I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts
January 8, 2016
know (v.)
Spent an afternoon with Mike at the National Gallery attending a free piano concert, as part of the final days of the Goya exhibit. Before the concert, we walked through the rooms as he explained the context of many of the paintings, sharing personal and historical anecdotes, coloured with facts and names.
I am always in awe of people like Mike, who can retain so much information and draw it out at a moment's notice to fill in the gaps of story, which forgetful people like myself leave unfilled when philosophizing about the meanings behind cultural artefacts and the like.
Though I can navigate the systems of the modern world and its many (digital) repositories of knowledge, it had me reflecting on how much I actually know (or rather, don't...or rather, what it is to know at all in today's day and age).
Over coffee earlier in the day, we had spoken about education (Mike being a teacher), and the direction of pedagogy today as a result of technological advances.
Plainly put, we criticized more modern methods whereby the onus is more so on the teacher to teach than it is on the student to learn. (I recalled popular terms at my last job at the university such as "flexible learning", which may be a reflection of this philosophy.)
I agree, in part, with the thinking that discipline and work ethic are essential to learning, and that this is something that can't be taught - it must be willed and practiced by the student from her desire to learn. It made me wonder about the balance in education between cramming the brain full of information versus bringing forth wisdom from the student.
But what is to know? I have learned a lot in my life, from living and from studying hard. But much of what I've been taught in school I have not retained. I cannot list, with much degree of certainty, any number of historical details, which I assure you are required to piece together if one wishes to attain a certain level of sophistication in conversation about say, pretty much anything. This is likely because sophistication requires a knowledge of context, which can be a struggle to weave around an idea if you lack information or the ability to connect essential dots.
I notice this a lot when it comes to art - without knowing the evolution of society, the timeline of social changes, it’s hard to ascertain what it meant then and what it means now. What was once a “revolutionary” perspective or technique? Or reflective of that time, or critical, cynical, or metaphorical in relation to the reality of then? Without a point of reference, it’s hard to comment or form any kind of opinion. Increasingly so, my point of reference has been Wikipedia. (There isn’t a lot wrong with this; but it’s not way to have a conversation.)
Like the ballet earlier this week, this evening’s piano concert was my first. The music, as I closed my eyes in the grand hall with its high arches lined in gold with grandiose portraits of important people of the past watching over us (whose names I do not know without a google search), made me, again, think about education, learning, knowing. My ear was growing accustomed to this new sound: Goyescas, subtitled Los majos enamorados (The Gallants in Love), a piano suite written in 1911 by Spanish composer Enrique Granados. As I listened, all I could make reference to was jazz and typical sounds of "classical" music I had heard before. This was different, but I wasn’t sure how. The program mentioned rubato. I had to look it up. (Do you?)
However, it pulled something out of me. I felt I was learning something even if I couldn't find the words to talk about it intelligibly thereafter (hence, this blog post..I apologize!) But I was learning - to experience. And the Stoic in me is mostly satisfied with that.
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| Piano concert at the National Gallery |
Though I can navigate the systems of the modern world and its many (digital) repositories of knowledge, it had me reflecting on how much I actually know (or rather, don't...or rather, what it is to know at all in today's day and age).
Over coffee earlier in the day, we had spoken about education (Mike being a teacher), and the direction of pedagogy today as a result of technological advances.
educate (v.) late Middle English: from past participle of educare "bring up, rear, educate", which is a frequentative of or otherwise related to educere "bring out, lead forth," from ex- "out" + ducere "to lead".
Plainly put, we criticized more modern methods whereby the onus is more so on the teacher to teach than it is on the student to learn. (I recalled popular terms at my last job at the university such as "flexible learning", which may be a reflection of this philosophy.)
I agree, in part, with the thinking that discipline and work ethic are essential to learning, and that this is something that can't be taught - it must be willed and practiced by the student from her desire to learn. It made me wonder about the balance in education between cramming the brain full of information versus bringing forth wisdom from the student.
But what is to know? I have learned a lot in my life, from living and from studying hard. But much of what I've been taught in school I have not retained. I cannot list, with much degree of certainty, any number of historical details, which I assure you are required to piece together if one wishes to attain a certain level of sophistication in conversation about say, pretty much anything. This is likely because sophistication requires a knowledge of context, which can be a struggle to weave around an idea if you lack information or the ability to connect essential dots.
