katie's around 3:30 for an afternoon of martinis and munchies. We had guacamole and chips, cinnamon loaf, crackers with brie and jam, double chocolate cookies, veggies and dip... and martinis! Katie taught me to mix and shake like a pro so I took over the bartending responsibilities when she became... incapacitated.
Several hours and drinks later Sam picked me up and we had more drinks and appetizers at Bomber. When I got home I talked to my mom on the phone for a bit, uploaded pictures, and got ready for bed.
The adventures are not over. This weekend we bring the party over to Montreal where we will eat, drink, shop, and be merry! Now.. to pack!

Long Road out of Eden.

Because I was so busy this past month, I didn't even have time to anticipate the release of the new Eagles' album. Today was the big day though! I thought I could just go to HMV to pick it up, but after some Google-ing, I found out it was being sold exclusively at... Wal-MART! I also found out that the closest Wal-Mart was all the way in Kitchener. I thought I would just have to wait till some other chance to get my hands on it.
Today I had a physical optics midterm, my seventh test since the month's start. I thought I'd get to work studying for Friday's medical microbio exam, but after getting home from the pool, I decided I had no desire to hit the books again. So I called Little Jon and made plans for an adventure to Wal-Mart later that night. We left around 7:30 and I picked up the 2-disc set for the great low price of $11.99. Then I went to Erin's for House night, and showed off my fabulous new purchases. Livvy came over too, and we ate cookies and chips while watching House ridicule people. I took the bus home, thrilled to listen to my new CD!
Once I got back, I imported the album into iTunes and synced up my iPod almost immediately. I packed up my knapsack for school and got ready for bed along to my new Eagles tunes, encouraged that this seemingly endless midterm season would indeed be over soon.

Just too busy being fabulous.

My Cup Runneth Over.

Years after the introduction and phasing out of Latte Tuesdays, and regardless of how increasingly popular Starbucks is due to its trans-fat-free pastries and free-trade coffee beans, Second Cup is still my favourite specialty coffee retailer.
It started back in high school, when lattes cost only $2 on Tuesdays, leading to a greatly anticipated weekly tradition amongst my friends. We'd go to Don Mills Plaza (now a pile of rubble, or less) after school to grab a drink to take on the bus, or head over to the beloved Javahole Second Cup on Steeles to have our caffeine fix while studying. The Javahole is named of course for Javathon, our favourite high school dropout and coffee barista, who unfortunately stopped working there after a near-death carjacking experience. The wobbly tables were for studying and storing into memory; the plushy couches were for chitchatting and making memories.
Those days are long gone now - lattes cost the same on any given day, and it's not really Javahole without Javathon there. I went back to that Second Cup when I was home for the Thanksgiving long weekend. It has been renovated, now with snazzy decor, sturdier tables, and even a mock fireplace - a new look fitting for a new era. I wasn't there with the girls from Don Mills; that time I had a date with anatomy, and a couple Capstones. It was raining that afternoon, and I sat there with my books and laptop and vanilla bean latte, watching the downpour through the picture window.
Today I went to Second Cup at University Plaza with Kat and Jasy. The last time I remember having coffee with them there was two years ago, on a wintry December night with a bunch of girls in our year. It was not quite as cold today as it had been then. We gabbed and gushed over caramel corettos. Incidentally it was raining. I find something very fulfilling about having warm coffee and good company on a rainy day. I was going to do some studying there, but the Internet wasn't working (Internet is free at select Second Cup locations, as opposed to having to pay for it at Starbucks!); I took it as a disguised blessing and a chance to spend more time catching up with old friends.
So while everyone else is buying into the Starbucks hype, you can always find me with my Second Cup in hand.

Foveal Farm Fest.

Keeping in mind that Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week, I enjoy Friday nights just knowing that Saturday mornings are just on the other side of a good sleep. However, this weekend I have to study perception, so my Saturday will be a wee bit less relaxing. But I made up for that today, with a light afternoon and the Foveal Farm Fest. Tonight, my class (well I guess about half the class) took a break from our books and held our first social event on Jen's farm.
Classes were over early today, around 11:45. Those who didn't have lab were able to leave, but I had to stick around for lab at 1:30. It was a relatively quick and painless lab, so we finished early, so I got home by about 3:45, at which point I fell into bed and passed out until 4:30. After that, I ate something quick and got ready to be back at the school for 6:30. We all met and split up into cars, and took off for the farm!
Jen lives on an old farmhouse in Kitchener, c. 1850 or something like that. She has a cat and a dog, and her mom prepared hot dogs, snacks, hot chocolate, and 16 homemade pies for us. Her brother took us on hayrides around the property, through the cornfields. We sat around chatting and eating; some people started a foosball competition; eventually we made our way around the campfire to bask in its glow, roast marshmallows, and sing songs, accompanied by two guitars and a djembe.
The festivities ended quite early; most people left before or around 10 pm. It was a very fulfilling night though, I left very satisfied and content with the company and food I'd had. It was nice to sit and spend time with my... colleagues, I guess, outside of a classroom, find out more about their personalities, and know more about them than just their names. It's incredible to look at the calendar and realize we've only been a class together for 6 weeks - it feels like so much more! But when I stop to think about it, even though I see these people every day, I really don't know much about most people at all. I can't wait to see how we will be by the end of the year. After today's Corneal Cup presentation, I can barely even wait until the new term, so I guess there's a bunch of things to look forward to in steps.
Anyway, I didn't mean to get emo or anything like that (in this post anyway), I just wanted to share about the cool farm experience. Laura and I even got to nick some leftover pie and take it home, so there'll be dessert for the next few days! :)

Tip of the day: Add an eye anatomy term at the beginning of anything and turn it into an optometry event.

