Help, Help I’m being repressed!

If you’re not sure from whence the quote that is the title of this post originates, please proceed directly to your local movie store and rent “Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail”. And now onto my thoughts.

I lay awake last night pondering life’s unfathomable questions. You know, the usual ones. Course, if they are unfathomable, why do I bother? I think that’s my job as a human, really. Mostly I was thinking in my English accent, too. I tend to do that. After a while I began to speak out these thoughts in my accent. Talking to myself is a favorite pass-time of mine. I find it relaxing, entertaining and constructive in terms of processing my life at that moment, all at the same time. It’s also helpful since the person I love hearing speak the most is me…which leads me to my next thought.

Last night I found myself querying my own intentions as to why I act the way I do or do the things I do. Am I an honest person? I don’t mean in terms of do I steal or lie or cheat…more so in who I am. To use a phase I’ve not probably, umm, ever: Am I true to myself? But shoot, we’re always changing, right? So am I really anything particular at all, other than a male in his mid-twenties?Hmm, deep stuff, eh? Yeah, I didn’t want to get down on myself, since we can all find elements of hypocrisy in our lives, I’m sure. So I considered more who I am personality wise, if one could be pinned down. Enter, the English accent.

When I first came to this country in the state of fragility that a two year old is in, I had a brilliant little English accent. It’s who I was. The problem is my parents tell me that once I left for school at the tender age of five, I lost it quite quickly. Developmentally, this makes sense. You change, adapt, grow. An outer environment will affect your inner person. But a little bit of me is angry about that. I conformed. I’m still confused at to whether I should be angry about conformity itself at all, but that’s for another post.

Here I was, a darling anglo-saxon stripling, blessed with a delightfully posh manner of annunciation, torn from his cultural climate and thrust into this new and strange land. Being surrounded by such a dissimilar dialect, I changed myself. I refashioned me, I modified self. I began thinking about all the other ways I conform. I know we all do it and I know it can’t be avoided. But, for once, I lay there in bed thinking: “I don’t want to conform. What if when I was a lad, that one, tiny, single act of conformity led to a lifestyle of caring about what others thought? How has that affected me? My development? Who am I?”

Now, much of this is tongue in cheek but it did get me thinking about how I view myself and how I think others view me. All at 12AM. I didn’t come to any definite conclusions or anything, other than: I’m going to be more like me. But even this statement confuses me….a little.

Conclude with this, I did however: I’m going to speak with my accent more. I shant be repressed any longer.

The Comedian and the Acrobat

If you are a Seinfeld enthusiast you may recall an episode in which Jerry dates a Romanian gymnast. As follows logically within the male mind, his hope is that during this relationship his, shall we say, carnally based expectations will be exceeded due to the presuppositions he has concerning gymnast’s physical capabilities.

The joke is that in Romania, according to the gymnast, there are great expectations of a similar fleshly nature placed on comedians. That comedians, in Romanian lore,  posses a corporeal prowess similar to the gymnast in western traditions. The gymnast, much to Jerry’s dismay, discovers that the rumors concerning comedian’s (at least in Jerry’s case) are not true, and is deeply disappointed: “You may tell jokes for a living Jerry Seinfeld, but you are no comedian.”

I’ve stumbled across a man, however, with great comedic ability and who also claims to posses incredible skill in the bedroom. Although I cannot of course recommend or endorse his work (some of which I hear is quite lewd and I tried to avoid) a number of YouTube videos did keep me up laughing yesterday. His name may or may not rhyme with Tussell Grand.

Loyal Suburban White Kids

I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not. I’m white, I live in the ‘burbs and I’m probably considered upper middle class. This means I shop at the Gap. I don’t hide it, it’s who I am. I’m not really ashamed. No more ashamed than I am of wearing Converse All Stars or driving a Mazda 3. My hair is short and I wear cologne, too. I’ve accepted it.

I stopped by the mall last night on the way home from a meeting and checked in at the one store I shop at there. Gap. They’ve had this promotion on the past few months where when you buy something, if it goes on sale later you get the difference added to a little card you carry around. I did a fare bit of shopping there around the holidays and so I’ve already collected a couple bucks.

I approached the counter with the jeans I wanted to purchase (not a crazy amount of money, but a good chunk of change for me) and was a little bit like “Hmm, should I buy theses?”. I went for it, and what do you know? Fortune favors the bold. I had something like $130 on this card thing! BAM. So i walked away with a free pair of jeans AND tons left over.

Moral of the story: If you’re a suburban white kid, be a loyal brand-loyal suburban white kid. It pays.

Running Partners

I know, I know, I’ve not written for over a month. Of course, I think only four people read this anyway…so no biggie, right? Anyway, I’ve gotten into running more since Christmas. Today something happened as I was on the last push of my 7km jog.

I was tired and it was early so my legs were heavy. As I came to the last half km, U2 popped up on my iPod. All of a sudden I was hit with a burst of energy when I began to imagine a truck in front of my pulling a small flat bed trailer with the band rocking out on it. It was kind of like they were there, just for me, singing and playing, encouraging me along. Now and then Bono would jump down and run along beside me, pushing me forward. All of this was in my brain, but it sort of made me smile and feel loved. Maybe it’s an only child thing.