I notice this a lot when it comes to art - without knowing the evolution of society, the timeline of social changes, it’s hard to ascertain what it meant then and what it means now. What was once a “revolutionary” perspective or technique? Or reflective of that time, or critical, cynical, or metaphorical in relation to the reality of then? Without a point of reference, it’s hard to comment or form any kind of opinion. Increasingly so, my point of reference has been Wikipedia. (There isn’t a lot wrong with this; but it’s not way to have a conversation.)
Like the ballet earlier this week, this evening’s piano concert was my first. The music, as I closed my eyes in the grand hall with its high arches lined in gold with grandiose portraits of important people of the past watching over us (whose names I do not know without a google search), made me, again, think about education, learning, knowing. My ear was growing accustomed to this new sound: Goyescas, subtitled Los majos enamorados (The Gallants in Love), a piano suite written in 1911 by Spanish composer Enrique Granados. As I listened, all I could make reference to was jazz and typical sounds of "classical" music I had heard before. This was different, but I wasn’t sure how. The program mentioned rubato. I had to look it up. (Do you?)
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| Sometimes the only way somewhere is through a "passage" - even if you don't know its name. |
know (v.) Old English cnawan, "to know, perceive; acknowledge”
November 10, 2015
jest (n.,v.) Reflections on page 223 (+ beyond) of DFW's Infinite Jest
Sometimes when there’s so much going on after a big move, all you want to do is be productive - whether by sending resumes or looking at apartments or by taking advantage of having the time to wander around and learn the new place you’re by getting outside and taking it all in.
And sometimes, you just have to curl up with yourself and do exactly what makes time disappear for you, which for me tonight was this (you can also read it on Medium if you prefer):
And sometimes, you just have to curl up with yourself and do exactly what makes time disappear for you, which for me tonight was this (you can also read it on Medium if you prefer):
Some Thoughts on the Dynamics of Chronology & Storytelling in David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest
According to many reading guides for David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, page 223 is one you have to get to; suck it up through the confusion that is the book’s first 222 pages. The guides also tell readers, once there, to bookmark that page as they’ll constantly need to come back to it. At first, that page gave me hope when the book seemed too much to take in and get through. I trembled as I flipped page by page in the 200’s with anticipation. However, once I got there, I was underwhelmed. I realized that maybe they had played a trick on me.
[spoiler alert]
Those who have read Infinite Jest (or as least past page 223!) may agree. The page is to act as an aid to readers by listing the chronology of otherwise unnumbered years to help them piece together the narrative’s events in a more linear fashion. If we know when the events unfold, we can make better connections and better understand correlations and cause and effect that gives reason to the story. Presumably.
But maybe the years don’t matter; maybe a chronology of that kind, formalized and “historized” actually doesn’t matter as much as we think or as much as it should. Which is the point and perhaps why I was so underwhelmed by page 223 and it’s “intel.” Sure there are politics and “milestones” that touch characters’ lives — the same as those that touch our own here — yet, at the end of the day, the longest chapters, the most colourful — at least to me — were those internal dialogues describing more of our banal moments in life (Erdedy, for one). In some ways it didn’t matter when these moments were occurring; committing them to memory is what gave them their weight, as they informed my understanding of each character and DWF’s overall messages about progress, consequence, anticipation, ambition , passing time, and ultimately, the human drive to find “happiness” — or rather, meaning and belief.
Whatever we see fitting to be spotlighted in the central story we tell ourselves is what makes up our lives because it drives how we live. We can look back to the time we waited for something for what seemed like eternity but forget that it also happened many times before and nothing great came of it (Erdedy); we may remember the wrong phone conversations and recall inconsequential ones (Hal and Orin); we may never forget how sick we got all those times, cold-sweat and shuddering on the bathroom floor — except the time that it nearly kills us (Joelle). Those everyday struggles and banalities, the points in our lives that we orient our understanding of ourselves around are what make up our lives, perhaps even who we think we are. Even if there are larger uncontrollable events and circumstances primarily driving our lives forward, what matters is what I’ll call our holydays.
holy (adj.) Old English halig “holy, sacred; godly,” from Proto-Germanic from *kailo- “whole, uninjured.” Primary (pre-Christian) meaning is not possible to determine, but probably it was “that must be preserved whole or intact, that cannot be transgressed or violated,” and connected with Old English hal (see health) “wholeness, a being whole, sound or well,” and Old High German heil “good luck.”