Saturday lurve.

Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week. When I was a kid, it meant watching Saturday morning cartoons with my sister. It meant fishy-shaped pancakes that my dad made with love, or oatmeal that he made with love and didn't know that we would refuse to eat.
As time passed and my sister and I entered adolescence, my family started going out to have breakfast with my grandparents at Chinese cafes. Our parents had to pry us out of bed so we could make the breakfast cutoff time at 10.
Since I started University and live on my own, breakfast with my grandparents happens a lot less. When I'm in Toronto, we still have breakfast or lunch together, and follow it up with some shopping or studying. In Waterloo, Saturday mornings are a time of sleeping in and recuperating from a long week and perhaps a late Friday night. It's a time to plan my day and plan my weekend.
Today is no exception. A full nine hours of coma-like sleep. Apple cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. (I eat oatmeal now; if my dad knew, he would surely make a snide comment about how I used to refuse to eat it.) A cup of hot orange pekoe. Hot shower, plushy bathrobe. iTunes. Check.
Hmm...Should I go play football today? I have to meet Emzhei and Olivia at the library later.. what subject should I study? What should I have for lunch? Should I go watch the hockey game with Grad cell tonight? What dessert should/can I bring? How much should I really be studying for anatomy?
I am left now with more questions than answers still, but now I have to start acting if I am really going to be at school by 1:30.
Have a good Saturday. :)

Angel Party.

I remember starting at a very young age to pray for my paternal grandparents. My grandfather followed a Chinese religion that I didn't (and still don't) really understand, but it sounded sort of ancient and pluralistic from the way my dad described it. My grandmother, as far as I know, did not follow any religion. But at the end of every prayer, when I remembered, I would automatically tag on, "And please let Grandma and Grandpa become Christians". It was definitely force of habit that kept me doing that; what does it mean, "let" them become Christians? As if it was God that was keeping them from believing in the first place? I guess what I had meant was... please give Dad opportunity to talk to them about You. Or, please move in their hearts to let them realize that You are real, and present, and want a relationship with them. But who knows, I was only a child.
As the years wore on, it became a back-burner issue. I was not able to directly talk to my grandparents, partly because of the language barrier, but also because of the culture. It's not appropriate to talk to older people about dying, and definitely not my place as a granddaughter. I tried to be a good and loving granddaughter though, and be respectful, and eat dinner with them and go to functions all the time though, just so they would know I loved them. I would show them I cared, and pray for them.
I forget the year my grandma had bypass surgery, but I remember that post-op she said that she tried praying and that she could feel God's presence. It already made me excited to hear that, but I thought that perhaps it was just something she used to comfort herself in her vulnerable position.
My mom told me a few weeks ago though, that my grandma agreed to have an evangelism meeting on October 11 with the senior pastor and a family friend, also from our church. I started to become optimistic that she would become a Christian. Last night at life group, we prayed for her.
My mom called me at 9:50 tonight and told me that my grandma accepted Jesus as her Saviour!!
My response was a mixture of ecstasy and skepticism. I was so overjoyed that she finally crossed that threshold and made the decision to follow Jesus, whereas before she was only open to hearing about Him. At the same time, I wondered if she truly knew what it meant to follow Jesus. My mom assured me that they asked her several times, and asked her to say in her own words how she knew she was going to heaven. So I have decided to join with the angels and celebrate - I emailed my small group with the great news, and proceeded to write this blog even though I had wanted to sleep early tonight.
It's such a joy to receive answer to prayer in such a big way. I love my grandma and am so glad I'll see her in heaven. I really hope that through this, there will be opportunity to witness to my grandpa as well. He will definitely be extremely resistant, but nothing is too daunting for our God.
Her conversion is also a reminder that time is limited, and sharing the gospel is something that can't just wait on the backburner all the time. It starts simply by making the choice to deliberately love people, and being transparent about the Source of your love. Then keep praying for opportunity, if not your own, then at least for someone else.

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let them say among the nations, "The Lord reigns!"

Impulse buy.

Here are the earrings I acquired yesterday at Ardene's with Amy before life group. I got these in a 3-for-$10 deal - 16 pairs in total! I usually don't buy jewelry from Ardene's; hopefully I won't end up allergic to the metal. I've been wearing two of the pairs (the ones missing from the pictures) for a few hours and so far they seem okay.
I don't think these count as "quality" earrings, so I don't feel like I can cross #60 off my list. Oh well.

Oh yeah, the Liberals won yesterday's provincial election. It is the first time in 70 years they have won two successive elections. The surprise this year was that the Green Party finished ahead of the NDP.

Giving Thanks.

things i am thankful for
- being in optometry school
- having a lifegroup
- passing the u.pass
- ridesafe
- chocolate chip pancakes
- sleeping in
- rain
- being indoors during rainstorms
- parents
- de-briefing
- wireless internet
- salvation
- chats with my mum
- tea
- public transit
- recycling
- democracy
- good friends
- good food
- good health
- boundaries and rights
- music
- dreams

Creepy Rogers Guy.

