Agoraphobia

The fear of open places. In case you are wondering, I'm extremely bad at coming up with titles. Agoraphobia was the first thing that popped into my head. So I wrote it down and now have to eloquently tie it into a narrative relating to my life. I think this is a worthy challenge to occupy my mind during a study break.

To me, agoraphobia seems like an absurd fear to have. Why should anyone fear limitless space? Why should they be afraid of open possibility? Most people embrace freedom. Why then do these individuals fear it.

I'm going to speculate that they are the smart ones. They are comfortable in their cages; spacious and comfortable but without the annoying draftiness that comes with infinite space. Perhaps I'm wrong to call them cages. Ask anyone that has lived in the same house for 18 years (me) and they will tell you that the cage is home. There are no iron bars on the windows, no locks at the doors, in fact there are familiar nooks and crannies of limitless memory.

When I say limitless memory I refer to all of those memorable instances that span the lifetime in the 'cage'. Maybe calling it limitless memory is wrong. Maybe it should be limitless time.

Those individuals who spend their lives in these 'cages', these 'homes', may be agoraphobics but they are not - as I would say for most people - afraid of time. They live their lives in the same place, rampant with the memories of past events, threatening their comfortable existence. While the rest of us flit from place to place making new memories and then leaving them behind. Are we terrified that the past will catch up to us?

And so what does that make me? I lived in the same house for 18 years and have just moved to a new city. Am I running from my past? Perhaps I'm the tentative Ground Hog testing the winter air with its tongue to see if it is safe to go outside. I like to think that I'm neither agoraphobic or chronophobic (people who fear time). I like to think I'm not old enough to be either. I haven't been beaten down by the world in my freedom. Nor have I been terrorized by my past.

So what does that make me? What does that make you? Are you running? Or are you running free?

Exams...

Today was a strange day. I think I could feel the weather when deciding to get out of bed or not. I could feel that it was cloudy and grey. So I slept in to 1pm. And I have felt, consequently, entirely guilty about today.

After sleeping in to the lovely noon-time hour I preceded to skirt my required studying for the day. Taylor's Polynomials were just too far above me. So I went on to limits, scribbled out a few things to remember and promptly closed my math textbook. 'I know it already,' I told myself.

Then I failed at watching movies. I couldn't even commit to a full length cinema experience. I couldn't even commit to an episode of Heroes (with Monday just around the corner *gasp*).

I don't really know how it can possibly be almost 7 o'clock. It probably has something to do with sleeping through most of the day. But I don't feel like I've accomplished anything short of replacing my physics textbook on the shelf and moving the math textbook into prime studying position.

I just feel like I have so much time right now. So much time and nothing to fill it. My 'serious' exams - math and chemistry - are about ten days off. Plenty of time. Right?

Wrong. Dead wrong. Hours of boring lectures. Rain-filled walks to class. Frantic note-taking. Late night assignments. These are all resting on my exam mark. All of them will be worthless if I should slip and bomb my finals.

Of course, it would still have been a learning experience. But a freaking expensive one.

I think its the Christmas carols. The Starbucks seasonal drinks. They are ten days too early. And my resolve is a little short.

The good news is I'm very rested.

Consumerism Ad Nauseum

I have to chuckle to myself as I sit typing, steaming cup of Peppermint Latte in my hand, Christmas carols (as sung by your favorite pop stars) ringing through my head, that I've taken the consumerism of the holiday season too far.

Needless to say, Christmas is my favorite season. A fact drilled into me by my father, the king of Christmas. I've started to decorate my room - to the chagrin of my roommate - with snowflakes made from wrapping paper. I would purchase a tree and lights but I don't really have the time. But as you can tell, I take the business of Christmas very seriously (mind the pun).

I can remember one year that my family tried to do Christmas on the cheap. We didn't buy any new decorations, we minimized the exorbitant number of egg nog cartons and mandarin oranges, we even agreed to a "one-present-per-person" clause (oh the puns). But, regardless of these initiatives, we still spent a lot.

