My Life on the Run

There I was, cruising down the Allen Road en route home from my Sunday morning washed up women's ice hockey game. Windows down, radio up, belting out Coldplay's hit single "Green Eyes," I didn't even notice the increasing pressure I was exerting on the gas pedal as I relived my glory years as female athlete at a research-focused Canadian University. My hair would have been dancing gracefully in the wind had I not been so sweaty.
And I came here with a loooooaddddd, and it feels so much- Oh no! What's this up ahead? A convoy of police cars?!
SLAM ON BREAKS AND TRY TO MAKE IT SEEM CASUAL, WINDOWS UP, RADIO DOWN, PLEASE BE TOO BUSY RUINING SOMEONE ELSE'S DAY TO NOTICE MY TRANSGRESSION x3.
Are they beckoning me over? They couldn't possibly be motioning at me, is it, no, wait... Shit. It's me.
Radio off.

**While I've got you at the pinnacle of suspense, I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you that against all odds I have fallen in love with my mother's puppy and am currently attempting to feed her. But she is for some reason terrified of her food bowl and barks wildly at it. She creeps up towards it as if about to pounce, but ultimately cannot overcome her fear of open-topped silver semi circles that read FOOD in the age-old font, Comic Sans Bold. She works herself into an absolute puppy frenzy and I have to actually scatter her little brown poo-pebbles of food (which she eats everyday for breakfast, lunch and dinner) across the floor before she can work up the courage to eat the meal that was literally given to her on a silver platter. My doubts of her ability to survive in the wild are further confirmed each time we pick up her shit in tacky red bags decorated with little pink hearts.**

An apologetic policeman approaches my car window and shows me the radar. "You're ruined," it said, in capital red letters. Ok, it didn't actually- but it might as well have. And I didn't have my driver's licence. And I wasn't wearing a bra. I stepped out of my (my dad's) car, arms folded awkwardly in front of my chest, and walked over to his. The power imbalance in our newfound relationship has quickly become explicitly clear. I made a really lame joke as we walked over, and he was nice enough to laugh, which I appreciated.
"How bad is this?" I asked the man in authoritative uniform, who I desperately hoped was in a good mood and/or was a big fan of women's athletics and the residual smell of hockey gloves before I get the chance to wash my hands 7 times with soap.
"Shhhhhh," he whispered, "don't say anything, but we can fix this."
WHO IS THIS MAN AND HOW DID HE BECOME SO OMNIPOTENT??!?!
... and while we're on the topic, how do I become omnipotent? or even just semi-potent?

In a flash, during which time he did absolutely nothing, he had NOT deducted 4 demerit points from my finite and, as of yet, untapped supply, NOR had he charged me 220 dollars. Do you know how many blogs I'd have to write to make 220 dollars? Instead, he gave me a ticket for not having my license (continually spell that word wrong) and told me that if I go to court my chances are 99% that they "drop the charges," and "my record stays clean."

Bewildered, I slung my satchel full of space for potential demerit points over my shoulder, and with one arm still awkwardly folded across my chest in an incredibly unnatural seeming manner, I made the walk of shame back to my vehicle.
I hope it's not a bad idea to publicize my experience dodging the harsh hand of lady (?) justice on the internet. Am I still allowed to be prosecuted for my heinous crime, or could this fall under the category of double jeopardy? What's double jeopardy? Let's just keep this between you and me, K?

As I drove home, careful to obey the bolded demands of the metal rectangles someone attached to poles one day, I wondered- have I learned my lesson?
Green eyes.....
Who was that man who giveth and taketh away, and what kind of mind games just went on out there to leave me ecstatic at a $110 ticket, pending my willingness to jump through the hoops of my local house of justice?
you're the one who, something something.....
Is it a waste of water to flush the toilet if it's just a pee, and why bother to go through the formalities of a pant suit in court if everyone knows they're just gonna say "lol, nvm!"
lalalalalala green eyes....
What am I going to do next year, and where would I like to raise a family? Should I write my LSATs?

Hello, I Am a Human. Please Handle With Care.