I should be studying for my Optics midterm, but I have to write a really quick post about the creepy Rogers tech that visited my apartment today.
So starting yesterday, the Internet service in my apartment went down. I called Rogers last night to set up an appointment for a technician to come in. It was decided that he would come today from 2-5 pm. I told my address to the lady on the phone and she asked if there was a buzzer in the apartment building. I told her there wasn't, so she said not to worry because they would call before they arrive.
Today I came home from class around 1 to make lunch. Paul also came to visit me around 1:30. He called me from downstairs and I went to open the door for him and showed him my apartment. We were hanging out in the kitchen and I was cooking when a knock came at the door. The Rogers guy!
"Did you have a service order in here?" he asked when I opened the door.
"Yes," I replied, ecstatic that he was showing up so early. Then I stopped to think. "How did you get in?"
"Rogers has keys to any building it needs," he replied as he entered. I didn't really think much about it until Paul mentioned that it was sketchy, and how then a tech guy could just take keys to enter a building, and then use the premise of being a Rogers guy as an excuse to enter people's apartments. And nobody would really think twice because... it's a Rogers service technician! Anyway I thought it was a very creepy idea, in light of some of the recent dorm attacks at York and such.
The tech said that there was a problem that might be solved by going into a panel in the boiler room, and asked if there was a superintendent or keyholder in the building. I said I didn't think so, so he said he'd go check... on something. I don't know, he just left.
Minutes later, he came back. I asked if he found the key, and he replied, "I used my master key," as he held up his screwdriver. As he crossed the living room, Paul and I exchanged wide-eyed stares.
The Internet is all fine now, but I certainly hope nothing goes wrong with it again. Having to wait around for Rogers technicians is definitely inconvenient, but is also starting to be a little creepy.

My vacuum cleaner's gone.

This past Sunday at church, we started a series called Twisted. The topic was about Twisted Truth, and how the world will lie to us about who we are. The reason I bring this up is that I recently encountered a situation in my building that made me realize just how much I do hate it when people lie to me.
Basically what happened is that I moved some furniture into my new apartment on August 31, and then went back to Toronto for a week. When I came back to move in for good, I found that a vacuum cleaner I'd left in a hall closet was missing. I told the landlady and the former superintendent, and both claimed to not have seen it. However, as I did more nagging about the situation, the superintendent said she saw the landlady using it in one of the apartments; the landlady insisted that she superintendent must have taken it. They have their own little feud, so there's a lot of he-said-she-said stuff going on. But where we end up is that I have lost a vacuum cleaner.
I can't figure out in this situation whether I am more upset about the loss of my actual property, or that someone is clearly lying to me about what happened. Of course I am mad that I lost something that was in my apartment, but it is plausible that a miscommunication occurred in which my vacuum cleaner was assumed to be the property of previous tenants, and got thrown out. I would totally buy that story. In this situation, though, nobody will own up what happened. Personally, I am siding with the superintendents; they tried really hard to help me, and said they saw her using it, and even called her on my behalf. My landlady gets her story mixed up all the time though - first she said she never even knew anything about it, and then that she had seen it, but doesn't know what happened to it. Her latest update is that she had been looking for it all day yesterday and still couldn't find it, so she will pay me some money for it, and she is sorry and very upset about it.
I have a hard time believing anything she says. First of all, how can she have spent all day looking for it? Students who have class wouldn't even be home during the day.
So, now for the moral, because I suppose every trying situation ought to have one. This whole ordeal has been on my mind basically for the whole week. I've been calling the landlady, talking to the superintendents, wanting to knock on random units to ask about it... But I realized how easy it is to let these situations consume you. I found myself coming up with possible scenarios of how and when she may have moved my vacuum cleaner... or if she was or is just hiding it somewhere so she can keep it for herself...
I noticed that I was starting to drive myself crazy. What it boils down to is that... my vacuum cleaner is gone. I have to grieve it, accept it, and handle the consequences with my landlady (like receiving another vacuum to use and/or receiving payment for the lost one). But the vacuum cleaner is just an object, something replaceable by money. I have to remember that my landlady is a person, someone inherently valuable and created by the same Maker. It's hard to not be fixated on money when student lifestyle has trained me to pinch every penny, but people should always come before money. Loving them, treating them with dignity, empowering them.
Hopefully I can put this situation behind me soon and improve my relationship with the landlady.

Optical Prime

Today was the second day of Optometry orientation. We had to show up at 9:30 to take pictures and get lockers... which literally took about 10 minutes, and then we were all stuck with nothing to do until lunch at 12:30. A bunch of us went to Bomber for breakfast, where more socializing occurred. At lunch, we all got paired up with a Big Brother/Sister who is supposed to be our helper/guide for the year. Mine is a guy named Ernest, a nice sort of fellow who said he has lots to give me. Yay!
After lunch we did a short scavenger hunt. It was mostly for fun and time-killing; they didn't even collect the sheets after. Then we went off on our Essilor-sponsored evening. It started out with five-pin bowling (which I found out I suck at). We made it silly though with antics like bowling backwards or lying down and stuff. Afterwards we took a tour of the KW lab, and then had some dinner. It was decent too - a roll, salad, lasagna, and dessert!
We ended the night there unless people wanted to go to McMullin's for drinks (not on Essilor; maybe that's why nobody wanted to go). So I came back home to get notes and prepare for tomorrow, the first day of real class! I probably shouldn't be late, so off to bed I go!
Ohyeah, Optical Prime is the name of our class (probably). I love nerdy science jokes - optometry jokes are even better.

Einmal ist keinmal.

In one scene early on in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Tomas is trying to decide what to do about Tereza, the waitress he met three weeks earlier in a small town, and with whom he had inexplicably fallen in love. Part of him wants to invite her back to Prague for good to be with him, but another part of him is holding him back. He spends some time recalling how he felt when he watched her, ill, sleeping on his bed, and wondering whether what he had felt was truly love, or merely hysteria.