I don't know why, but the Christmas season seems to inspire a spending spree in me. I feel the need to buy candy canes. I have the desire to shop for others. I've barely been able to resist buying egg nog. And I don't need any of these things.

For one, egg nog and candy canes will make me fat. And oh, Santa Baby just came on the radio station I'm listening to. It just elicited the biggest smile I've had in weeks. It's the version by Madonna. You should all know the one I'm talking about.

Back to my talk. I can't put a finger on why I consume - why I feel the need to consume - so much during the holiday season. I could blame it on genetics. It's in my blood and I can't help it. Or I could blame it on my upbringing. I've never had a dull Christmas (well one but that makes me want to make every subsequent Christmas even better).

It makes me sick though. I spend so much money on seasonal items. I love spending money on things I use for a month and then chuck.

That's not to say that my family just spends money during the holidays. We try to give back. We've volunteered at the Mustard Seed (a shelter in Calgary) and we try to every year. Hopefully we'll find a balance.

But I doubt it. Honestly, I like it. I feel so taken by the season. So invigorated. Now all I need is some snow....

Better Than Church

I went to the gym today. For those of you who don't know, I'm on exam break. I have no reason to get up in the mornings. Well, except to study. Anyways, I set my alarm and woke up this morning at 9 o'clock - a very reasonable hour. And I went to the gym. I'm not sure if I mentioned that yet. I went to the gym. I'm very proud of myself.

So, back to me going to the gym. The morning air was cold. The sun was still tucked snugly behind the horizon. The grass was delicately frosted like a powder doughnut (yum). I snuck from my room, flickering in and out of shadows as I made my way through the cold to the commons block. A pristine, deserted foyer awaited me as I turned to head into the small and empty weight room.

Actually, none of that happened. It was 9 after all. I wasn't the first person into the gym and, although the sun wasn't shining, the day was fairly nice for December. That little imagery just sounded far more exciting.

Anyways, I've come to the understanding that, especially in Vancouver, the gym is a more religious place than any church. Firstly, you dress up to go there. Not often in your nicest clothes but you still dress up. Second, you take off your outdoor shoes before going in. And thirdly, most importantly, you go there to seek forgiveness for your sins.

People go to the gym for a number of reasons but I think the best reason is the one I discovered last night. I was sitting in my room ogling the care package my mum sent me and scarfing down a piece of fudge. How could I receive penance for my sin of gluttony? That was about the moment I set my alarm.

Others go to the gym to think. To embrace their "spirituality". They try to "ascend" to a higher level of consciousness through mind numbing repetitions of the same activities, often with "sacred" music playing through their ears.

This act is so ritualized it often takes place daily, at the same time and with the same people. Everyone kneeling on mats "stretching", splaying themselves before the Almighty.

And after you leave the gym you are cleansed. You are free to sin again - as often as you want - until your next visit. Now all they need are preachers.....well, more dignified ones than the aerobics instructors.

November The Last

As much as it pains me to say it, this is another goodbye.

Goodbye to the scruff. The patchy red beard that has consumed my chin over the past month is one day short of extinction.

The next time you see me, well for the most part, I will be clean shaven and surprisingly cute again. Clean shaven for sure.

So here are the final pictures.

Rats Laugh When You Tickle Them

I sat down in chemistry class today and was asked the most peculiar question: "Did you know rats laugh when you tickle them?"

Why, no I didn't. Please explain what in god's name you are talking about.

I went on YouTube about five minutes a go and witnessed for myself, through the magic of the Internet, that rats do indeed laugh when you tickle them. A researcher of sorts had a rat in a glass box and repeatedly flipped the rat over and danced his fingers on the rats stomach. At first, the rat merely writhed in apparent agony. I frantically searched for the volume button on my computer trying to hear the shrieks I was sure it would be emitting. Then the researcher explained that the sound was at a frequency much higher than the human ear could hear. Slightly relieved, I continued watching as a device was attached to the box to lower the frequency of the rat's "noises". The video continued for a few seconds and, to my amazement, the rat began laughing when the researcher "tickled" its stomach. And it wasn't even a boring laugh. It was one of those contagious laughs. Before I knew it I was giggling along with the little rat who was scurrying after the researchers fingers for more.