So anyway, I ran a good time and I think envisioning the Fab Irish Four helped. Next time you’re running just picture the band or group you’re listening to as playing on a stage being pulled in front of you, coaxing you along. Not every act would work but here are a list of those that might (in my opinion):

-U2 (probably the best band for the job here…and they might actually do it if you donated some cash to a charity or something.

-Black Eyed Peas

-Sheryl Crowe

-Coldplay

-Chris Brown (just hit him first if he starts getting aggressive)

-Abba (I dunno, it just works for some reason)

-Queen

-Radiohead (if they’re in good mood…they might have bad attitudes)

-Beyonce and JT (I think they’d be pretty upbeat)

You know, this may make a good iPod commercial.

Chrrrrristmas Tiiiiimmmmme!

Say the title again, with an English accent and roll your tongue on the R. And make it high pitch, too. There, now you sound like a character from a Christmas movie set in the 1800’s. Lucky you.

Been a while, so why not update you on the Christmas goings on around my home and such: GO:

1. Read a Christmas Carol. Excellent read. Short, a classic and you’ll get much more out of it by reading it than watching a film version…though they’re wonderfully made, most of the time.

2. Decorated my first fake Christmas tree. I’m a hack, a hypocrite, I know. But, we still got a live one at my rents house, so I’m not feeling too Pharisaic. Still, next year it’s going to have to be real. Thanks all the same, DS!

3. Watched the Holiday, twice. What? I can’t enjoy a little Jude Law, Jack Black rom-com? Step off your high horse. It’s a great movie.

4. Watched Elf. “Bye Mr. Narwhal.”

5. Saw a church Christmas production. Solid work, Claw.

6. Sent a few lovey gifts to my lovely D, in lovely D-Land. Still hasn’t arrived but here’s hoping it does before Christmas. I swear, if they open it and steal stuff, I’m coming over there…

7. Bought a Poinsettia to support the Omegas. Killing it softly, with my worrrrrrrddddsss. (actually I just keep forgetting to water it).

8. Saw Light Up on the Island. Also saw Pam Anderson, the Christmas angel

9. Welcomed baby Adah into the world. Not even a day old and I got to hold her.

10. Drank nog, ate cookies and am trying not to slow down on the work outs over the Christmas break.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Floats

I saw Pam Anderson on a float this weekend in Ladysmith.

Little Violins.

I bought the new John Mayer album yesterday. Entire thing is about love, break ups and his lonely broken heart. Here’s a list of some of the top tunes:

Heartbreak Warfare, All We Ever do is say Goodbye, Half of My Heart, Perfectly Lonely, Do You Know Me and finally….Friends, Lovers or Nothing.

Of course the music is amazing…but, John, come on. Get creative here. Besides, I’m pretty darn sure you dated 95% of Hollywood’s starlets last year. Yeah, it’s gotta be real lonely at the top.

What will your next album be themed? “I Hate all this Money” with the opening track, “All I Do Is Spend and All I Get is Richer.” Or maybe a duets disk with some hot hollywood momma, entitled: “Being So Good Looking and Famous Sucks” with the single, “Everyone Thinks I’m Talented, Successful and Beautiful…WHY GOD, WHY!?”

What I want for Christmas

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1218472/The-700-teacup-sized-pigs-latest-celebrity-pet.html

Part of doing what I do involves sitting down with people and asking them really fun questions. All kinds of people. When you serve in a community of people brought together from many different places with many different backgrounds, you get many different answers to your many different questions. This makes for fantastic variety.

Today I hung out with Nathan. He’s a Uni grad with a double major in something mathy. I’d try and articulate what makes him so smart, but mathy things aren’t my forte…hence the very term “mathy”. Point is, he’s brilliant. He’s also an immigrant, like me! Nathan came to BC from China to study, simply on the basis that his Uni was close to Vancouver. Turns out he made friends, got an education, and ended up through all of that, being introduced to a little thing called the Good News. Nathan’s rad.

So as we shot back our coffee today our conversation rolled from what he’s reading in the Bible these days, to how he’s read Genesis twice recently, to what he thinks about the creative narrative, which led us ultimately to him telling me all about ancient Chinese creation narratives!

That’s basically it. Maybe I’ll write about them some other time.

Put a chip in my wrist and be done with it

A car-load full of guys is on it’s way to soccer practice. Names have been altered for the protection of those involved:

Bob: Did you hear that soon it’ll be illegal to text or talk on the phone while driving. You’ll have to use a hands free device.

Jerry: Yeah, there have been too many accidents…so sketchy.

Frank: My friend posted a video the other day of a girl driving with her knees and two-thumb texting…for like 30 seconds!

Jerry: Oh man, so flippin stupid. Although, I do that too, sometimes. I just put my phone on the wheel though, so I can still see the road and make sure I’m looking at the road for 5 seconds, then the phone for just 2. Back and forth like that.

Bob: Yeah, I do that, too. Man, there needs to be like some kind of voice command thing…so you can talk and it just types out the words.

Jerry: Yeah. Someone really should make a phone you talk into. It’s kinda stupid we don’t have that.