And he was distressed that in a situation where a real man would instantly have known how to act, he was vacillating and therefore depriving the most beautiful moments he had ever experienced (kneeling at her bed and thinking he would not survive her death) of their meaning.
He remained annoyed with himself until he realized that not knowing what he wanted was actually quite natural.
We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.
Was it better to be with Tereza or to remain alone?
There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.
Einmal ist keinmal, says Tomas to himself. What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.
- page 8

The expression "Einmal ist keinmal" means literally "Once is never". Its sister in the English language is "One swallow doesn't make a spring". I thought it was interesting because I had never taken that expression to have a meaning the way Kundera describes it. I take it to mean something along the lines of "Don't jump to conclusions".
An interesting expression...
Why does something not count if it happens only once? Doesn't it make that event all the more special?
However, I do identify with Tomas' over-analytical and indecisive nature. For me, life is like one big choose-your-own-adventure novel, and depending on what you choose, you might end up in an entirely different situation. (I suppose I may now find myself in a heady conversation with somebody about predestination versus free will. That is for another day.)
And though I do believe in the afterlife, I have never once considered this life to be a dress rehearsal for the one to follow. My thoughts on the afterlife are not as yet very well thought out, but I think it may suffice to say that I believe life after death to be more of a continuation of our life on earth, rather than a second go-through.
Anyway, I liked this passage because the way Kundera described Tomas' indecision and then his frustration with his own indecision reflects the way I sometimes feel. But I do not then conclude that a life lived only once is not worth living at all - no, quite the contrary. Because we have only one chance to live this life, we need to pick the grandest adventure of all, making the best of every situation, making the most of what we have. Sometimes things that happen just once are more than enough.

Lightness/weight.

I've started reading a book by Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, under Caroline's recommendation. She described it vaguely as a philosophy book, and told me that it was originally written in Czech, so the style of writing is really quite beautiful and different. She read me a few quotes from it that she had written in a notebook of hers, and I was intrigued so I decided to take her up on it.
Now just over 50 pages in, I can see why it was such a difficult novel to describe. There are two main characters in the book so far: a womanizer named Tomas and his wife Tereza. (Tomas also has a mistress named Sabina - one of many.) Not very much 'happens' in the book, but the author delves deeply into the significance of the things that do. The question that the author seeks to answer in this work is described as such:

"If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness. But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?
"The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
"Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.
"Parmenides posed this very question in the sixth century before Christ. He saw the world divided into pairs of opposites: light/darkness, fineness/coarseness, warmth/cold, being/nonbeing. One half of the opposite he called positive (light, fineness, warmth, being), the other negative. We might find this division into positive and negative poles childishly simple except for one difficulty: which one is positive, weight or lightness?
"Parmenides responded: lightness is positive, weight negative.
"Was he correct or not? That is the question. The only certainty is: the lightness/weight opposition is the most mysterious, most ambiguous of all."

So I hope that helps to set the tone for this novel. As people I think we're all somewhere in the middle of the scale between wanting to be carefree and weightless, but also wanting to make a difference in the world and have some pull in our respective situations. For us to assign a label such as positive or negative to either side seems a daunting task.
For the record, I believe weight to be the positive pole.

All about me.

I am... tired. But also really pumped from this weekend - my first time participating in CCSA playoffs since 2004. I'm sad we didn't win, but at peace with and very proud of how far we've come this season. I'm relieved that I didn't make a big mess of being governor, and was diligent in preparing devotions. I'm in shock that the season, the summer, is over. I'm still making moving arrangements. I'm nervous about starting a new program and living in a new place in September. I'm seeing the world through a different lens, only for a night.
I am... taking a trip tomorrow with some lovely ladies from work, just to say so long and farewell, before we go our separate ways for the school year. I'm so blessed to have met them and worked with them this summer.
I am... unpacking my softball gear from my duffel bag. I'm shaking out the dust and twigs. I'm going to fill it with my clothes and personal effects for the cottage. I'm waiting for pictures from our games to arrive in my inbox or on Facebook. I'm excited to share my battle stories with my girlfriends tomorrow, and sit by the lake reminiscing about this amazing summer.
I am... a Capstone.
I am going to bed.

Re: motives

Today Pastor Raymond made a point in his sermon that challenged what I said in my previous post about not really being able to do bad when you're doing good by having wrong motives. He said, basically, that motive is everything... which is like, the total opposite of what I had thought.
Anyway, on further reflection, I think he is right when it comes to doctriney-theology-stuff. I was flipping through Matthew and reached the part in Chaper 5 about adultery, where Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.' But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart." In that way, a man who even thinks about a woman lustfully, without even doing anything to express this, is already guilty of lust. So it's pretty clear that God looks at the heart, and the reason for what we do. The way that we approach Him in worship matters.
On a human relational level, I felt that motive matters less. Does it matter whether somebody helps me because they're trying to be kind, or because they think I'm an idiot? Is it important if somebody donated to charity out of good will or out of their own self-seeking aim for glory?
But using the... err... transitive.. property? (I certainly hope, but somehow doubt, that I'm applying this properly.) If our heart matters in the way we worship God... and... everything we do should be an act of worship... I guess motives matter in everything that we do.
So, to amend my statement, I will just leave it at that we are not in a place to judge other people's motives for doing things (such as the two hypothetical dilemmas I posed), but we should have our hearts in the right place when we ... do things.
...I am way too tired to write.

Good and evil.