I find it hard to understand why life is so serious when, through evolution, even a rat can laugh. At our most basic level we are just rats. So why don't we laugh?

On a daily basis I see students hustling from class to class with frowns on their faces. Words mumbled under their breath. Eyes glazed over in resplendent anger or perpetual frustration. We don't have giant hands chasing us around tickling our tummies all day but as infinitely more complex creatures than rats we should be able to find more reasons to laugh.

I feel like I'm slipping into my previous tirade about smiling. But in essence, these two posts are one in the same. Laugh. It will make you feel better. I promise.

Go on YouTube. Watch a few rats laughing. If that doesn't get you going the hair on the researcher certainly will.

Sometimes I find myself in the need of a piece of paper. A pen, carefully extracted from my teeth where it was anxiously being chewed. Pen tip to paper, poised to write, I fall short. I have anxious jitters but I can't put them down. It's like my thoughts are allergic to the paper. I like to think that they are so otherworldly and ephemeral that they can't really be put on paper to begin with but that's just an excuse.

I really want to write about love. I don't know why. Well I do :) but I can't tell you because then I'd have to kill you.

I'd like to write about the obsession with looking good. The desire to cover any and all insecurities with a rockin' bod. The perpetual shame and punishment for that extra cookie eaten or half a piece of fudge wolfed down when no one was watching. The gym; visited infinitely more times for our sins than any church.

I'd like to write about memes. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about I'm in the same boat. As far as I know memes are thoughts, ideas, beliefs, and abstract ideas that are inherited like genes. Frankly, I don't understand them. But it would be so philosophical to discuss something that can't be seen under any microscope.

I'd like to write about all of these things. But I'm not going to.

I don't know what I want to write about but the words are coursing through my fingers. I've opened the floodgates and the rush of ideas has yet to subside. I don't really understand how I could be so possessed to write something so meaningless. To ramble on for a few paragraphs before signing off on a carefully articulated frame of my opening paragraph.

Bleh. I say. And I am truly sorry for those of you who read through this. I suppose I could have summarized my day as eloquently. I could have strung together a poem. Something a bit more pleasing. Something that feels good to read.

I could of course segue into a multiple of discussions from this point. But...you guessed it...I don't want to.

I could tell you what I really want. But then I'd have to kill you.

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

The summer after grade eleven taught me a lot of things. Firstly, it taught me about death. Secondly, it taught me about life. Thirdly, it taught me a shit-load about myself.

I went into the summer with everything planned out. I was going to work in a lab through a summer internship. That was basically my plan. And then things started going wrong. My best friend got the position in the lab. First wake-up call. It took all of my strength to be happy for her. I knew she deserved it just as bad, if not more so, and for the first time since I was a little kid I didn't get what I wanted.

And then my grandpa passed away. It wasn't even sudden. My mum, and the rest of his immediate family, were all present. Waiting. That was the first time I drank and didn't remember half of the night. I self-medicated the pain away. The night, and my life, became a messy blur.

And then school was finishing. I needed a job. The question, "what are you doing this summer?" plagued me from classroom to classroom, anxious teachers smiling, waiting for something marvelous. Frankly, I enjoyed watching the smiles slide from their faces when I replied, "landscaping."

Who would have thought that I could want to landscape? Why would I use my body instead of my mind? Certainly none of my teachers or friends could understand.

That summer was the best summer I have ever had. I learned everything about myself. I decided I didn't want to be a doctor, my life goal since the age of five. I decided I didn't want to do everything people wanted me to do. I decided to get my eyebrow pierced.