However big or small — whatever are the before Then’s and the after That’s (the “before J. Incandenza’s suicide” or “that night before Interdependence Day”) — these are symbolic days in our minds. Though most obviously our experience of them is linear, what meaning we draw from them can be somewhat arbitrary. Events tend to “reveal” themselves later to us and change in their relative importance as time moves on, and when they occurred becomes less important than the fact that they did. In an effort to weave together a story of our lives that has some semblance of meaning and holiness, we alter and skew, whether consciously or not, our belief or understanding of what really happened. It helps provide us with more more weight as we float so that we may better anchor ourselves — so that we may find some kind of buoyancy in the havoc that is otherwise likely more of an existentialist void, an infinite/simal phenomenon or some metaphysical accident than objectively “a chronicle” or “history” at all. Our “life story” is no happy accident though. It’s a work of art!
luck (n.) late 15c. from early Middle Dutch luc, shortening of gheluc “happiness, good fortune,” of unknown origin [go figure!]
Without those relatively inane, though wholly personal holydays, we cannot find a way to establish our identity, to bookmark our tiny selves into the massive life continuum with whose limits and edges we know little of.Without them we are nothing, unidentified and unidentifiable, with no story, arc, nor denouements, No Amens or Hell Nos; no Holy Cows to accompany the moments that fill the empty hole that otherwise could be any life in this dumbfounding world.
continuum (n.) 1640s, from Latin continuum “a continuous thing,” meaning a continuous sequence in which adjacent elements are not perceptibly different from each other, but the extremes are quite distinct.We need reference points in our experience of the world and what better place to start than with the personal. Many moments the story of a single character or two sweeps the reader into forgetting about some of the dystopian details in the book. However, every time, just as I started getting used to a character, the fractal chronology of the novel took me to a new place, a new time, a new story. DFW forays into the personal amidst a highly complex setting to “authorially” remind that it’s the personal stories and our own ability to relate that help us understand the world — any world imagined by the author, be it Wallace or you.
Ultimately though, absolute clarity can never be achieved — and perhaps only slowly refined if we actually live out the story ourselves and build out the pieces that are missing on our own.
The stories we tell ourself makes each of our lives feel more sacred and unique. This “life storytelling” that moves us through this world marks some of our experiences holy, often obscured, and others and more often, forever lost in the corners of our life. And just like that, as we get caught up in our own holy days, we eject ourselves from the larger picture — akin to when when we pick up a book and get lost in its story, we forget our own.
Thus, it would be reasonable to hypothesize that:
1) Any moment spent reading is not really valuable nor holy until we make it applicable in real life. If we can take what we read, however fictitious, and apply it to our own life as metaphor, fodder for cliches or descriptive inspirations, we may better devise ways to sanctify the moments that happen to us. This can help us find more meaning as we run the chapters of our lives from Capital to period. from life to death, and all the calendar years in between.
2) We should be able to extrapolate our “life story” and its sanctity and meaning more universally and/or objectively. Otherwise we’ll be narcissists, self-possessed theatrical drama queens, perhaps even laughing stocks. Which brings me to:
jest (n.) from Latin gesta ‘actions, exploits’, from gerere ‘do’. The original sense was ‘heroic deed’, hence ‘a narrative of such deeds’; later the term denoted an idle tale, hence a joke.
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| sorry for the #longread |
p.s. I’m only halfway through the book.
p.p.s. I also realized that (and only Infinite Jest readers will get this), November 8th was #InterdependenceDay - and also the day I landed in London. Symbolic much?
June 17, 2015
performance (n.)
This past weekend marked two milestones for me:
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
These two events had me performing in two very different
capacities; though differently uncomfortable about each, I was still equally uncomfortable about both.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
I'd like to think that any amount of "failure" would be worth it if it meant having no regrets; knowing I tried my best, of course, requires trying it in the first place.
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
One involved teaching.
Both involved learning.
Oh, and anxiety.
Did I mention anxiety? (It's one of my strong suits.)
But thankfully, so is coping.
Otherwise, my heart would have palpitated itself to nervousness hell this weekend.
On Saturday, I taught my first full-day workshop on social advertising through SFU Continuing Studies to a class of 29 students. On Sunday, I got on stage under the hot lights of the Rickshaw Theatre and shimmied my way through a group bellydance routine - in front of 300.
performance (n.): late 15c., "accomplishment" (of something), from perform + -ance. Meaning "a thing performed" is from 1590s; that of "a public entertainment" is from 1709.
Some say, "preparation is the mother of victory," yet I can't say I was prepared for either one. How could I be? I'd never done either, so in good ol' overthinky-Vish fashion, my imagination got the best of me and took to my nerves, building up worst case scenarios - over and over - until the only thing I could do was try to forget, drink tequila cocktails and pretend it wasn't happening.
Until it was.