"There absolutely can be evils acts. And there are evil or bad acts that can be committed by good people. We see that all the time. I see all these wrongful convictions, and I see all these people who have power, whether they are police or prosecutors, who really believe that they are good people, who have the authority and who begin to believe that if they decide somebody is guilty or has done something wrong, they are so righteous themselves and have done so much good in the world and avenged so much evil that their actions can't be questioned. And even more than that - that it's okay for them to bury exculpatory evidence, or to take shortcuts, to not follow fair process, to not even consider that they might be wrong because they are so good. Those people with that kind of self-righteousness very often commit acts of evil. And by evil I mean not just being wrong but doing things that are malicious. Gratuitously nasty.
"I look at evil acts, acts of malice, as opposed to a notion of evil as a force, as if there's something inside of people that inexorably leads them to take malicious, horrible, hurtful actions. There may very well be. I think that's an important distinction, because I see people all the time who, by an definition, describe themselves as good, and maybe in many other aspects of their lives you would not take issue with anything they do. They're good servants of the community, they're good to members of their family, they are, in many instances, very religious in the best of ways - kindness and charity and giving and good acts towards others - and almost because of their self-righteous belief that anything they do is good, they do evil."
-Barry Scheck, Attorney, in an interview with Cathleen Falsani, February 2005; from The God Factor

I won't lie: I think I'm a good person. I like to think I'm average or above-average in most categories, with the exception of height. I'm not really sure what I'm basing my judgments on, though, because I know for fact that I also do bad things. I don't know if I'd call them evil... but I guess that is, again, because I consider myself good - perhaps too good to be evil.
The words spoken by Scheck struck a chord within me as I was reading them today, emphasizing two things for me: that the distinction between a person and a person's actions is something we need to, but often forget to make; and that bad things - maybe even evil things - happen when people assume themselves to be good.
Through the psych courses I took at school, I learned all about the power of situation in determining people's actions and reactions, but also how people are the sum of their habits or actions or something. Even though I had a lot of theoretical knowledge about social psychology, it was still a struggle to learn to separate who people are from the things that they do. Personally I find it makes more sense only going one way: people who do bad things may not automatically be bad people, but how can people who do good things not be good people? I guess people can do good things for wrong motives, but I don't think it makes them bad, because they still did good. I actually wonder if there is such thing as a wrong motive for doing good.
That being said, I suppose it's how people arrive at the conclusion that they're good: because they do good things - for their family, their community, etc. But in order to arrive at said conclusion, people usually have to ignore all the bad stuff they did do. That's easily done by compartmentalizing our life, or placing less importance on the area what we're weak in. And especially if bad things are done in secret, nobody has to know, nobody gets hurt, and we can still see ourselves as good people.
When we start feeling too good about ourselves, our pride consumes us and we inevitably do bad, whether to ourselves or to others. When I thought I had everything under control and thought I was too smart to ask people for advice, I ended up doing and putting up with a lot of stuff I wish I hadn't. When we start taking emphasizing our own importance and worth over others', we damage relationships with coworkers, with friends and with family.
Nowadays people are expected to have a healthy dose of self-confidence. We learn to sell ourselves in job or school interviews, to impress friends or parents or [future] in-laws, and so on. It is so hard to reconcile that notion with the fact that Jesus, God incarnate, who died for the sins of the world, never assumed himself to be anything greater than a servant. In light of that... Who am I to assume myself to be anything great at all?
Lyrics from a song by Watermark pop into my head now: "Who am I, that You would love me so gently? Who am I, that You would recognize my name? Lord, who am I, that You would speak to me so softly? Conversation with the Love most high... Who am I?"
I wrote in the cover letter of my job application to Evergreen that one thing I wanted to learn more about through working there, was humility. Clearly that is a journey that will stretch for far longer than a summer.

East meets West.

"There is something about the egoism of this particular part of the world that has everything to do with the cross and how that all manifests itself out. I think there is a reason they're not obsessed with the cross that much on the Eastern side of the planet, because they have more of a group consciousness. And when you have a solo consciousness, like a lot of Westerners do, it is really about being on the cross. You're the one putting yourself up there. And I think the whole point is to try to figure out how to get off the f---ing cross."
- Billy Corgan

In my life I often feel like I'm standing at a crossroads where independent Western culture meets traditional, interdependent Chinese values. I just found it interesting that Billy Corgan mentioned the way culture influences spirituality, which I hadn't really stopped to think about before. Being raised in the West, in Canada, in Toronto - where multiculturalism is freely celebrated - I think my values encompass a decent and dynamic balance of capitalism and socialism. When it comes to my faith though, I think I really do have a 'solo consciousness'. I get fixated on blemishes and guilt in my past; I try to discern my own spiritual gifts so I can serve most effectively; I read books and do devotions to establish my own position on issues that I think matter. Somewhere along the way, the importance of church and community diminished. I do think that going to church and having a network of support are valuable, but again, mostly for my own benefit: I go to church to have my mind broadened with others' opinions and knowledge, and I seek fellowship for companionship and encouragement.
The story of Achan is one that has always stuck with me, perhaps because I wrestle with the idea of fairness, that everyone should suffer for the wrongdoing of one person. Back in Old Testament times, if one person messed up, the whole tribe or even the whole nation would face something terrible - loss in a war, natural disaster, famine, or the like. It emphasizes a sort of unity within a family or group that is almost unfathomable by today's standards.
Today's philosophy states "Live, and let live". We each do what we think is right, and leave each other alone for fear of seeming judgmental or hypocritical. This idea is brought out all too clearly in reading The God Factor - every interviewee has their own concept of spirituality, sometimes even choosing parts of different faiths and religions to create a sort of 'fusion faith'. Everybody claims there's no absolute anymore. It seems that people do realize their own corruption, and are just trying to cling to whatever bits of faith they can, to be at peace with themselves - or, to put it in Corgan's words, to figure out how to get off the cross.
If we were to switch to a 'group consciousness' mindset, what would that look like? My guess is, edifying and rebuking one another in love - and in doing so, realizing that there are some absolutes in life - and making the world a better place. There's been a tremendous shift towards the latter in recent years especially with lots of public icons taking on philanthropy as a hobby, which is fantastic, and which I've had the privilege of dabbling in. I guess I just need to be more conscious of being more of a giver than a taker, both spiritually and otherwise.