Now, this piercing was never for me. It was for everyone else. It was so people wouldn't judge me right away. So I wouldn't be typecast as, simply, the good kid.

But the piercing was never really for me. I wasn't a "bad" kid either. People seemed to typecast me in the opposite direction. I found that I couldn't avoid stereotypes.

I think I realize that now. My eyebrow ring has never really been a part of me. Its been an accessory. And so I guess its time to say goodbye. Maybe I'll go back to being judged as the good kid. Maybe not. But those stereotypes don't own me. They don't define who I am. They merely are and because I coexist with them doesn't mean I love them.

Strangely Absent

"Have you just been busy, or have you run out of things to say?"

Neither!

I've just been strangely absent. Its getting to the end of this semester and I am running out of work. I am running out of steam. I can count the number of assignments that I have to do on my hands. I can count the number of classes I have left to attend. The white (and red and green) light of winter break is showing through the hazy fog of school.

Perhaps this is somewhat of a paradoxical approach. When everything winds down I should be winding up for exams. I should find myself with copious amounts of free time with which to write and comment and articulate my observations of life. But, like I said, I'm tired.

An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion permeates all of my classes. I don't spring from my bed with quite as much vigor as I did at the start of term. I'm stuck in windless seas with neither too much to do to stay entirely focused or too little to completely disengage. Frankly, it sucks. I want to work. I like the anxious feeling of too much to do and the subsequent feeling of accomplishment when I get through it all.

I'm sure I'll get a second wind. Perfectly timed for the frantic studying that I will do in December. But until then I'm going to float aimlessly. Hopefully I can see a bit more of the world mindlessly paddling through the last few days of this term.

Blah

I know I'm supposed to be examining ephemeral ideas in this blog and not concrete facts of my life but I have a midterm. A math midterm => cramming => me being up this late => not getting much sleep.

The long list of arrows (=>) means implies. Its something we use in math. In the proofs ugh. Anyways. I could segue into how math has taken over my life but I'd much prefer to talk about how physics has taken over my life. So I will save that for another day.

Instead, I'll give another update. I will be signing up officially for Movember and will post a link to my page so you can all start donating. Secondly, I have a midterm so don't count on this happening for a while.

Lastly, a little something creative for your tender souls (its a first draft);

Black oozes, dripping globs
Of night.
Drip. Drop.
Pounding mallets upon temporal lobes,
Beating out rhythm
Beating out form, day in, day out.
One. Two. Drip. Drop.

In bed, dreading dawn
Sleep slips, ephemeral, through clawing
Fingernails, scrabbling at the mask
Waiting on the bedside table.
The smile you wake to,
Not your own.
Thump. Thud.

Heart pounding blood
Gushing, luscious.
Oh to be free of it.
Black in the moonlight
Oozing in the dark.
Drip. Drop.

UPDATE

I've realized that fundraising is harder than it looks. Whenever I'd done it before I always got a nice form from school and people were all too eager to give me cash. Now, I find that I have no alluring envelope or the charismatic small-child looks. But still people want to donate. So I will sacrifice my schooling for a few days to sort all of this out so you can part with your hard earned money.

First off, here is the latest picture(s):

I just want everyone to know that it is extremely itchy so you know I am suffering for a good cause!

Now to business. I realize that it is difficult to pledge support through this blog. So send me an email if you want to pledge your support. It won't be a binding contract. But until I set up a way for donations to be made properly these unbinding contracts will have to do. My email is smartaleck_chris08@hotmail.com

So send emails and wait patiently for me to figure this all out in my infinite (or not so infinite) wisdom.

When I Grow Up...

...please don't finish that sentence with, "I wanna be famous."

When I grow up (because I haven't grown up yet) I've decided I want to be a physicist. It's an admiral goal as the world can always use more physicists. Right? I think it can. But frankly there isn't much work to be done. Well not much work that I'd want to be doing, as demonstrated by my last physics lab of the year.