A man yelled at me yesterday for riding my bike on the sidewalk.
I recognize that legally he has a great point, and that the context left him little time to gather a thorough understanding of my situation before passing judgment, very loudly, in public. And that even if we had all the time in the world, my case would likely not hold up in court unless I could dig up some serious dirt on his past, thus rendering his credibility extremely questionable.
It's just that, sigh, I had decided earlier that day that I wanted to reduce my ecological footprint, at least to only using up a couple Earths orsomethinglikethat,idon'treallygetthemeasurements. But, twirls hair around finger, biking on the street makes me nervous. What's a gal to do?
And that's just it, we're all biking around on the sidewalks (metaphor) trying desperately to balance our goals and fears. Fears and goals. Fears of goals? Too much. And more often than not, we're not wearing helmets (metaphor.)
Not only that, we're simultaneously attempting to navigate the convoluted web of our own priorities (on our bicycles, on the sidewalk, no helmets usually). What we always assumed our priorities are, what we think they should be, what they actually seem to be judging by our behavior... and after cycling around in laughable circles for-- oh, so far, about my entire life-- it becomes painfully and hilariously clear that making an enumerated bullet point list of priorities isn't really a realistic exercise. Unless your reality is an entirely linear one, coloured largely by black and white, filled with spectrums and the ability to track progress along them, and of course, opposites- and you KNOW how I feel about opposites.
Note: if you actually do know how i feel about opposites, I really appreciate you reading my past blog entries. Thank you.
So, I guess what I'd like to say to Man Who Yelled At Me For Breaking The Law and Possibly Putting Him in Physical Danger, is the following: You have a great point. Legally I should not be on the sidewalk, but the thing is sir, I'm trying to reconcile my goals with my fears and I'm feeling a little vulnerable about it so could you please not yell at me in front of all of these people? Perhaps we could have a nice little chat at this teeming intersection in which we might discuss the ridiculous dualities we impose on the universe and the terrifying speed at which we're depleting our natural resources, and then I could walk my bike on home so as not to disturb you. If you start to feel really comfortable with me, maybe you'll choose to open up about your goals and fears as well, and I'll do my best to listen and make you feel supported and not alone. Have a nice day :).... or something along those lines, that was really just a rough draft.

Since then, I have been inspired to mass produce those "Hello, my name is:" labels, and hire someone (preferably overseas so I don't have to pay them as much) to cross out "my name is:" and replace it with "I am a human." Black Sharpie recommended, but not mandatory. Then, using a personable font and a warm and easy-to-relate-to colour, I'd like my offshore child workers to write "Please handle with care."
The finished project should read: "Hello, I am a human. Please handle with care," and be easily fastenable to baseball caps, winter coats, hoodies, ball gowns, etc.
I'm thinking with the current levels of general insecurity, especially amongst high school kids, I'll be able to sell those bad boys at five bucks a pop. Of course, I'll have to put the goal of reducing my ecological footprint on temporary hold, but just until I have enough cash to improve the biking lanes on the main streets of Toronto.

A Vendetta Against Opposites

First of all, in the interest of maintaining the honesty and integrity of this blog, I should tell you upfront that I'm wearing a blazer right now.
As a follow up to point #1, I should also tell you that wearing blazers (singular, I only own one) somehow convinces me, if only for the duration of their stay, that I am a professional young adult with all my affairs in order. In fact, it may be in large part due to said blazer that I have mustered the confidence required not only to use the word vendetta, but to launch one against the timeless practice of forcing phenomena to opposite ends of some socially constructed spectrum invented entirely by the human mind.

Let's jump right into it with some concrete examples, shall we?
A cat is the opposite of a dog- what the hell? What does that even mean? What type of criteria has been used to polarize these domesticated creatures? Does that include all members of the feline family, or just cats that have been named by humans? Is the type of dog a relevant feature? As new breeds continue to be produced by unlikely canine couples, will it be possible to engineer a "dog" that is not the opposite of a "cat"? WHERE DO BUNNY RABBITS, HAMSTERS AND IGUANAS COME INTO THIS? Do they get opposites too, or are they not popular enough as pets?

A boat is the opposite of a car- I have vivid memories of learning this in grade school. I believe I had to draw a line between a picture and the image of its counterpart. How fitting. Perhaps as a progression to that exercise, middle school students could continue to plot pictures along that spectrum, between boat and car. A plane! Well, it certainly transports people. It is similar to a boat in that its driver doesn't really have to be concerned about traffic in the same way as it would on the road, but it also tends towards a car in that it has wheels and does drive for a short while on the runway. Could it be possible that an airplane falls exactly between a car and a boat on the imaginary illusory spectrum of transportation? OF COURSE NOT, THAT QUESTION MAKES NO SENSE! So yes, I guess it could.

I am unusually passionate about this issue. Perhaps I've found my niche. Along with combating poor contact care, debunking the illusion of opposites is a cause I could really see myself sinking my metaphorical teeth into.
Inherent to such oppositional and dualistic thinking seems to be the packaging of phenomena into discrete boxes that can then be lined up in some sort of aesthetically pleasing row. I feel the linearity jabbing at my kidneys. I don't know if I sympathize more with those things that get forced to a pole by the stifling Opposite Wand of humanity, or those that are less familiar or useful to us, and thereby get neglected entirely. I would imagine that question means absolutely nothing, because why would a chocolate truffle care if it "has" an opposite or not, so I'll just let it disintegrate. The question, not the truffle- that I'll eat.
**Please keep in mind that I am wearing a blazer**
I have discussed this issue many times, dressed in a vast assortment of clothing and accessories. Once, the conversation concluded with the exciting option that perhaps something's opposite is its shadow!! (I think it was a scarf that day) But then, alas, what about when it's not sunny, or when you're not on Earth, or when you are the sun! ... something to keep in mind before you cast your lot with the scarf side, in case you should encounter any or all of those three situations.
Another perspective was that Pokemon is the opposite of Aloo Gobhi (a popular Indian dish of potatoes and cauliflower) - because why the hell not? (Jasmine pants)