Everybody's got a story.

Now who can read the mind of the red-headed girl next door, or the taxi driver who just dropped you off, or the classmate that you ignore? Don't assume everything on the surface is what you see, 'cause that classmate just lost her mother, and that taxi-driver's got a Ph.D. I'm so tired of the fear that weighs us down with wrong assumptions of broken hearts and natural function. [You] See my eyes, [but] don't see what I see; [you could] touch my tongue, [but you] don't know what tastes good to me. It's the human condition that keeps us apart. Everybody's got a story that could break your heart.
- Amanda Marshall, Everybody's Got A Story

I love Amanda Marshall, most immediately for her soulful voice, but also for her esoteric lyrics and pouffy hair. Everybody's Got A Story is one of my favourite songs because when I think I've got everything and everybody figured out, it brings me back to the place of realizing how little we all as humans are able to comprehend about one another.
One thing I admire greatly about the youth I've met at Evergreen is their openness and honesty. They have nothing to hide, so they easily (and sometimes too gladly) share the intimate details and goings-on in their lives. They'll tell you exactly how they ended up in the shelter system, or what they think and feel about so-and-so, and so forth.
Amongst the rest of society, emotion just seems so muted in comparison. Less drama is probably a good thing, but there's also a diminution of passion. There's a lot of pussyfooting around, trying not to say something politically incorrect, or offend anybody. It becomes difficult for people to open themselves up to one another or say what they really think or feel.
When I finally have a breakthrough moment over taboo or complacency, I relish the feeling of learning something intimate and new about my friends, and the feeling of added strength to the foundation of relationships. It makes me marvel at what a loving God we have, who already knows all the intimate details of each of our lives, and and still tries hard to get us to open up to Him.

* * *

Over the weekend I started reading a book called The God Factor. It's a collection of interviews between the author, a religion journalist named Cathleen Falsani, and a celebrity or public figureheads on the topic of spirituality and how it affects their lives/work/art. In the media, many causes like to use celebrities as their poster-people and advocates, religion being no exception. So Falsani gets to the root of these people's beliefs, and gets beyond the labels of what faith they claim to follow. I've so far finished three chapters: interviews with Bono, who grew up in the Church of Ireland and is awed by the fact that the "force of love and logic behind the universe... would choose to describe itself as a baby born in sh*t and straw and poverty"; Hugh Hefner, who describes himself as "a pretty moral guy" and claims that the meaning of life and highest moral value is love; and Sandra Bernhard, a devout follower of Kabbalah who reportedly introduced Madonna to the mystical branch of Judaism.
So far, so good. It's interesting to find out more about people's perspectives on spirituality, especially for those who help to shape or define culture during their lives. It's not a book from which to learn values or theology, but it's a good prompt to get yourself thinking about what you do believe, and a way to gain insight into today's varied schools of thought. Especially if one has grown up in the Church, it is hard to understand how others who didn't, view spirituality and religion.

sooo sad :(

I had lunch and went shopping with Monica and Bobo today, since we all didn't have to work. We ended up in the huge Winners at Bay & Bloor, just poking around until they had to take off for a work barbecue. I was digging through the shoes, and I usually end up just trying on most shoes that I see, even if they don't look extremely appealing at first glance. One pair that I tried today was a faux animal print flat - white, with small black leopard-esque spots, and with a ribbon tied into a bow. The right shoe was significantly more scuffed up than the left, the spots looked more brown than black. I thought it looked a little funny, but seeing as they were only $14, I thought that I might take a chance on them because they were cute, and they might end up equally scuffed in the end anyway. Upon closer inspection though, the price turned out to be $74.00, not $14.00!! I hate when that happens.

how quickly tables turn.

It's incredible how quickly things can go from great to crappy. Everything will be going great one minute, and then something or somebody will just bring it all toppling down, the next. That happened three times today. What. A. Day.
First, summer team all went to Esther's house for breakfast this morning; we had fruit, bacon, and blueberry pancakes while sitting in a backyard teeming with overgrown Jumanji-esque vegetation. That afternoon when we went to work, L was back from vacation, but there's a new nurse who's really sweet and nice to help out. L did her pill counting routine in a little room by herself for most of the day, which was fine by me. It wasn't until about 4:20, when people are flooding in right before closing time, that she decided to appear in the waiting room and be entirely unhelpful. Instead of helping the youth be seen or get what they need so they can get out of here and we can close, she decided to lecture them about coming earlier because we're going to close. She also stopped me in the middle of what I was doing, to ask what I was doing. So after I spent about a minute explaining it to her, she just... raised her eyebrows, and made some random grunting noise of acknowledgment. That's real productive... I love work, but I just can't stand her.
After work I was able to calm myself down a bit because I was hanging out with Jo and Chris. We ate chicken, potato wedges and salad, and planned to go out and buy 300. On our way out the door, we also decided to go get some ice cream! When we got to Dominion's, we found that a lot of the ice cream was on sale, so we bought three tubs and headed back, excited to watch the movie and pig out. Not long after we scooped ice cream and popped the movie in, though, a strange beeping noise started in Jo's apartment. We ignored it for as long as we could, but we eventually decided that it was the fire alarm and we should evacuate. Joanna lives on the 40th floor. We got all the way down to the 14th floor, extremely dizzy, when the fire alarm stopped. So we decided to walk back up rather than wait for the elevators to start working again. Well.. when we got back up, all sweaty and exhausted, we found that the stairwell door was locked and we couldn't get back up to her floor! We had to sit on the 39th floor and wait until the elevator started up again. My legs were all jelly-ish... I couldn't wait for another bowl of ice-cream to replace the calories I'd just burned.
We ended up watching the movie, and I left around 10:30 to go back home. I had felt a little bad about not coming home for supper tonight because I came home late for the past couple of nights, and hadn't spent a lot of time with my family lately. When I got back, my sister told me that my parents had gone to the airport to pick up my grandma. So I went to check my email and what not... Soon afterwards, my parents came back, and then almost immediately my mom was telling my sister and myself to wash the dishes and hang up the laundry. I took a bunch of towels from the machine and hung them in the basement, and on my way back upstairs, I stopped to check my messages. Almost immediately, my sister starts yelling at me for not helping. I snapped something back about that I'd already done some of the laundry, and she started nitpicking about how much I'd done, or that I didn't help do the dishes... anyway, it was just so retarded because there will be other times where I do the dishes or whatever by myself. It's such a stupid thing to fight about, because there'll always be times that either one of us has to do more or less of the chores. All of a sudden I wasn't even glad to be home anymore.
Anyway, that was my rollercoaster of a day. Tomorrow I have the day off, so I hope it's less dramatic.