It's not like I don't like the physics lab. My prof is amazing and my TA equally so. The content and experiments aren't rehashes of high school monotony. But still, the life of a physics researcher doesn't interest me. That's why I want to teach....but that's another story.

The physics lab: Determine a model to describe the intensity of light as a function of the distance of the light source from the light meter.
Me: Tired and smelling of chlorine having gotten up at 7am to go to the pool.

Guess which one won?

I did!! HAH! In your face physics lab. And I didn't have a lab partner gently nudging me towards the right answers.

So then why don't I want to be a researching physicist? Because I'm the only one proud of my results. My TA might smile for me when he marks my lab book but other than that I'm the only who feels a sense of accomplishment at having done a good job. It's this feeling of isolation that keeps me from wanting to become a, what some might call, true physicist.

So I'll teach. My impact will be immediate and hopefully positive. We'll have to wait and see what happens when I grow up.

Hump Day

Yay for Wednesdays!!!!!

The only good thing I can think of for a Wednesday is housekeeping. So, first off, I've gotten a few questions about how to pledge support for No Shave November. The only advice I can give you right now is to either send me an email or leave a comment on one of the blog postings. I'll try to figure out a better system soon but in reality I'm technologically challenged so don't count on it.

With that taken care of I can express my sentiments about Wednesdays. They suck. There is nothing worse than being stuck in a Wednesday - the weekend is still out of sight and the horrors of Monday aren't quite behind you. While another day, take Thursday for example, will zip by in happy bliss, Wednesdays have the bad habit of plodding through a muddy bog of boredom.

I think this is most clearly demonstrated by the fact that I'm writing at 2:30 pm. The day isn't going by fast enough so I'm trying to speed it along.

And that's all I can say about Wednesdays. They suck the creative will out of me. They aren't conducive to anything but an early bed time. The frantic pace of Tuesday is a welcome change. The jubilation of Friday, the disappointment of Monday. These would all come as a blessing. But no; we are stuck on the wrong side of the long Wednesday hump.

Too Easy

Writing at about 11 o'clock the evening of the presidential election should easily provide a simple framework for a blog. But that's just too easy. So instead, and as I seem to be doing more and more often, to more musings on life.

Today I broach the topic of smiling. :)

"When life gives you lemons, smile dammit, don't pucker your cheeks like a fool."

I don't think anyone ever said these heartwarming words to me but I eventually discovered them for myself. It's my one rule in life. Smile.

Everything gets better when you smile. That cute girl across the bar will come and talk to you. The teacher who marks impossibly hard will give you an A. The rainy day will seem less wet. It's all so simple.

Now, you probably think I'm a fanatical fan of The Secret. And I want you to know that I'm not. This isn't about wishful thinking becoming a reality. It's more of a, to put it lightly, radical cognitive shift in perception of reality.

If reading that mouthful of a sentence didn't make you smile you can stop reading now. For the rest of you please continue.

What the heck is a radical blah blah thingy? It's what happens when you smile. Life just gets better when you smile. And when life gets better, its easier to see the good in every situation. Hence the radical (large) cognitive (thought) shift (change) in (in) perception (what you see) of (of) reality (life).

I want you to try something. Tomorrow, the day after, next Thursday. I don't care when but devote one entire day to smiling. Perform your very own radical cognitive shift in perception of reality. When you wake up look outside at the weather. And smile. At breakfast when they are out of your favourite cereal, smile. When you sit down in class for the longest, and arguably most boring hour of your life, you guessed it. Smile!

I hope a few things happen when you have this day of smiling:
1. Your face hurts. It's a good workout to prevent the formation of jowls.
2. You have an amazing day. The sky looks bluer, the trees look greener and you achieve the shift in perception of reality I talked about.
3. Everyone around you has a good day. A smile is contagious you know.
4. You wake up with a smile the day after.

And if you still can't think of a reason to smile, simply look at the results of the presidential election. It provides a good framework but really, it's too easy.