The jury is still out on this one folks. Until any conclusive results come in, which is absolutely not possible (in part because of the power that an everchanging wardrobe exerts on decision making), let's spread awareness about this issue through stylish hoodies (I'm thinking as a tagline: "FREE PHENOMENA"), hunger strikes, and really long walks.

A Born-Again Only Child- The Conversion Process

Well. In a strange turn of events, I, have just become an only child. I should have seen it coming, all the signs were there. My mother's erratic tears, high pressure shopping excursions, definitely the whole puppy thing, and yet it has somehow still come as quite a shock to me that our home has been vacated by my younger siblings in favour of academia. I can't help but feel like some sort of ceremony should have been held, perhaps with musical accompaniment, or at the very least someone should have rang some sort of bell. Really there should be an on-call orchestra available for situations like these, so that I can be sure I'm not the only one swaying to an emotionally-riveting symphony of melodrama several times a day. 

Now, I should clarify that I have in fact been my parents' only roommate once before. But I was 2 years old and likely more concerned with hurriedly replacing my childhood sense of wonder with the conceptualizations of my community and the ability to divide the world into categories. OK I realize that was a cheap shot. But it's fun and easy to critique society without offering any practical alternatives so don't make me erase it, K?

That said, I'd love to share with you one of my Current Self's favorite paradoxes. I think it is so beautifully hilarious that so many spiritual movements advocate the unraveling of the conditioned mind as a means to attaining true bliss, even though we all presumably started off unconditioned (at least to a far greater degree) to begin with. So basically, we spend our whole lives trying to still our minds, let go of our egos, and dissolve the boundaries of conception we've constructed while simultaneously slapping on more and more layers of delusion to our unenlightened minds simply by virtue of having developed attachments to "our lives" throughout our lives. But- and here's the punch line- most of us, despite our best efforts, have also spent our whole lives moving away from that ideal, which we once embodied in so many ways as children, as our increasing age provides us with more opportunity to crave, to conceptualize, and to cling. Even funnier to me is that I think it's a brilliant endeavor!

Yes, I agree that it is overly simplistic to cast the child as a wholly spiritual ideal- but I do think the idea of directing the quest for happiness inwards, as a navigation through the layers of delusion and division we have acquired throughout our lives (and are likely acquiring even as we search) is an absolutely beautiful one, and inclines me towards thinking of the universe as a playful and ridiculous prankster. I love laughing along with it (and by "it" I mean my absurd personification of a phenomenon I completely do no understand and have not even researched enough to realize the depths to which I do not understand it) and wish I didn't forget to do so on such a frequent basis.

There is a quote attributed to the Buddha that reads, "When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky."

Now, let's be honest here- when things are going great, I'm feeling really "spiritually in tune," maybe I'm wearing something long and flowy, my hair curled nicely that morning, the sun is shining, I freaking LOVE this quote. Love it! Think it's just tops. BUT *smile collapses quickly into stern expression* if I'm menstruating, a little overtired, frustrated by absolutely anything, (let alone if something actually tragic has just taken place) and have passed my threshold for optimism, THEN THIS QUOTE IS ANNOYING AND THE LAUGHING BUDDHA JUST LOOKS OVERWEIGHT AND DRUNK. 

 Because when I get really emotionally bound up in something, my mind decides my fun friend the universe is now a jerk, my overly complex rhetoric flies out the window and I completely forget everything I thought I had figured out about what makes me happy. In fact, I find the suggestion that I should get some perspective, acknowledge the absurdity of the situation and laugh, to be quite obnoxious. I'm starting to find my self absorption exhausting. Cue the orchestra  (in case you didn't notice, I just realized in this blog that I could italicize things)

But you know when someone puts something so simply, yet it resonates so deeply- like it's struck the truth chord inside you? Like you knew it all along, but you didn't even realize you did, and now you're SO HAPPY AND COMFORTED to be reunited with it on a conscious level. In my biased verification of this theory, I file those instances as evidence and anxiously await the day that they outmuscle slight hunger pangs in determining my emotions.

WHATEVER I met cool backpackers in India with Sanskrit tattoos who meditated every morning AND agreed with me, so it must be legit **plays the final desperate card, loses credibility in attempt to gain it**

...So ya, I was once an only child 20 years ago, but I don't think I made it so complicated back then.