Time flies.

I can't believe it's already coming on August. This summer has just slid through my fingers. I feel like it's been full of valuable experiences and memorable lessons, and there aren't many feelings that are better than that of time well spent. Hopefully I'll be able to continue to spend my time meaningfully. Here's a list of things I want to accomplish, or habits to build up, by April 2010.

a little rant.

Today was not a bad day by any means. In fact, it should be considered a good day, because summer team got to check out the most amazing art drop-in ever, Sketch; Health Centre ended up having a doctor when we were expecting none; and Deb, Esther, Tanaya and I went to Salad King after work to hang out.
As I sit here though, there's a small rumbling in the pit of my being that is just simply unwell. Partly it may be due to that I went by Pinto Park after supper to watch the Miracles practice, but it turned out to be my sister's girls team practicing. I only knew a couple of the girls, as well as the guys that were helping to coach them, but I suppose I just get intimidated by really hardcore softball girls. I was a little disappointed and went home.
The main reason though, was that my coworker, whom I shall call L, was not being very friendly today. In general, she is not the most friendly of people anyway, and I'm aware of it and know how to act and react to her, but today just made me a little more cross than usual. Also because I've been working there almost two months now and I still feel so... patronized?
L is an older lady with three grown children and very conservative worldviews. She has the habit of micromanaging everything and being quite snarky. She also has a way of stating everything very matter-of-fact-ly, which I think is the thing I find the most annoying. For example, when I started working, my schedule was often very jumbled because of training or off-site events. L is not my supervisor; I report to the department head for all my absences. So one day when I came in after an absence, L asked where I had been. When I told her, she said something along the lines of, "Well, nobody told me." I had no response to that... but next time, I made a point to tell her that I was switching a holiday and would not be coming in the next day. I was deliberate to remind her before I left so she wouldn't forget, and then she said, "Yes, I know, you told me already." Just little things like that...
A couple days ago it was deserted in the health centre, so I went upstairs to drop-in to look for a snack or to say hi to my friends. I hung out at the food bar for a bit, chatting with some people and munching. One youth who I know from the health centre was joking around with us - when the staff on food bar came up to serve him, he saw me slacking and said, "No I want Clara to serve me!" (So I served him even though I don't work in drop-in.) Anyway, after that little bit of jocundity, a phone call came from downstairs, and I was told I had to go back down. When I got there, I saw L sitting in the optometry room, counting out her pills... She turned to me, her expression permanently frozen in an uninterested sort of gaze, and drawled, "Are you bored?" I never know what to reply to that (that was not the first time she'd asked me that question before), because I was not bored, actually - I quite enjoy just hanging around people and chatting with them. But I know what she means - she is asking if I want to help her. My strategic rebuttal is, "Do you need help?" Thus putting her in a likewise predicament.
So she got me to help her write out medication labels, which I didn't mind doing. I brought them out with me to the waiting area to chat with a youth while I worked.
L really likes to keep with her regulars. When youth come in who she knows well, she'll come out and have long chats with them. But with new people, she can just be plain... well, rude. I don't think it's meant to be rude, but just short. She told me not to give the health centre business cards to the youth because they'll just lose them (which makes no sense to me, because what use are business cards if they're not given out to the clients?), but she was quick to dole one out to one of her favourite regulars. Meanwhile, she doesn't even bother to remember the names of most of the youth who come in.
L is good at what she does (a dental assistant by trade), but I am constantly being tried when I work with her. Asking her a question requires tremendous humility. Restraining my tongue takes self-control. At the core of it though, I just do not feel dignified when I am around her. L's mannerism is quite demeaning, as if she doesn't trust me to do a good or even proper job. It frustrates me because we are working in an environment that is attempting to empower youth, and edify them. And more often than not, she is rolling her eyes at a youth's short temper (which I have sympathy for, after the street walk) or shaking her head at another youth who got pregnant. She likes to make comparison to her own children, whom she proudly proclaims as being celibate until marriage. I can't see how that attitude is making the youth feel respected.

**This post is not meant to defame L, but only to express my frustrations from working with her. She is admired by those youth to whom she is known and respected even from those she doesn't know. When the regular youth come in, they'll often engage in conversation with her immediately and ask for her advice or help. One youth even went back to school to become a dental hygienist because she was inspired by L.
In light of all this, I may only conclude that L is racist towards Chinese people.
Just kidding! ... I hope!

too much jumbled mess.