Brain Fodder

When I was in high school I liked to talk. Not often, mind you, but when a topic struck at my heart strings the flood gates would irrevocably open. This would also occur when I had eaten too much sugar or consumed too much liquor. Nonetheless, the most memorable moments I still hold are from heated discussions on religion, tolerance, sexism, or any number of 'taboo' subjects.

I say they are 'taboo' it is because these topics are not usually associated with pleasant dinner conversation. Now, the more astute reader will pipe in, "What about politics? Huh? Those are just as taboo." And I say to him/her, politics are to a group of high school students as the Flames are to Calgarians - we all cheer for the same team, and any desertion from this norm will illicit a brawl. Simply put, we all believed the same thing and the little band of conservatives huddled in the corner, fearing the wrath of our free-spoken liberal majority were polite juxtapositions of their national counterparts.

Anyways, back on track, I have always enjoyed a good conversation. And what else comes to mind when you think of university? Discussion!

Already I've been privy to late night musings about the universe - not all of them sober - but all of them equally enlightening. It seems that when placed in a quiet study hall and tasked with an assignment thought left behind in high school the grown up thing to do is to talk about something completely above and beyond the little questions our *scoff* professors tasked us with.

And so comes the part of this personal essay that is truly personal. The late night discussion illustrating my point. First, the scene; after 1am, the study lounge. Its far too cold and the fluorescent lights create halos of foggy clouds around my vision. Secondly, the assignment; math, left until the last minute.

I'm sitting with two other students when the topic is broached. I don't remember how and like any good conversation it was probably too obscure to explain anyways. Regardless, the topic of a higher power came up. Now, I know what you are thinking and I assure you I was thinking the same thing, "been there. Done that." Period. I have my arguments, you have yours, we both say them, neither of us gives in, we go home. End of story.

This was not the case. This time, it was less about what and more about why. Why would there be a higher power? Why do biologist believe in one less than physicists? Why? Why? Why? We didn't go in circles. We didn't call each other 'poo-poo heads' for lack of an intelligent comment. We wondered together. Why?

We didn't get anything done either. We left the study hall, bleary eyed at three thirty in the morning. The assignment was barely cobbled together.

Today I had an interesting first class. Most of you are, right now, questioning my line of thought ("crazy physics student") but I assure you this is going somewhere. My first class is creative writing and we work shopped two pieces of non-fiction. The highlight of our class was the TA announcing that in a personal essay, "you are free to raise more questions than you answer."

That sentence made my day. Given an excuse, why should we ever answer anything? Talking in circles is much more fun. Forever arguing, holding discussions on the lush lawns of a university campus. What could be better than that?

So I leave you then with a question. Something to ponder on late nights, stuck with a paper due or a midterm the next morning.

Why?

No Shave November

Well, the biggest thing to do in November, seeing as midterms are finished, is to campaign for a worthy cause. In true university fashion I'm going to take a stand for something by not doing something else!

No shave November or Movember is an entire month devoted to not shaving. I previously had my fun with facial hair August but this has a certain ring that August was lacking. And because most weeks are spent not shaving regardless, Movember is devoted to promoting awareness for prostate cancer. Somehow I fail to see the connection but nonetheless I will participate anyways.

Now, this is not just a lazy venture on my part. Originally it was going to be. I was going to abstain from a razor and look like a slob because then I wouldn't have to wake up as early. But I like to consider myself a benevolent soul and therefore am going to be raising money throughout this entire month.

Watch my semi-weekly (whenever I have time to post new pictures) updates and my now daily blog.

So, spread the word, donate money, and watch me become nastier and nastier as the month progresses. I just got a hair cut so things shouldn't look to bad to begin with.

Here is my clean shaven face as of October 31!

I'm the one on the left. Happy Halloween!

P.S. Forward the link to this blog to as many people as possible. Start pledging money. Promote a worthy cause. Raise awareness for prostate cancer! I'll post more details concerning the actual collection of the donations as the month progresses but don't let that stop you from pledging your support today!