There's so much going on in my head these days that I feel like it'll explode. For one thing, I'm still homeless in Waterloo so that's always on the back of my mind and requiring attention and action. Things at work have also been more hectic this week, with more drama going on and longer de-briefing periods after work. Finding out more things that I wish weren't true, things I wish didn't happen in the world. A lot of emotion, a lot of surprises... good ones and bad ones. I don't know what to do with it all, where to put it. It almost made me want to attempt to be poetic, but I'm sure it'd just turn out really Vogon.
I used to hate the fact that as people, we're unable to change other people. I hate that there's so much injustice out there, and so much fear, and we can't do anything. We can't make people stop dealing, or pimping, or beating their kids. We can only watch from the sidelines and tell them to stop.
Slowly I think I'm starting to see the beauty in the fact that we can help people to change. We walk alongside them and help them to see options. We tell them that they don't need to deal or pimp or beat their kids. We show them there are choices and better ways.
It's simple, it's easy, and it's beautiful. It is a chocolate banana muffin, that brings a glimmer of excitement to a newly pregnant girl's eyes. It is a printed-out flyer about a George Brown site visit, that renews hope in a long-time user and re-ignites his ambition to finish high school. It is a mouthful of broken French, that warms a boy, recently moved from Montreal, with familiarity.
There's so much hurt out there still, and hearts still broken. And as much as we'd like to help everybody out there, we just can't. But "surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save" (Is. 59:1). All we can do is partner with Him in His work. But ultimately, it's all His.

Today was a good night to just be in at home and get some rest. Brenda went to softball practice and then out for supper with her team, and my parents drove my grandparents to the airport later in the evening, so I had time to just be alone. I'm trying to work on the solitude and silence thing, and not spend so much time in front of the computer or playing my DS. I've been pretty good about cutting back the TV; I only watch Canada's Next Top Model, which is going to be over after next week! Mom gave me her yoga mat from an exercise set that Bren and I got her for Christmas last year, and I've also been trying to work on stretches, but I've got to be more careful or I'm gonna hurt myself. Tomorrow there's a BBQ for the youth so I have to work late, and then I'm meeting Maggers and Monicar at Boston Pizza.

The Friday that felt like Saturday

Today I had a day off work! (It's a makeup holiday because I have to go in on Monday...) I was on a mission to go get my hair cut before meeting up with my sister for lunch, and then with Kat later on in the afternoon. The place Joanna recommended is called Marvel Beauty Schools - hairdressing students wash and cut hair for a low low price. So I left home around 10 to go to Yorkville. Upon arriving there, first I went into the wrong place - I went to the actual hair salon instead of the haircutting school. So they quickly sent me on my way. I put my name down and had to wait for only about five or ten minutes until my name was called. The girl who came to get me was an Asian girl with really long hair, with part of it messily piled up on her head. She introduced herself as Jen, and I smiled as confidently as I could. I told her I just wanted it trimmed and thinned out. Then she said she had to get the teacher to come over and ... set guides for her or something? I was so confused, and really nervous. We made some small talk.. but the teacher came over and explained what to do. Afterwards, Jen washed my hair. I wish she had tied up her hair 'cause some strands of it touched my face when she was leaning over me! Blech! And, she didn't really wash the back of my head (the part that rests on the sink) but I didn't say anything; I didn't want her to spray water down my back by accident.
Then when we got back to the chair, she started evening out the ends. Oh my goodness she was so incredibly slow. Just kinda chilling there... cutting some hair.. chewing her gum. So . s. l..o...w.ly. After she finally finished evening out all the ends, she said, "Does it feel lighter?"
And I'm thinking, No, because you didnt even do anything! So I said... "No,.... not really."
So she had to get her teacher to come over again to tell her how to thin hair with the jagged scissors. And she had absolutely no idea what she was doing... she'd never thinned hair, or had it thinned. Basically I was at the mercy of a Viet-Chinese girl wielding a pair of scissors. The whole ordeal ended up taking about two hours, after the painstaking cutting and then a meticulous blow-dry with a round brush. She said, "Sorry it took so long." What else could I say but, "It's okay"?
I got out of there around 1 o'clock and hurried to meet my sister. I only found out when I met her, that the girl had actually cut my hair all uneven. I tied it up and pouted about it until we found a place to sit down and eat, where I continued to complain more. It's a good thing the haircut only cost $10... And it came with a wash too. I'm just so frightened for when that girl graduates and goes out into the real world to cut real hair for real dollars. It's a ten-month program, she said; she started in January, so after only 6 months, they're out there handling real clients. I don't mind terribly that my hair turned out crappy; I am just so scared for those girls when they graduate... And next time I'll stick to someone tried and true.

So I had lunch with my sister at some noodle place near Yonge & Bloor. We walked around for a bit and then met up with Kat to do some shopping. There was a huge sale at H&M, so we spent a good half hour or more there. We met up with Joanna and Carson for a little bit too, before Kat and Jo were off to the airport to fly to Ottawa for the weekend. Brenda and I had Popeye's for dinner. It was a gorgeous night out; we saw a chess game taking place outside Eaton Centre, and the Chalkmaster hard at work. There was some global music concert going on too. We had frozen yogurt on the subway back while talking about TTC expansions.
Anyway, I was surprised to remember it was only Friday. All along I thought it was Saturday. Tomorrow is our softball season opener. I'm having breakfast with Liv too! Hooray for long weekends. :)