Kidding aside, my coping strategy was this: I kept reminding myself that my "performances" weren't so much about how well I ultimately performed, but how much effort I put into performing my best - whatever that was. In the end, we can't all be superstars. But worse than failing according to some normative standard is 1) not trying; and 2) well... not trying.
 |
| It's not all about the performance. It's more about performing - period. |
All this got me thinking about courage and what it takes for us to try new things - especially those things that elicit that insurmountable fear made all the greater from the weight of public scrutiny.
For me, having people who support me is a huge part of what gets me started. But my own knowledge of the payoff is what keeps me going - the knowledge that if I put in my best efforts, I have much more to gain regardless of what happens, than my audience has to lose if I fail. This helps to takes the pressure off.
Looking back, both my "performances" turned out pretty well; wait, scratch that - they turned out great. Despite my own hard-on-myself standards, I felt incredibly empowered and proud of myself after the applause came. Whether that was due to the quality of my performance or my knowledge that I faced a fear doesn't matter. I came away feeling great - accomplished.
accomplish (v.) from Old French acompliss-, lengthened stem of acomplir, based on Latin ad- + complere ‘to complete.’
After a frenzied weekend of much anticipation and stress, my real accomplishment, as many say, was in fact just "showing up." How you define "showing up" is up to you, though I see it as "showing up" after showing up. This is where the real reward comes from.
It's about starting what you started, yes - but then also following through with integrity.
show up (v.) 1826, "to disgrace through exposure," see show (v.) + up (adv.). Meaning "to put in an appearance, be present" is from 1888.It took almost the length of a human lifetime for the definition to evolve from disgracing someone by exposing them, to willingly exposing oneself. I say: Don't wait your whole life to try something new and scary. Expose yourself to those fears and challenges, do your best, and come into the light.
May 19, 2014
work out (v.)
I figured it's as good a time as any to unload a blog entry on the topic of "working out." Though I did venture out onto the seawall after a 4-week hiatus and rocked a 10K, which I'm feeling pretty good about, (the knee injury is long behind me), the reason I write this has nothing to do with exercise. It just seemed to stick out as an idea whilst trying to "work out" what just happened: I finally caught up with How I Met Your Mother and am trying to cope with the final episode.
While pretty disappointed with the writing of the finale, I won't linger on the details - character development, pacing, blah blah blah; I will say however, that I think there were some things to be learned - at least I hope. Otherwise, what was the point? (My general perspective on life..)
So, accepting the challenge to learn something from this otherwise frustrating HIMYM finale, and urging you to forget that it's after 2am right now (when nothing good happens...), some takeaways:
1. Even when stuff doesn't work out, it works out
2. With the condition that you actually aren't afraid of working hard on getting what you need or want
3. Unless that thing you're working on is outside of your control.
We can work on changing ourselves, slowly working out the kinks; but there are just things in this world that we can't do anything about except observe, step away from, and move on. And when we do that, well, things work out.*
Agree? Disagree? Meh, I don't actually care to discuss. I refuse to give this TV show enough credit to warrant any more philosophizing.
G'nite!
*Quote Reinhold_Niebuhr here.
While pretty disappointed with the writing of the finale, I won't linger on the details - character development, pacing, blah blah blah; I will say however, that I think there were some things to be learned - at least I hope. Otherwise, what was the point? (My general perspective on life..)
So, accepting the challenge to learn something from this otherwise frustrating HIMYM finale, and urging you to forget that it's after 2am right now (when nothing good happens...), some takeaways:
1. Even when stuff doesn't work out, it works out
2. With the condition that you actually aren't afraid of working hard on getting what you need or want
3. Unless that thing you're working on is outside of your control.
We can work on changing ourselves, slowly working out the kinks; but there are just things in this world that we can't do anything about except observe, step away from, and move on. And when we do that, well, things work out.*
Agree? Disagree? Meh, I don't actually care to discuss. I refuse to give this TV show enough credit to warrant any more philosophizing.
G'nite!
*Quote Reinhold_Niebuhr here.
October 4, 2012
broadcasting (v.)
This post is going to very much a morning rant. Mostly because I'm sleepy as I went to bed too late last night, wasting 30 minutes on a boring site that I just have to blog about. I've recently begun a new job, and having done a bit of overtime a few days this week (it's the busy season in MarCom!) I'm really giving myself a hard time for not going to bed before midnight - especially when what I wind up putting my time towards is plain stupid.
So without further ado...
Broadcasting. In the age of the web. Is a force. To be reckoned with.
I stumbled upon a site last night that looked like this:
(YouNow, it's called.) I refuse to embed a link to the site because you shouldn't go there until you hear me out (you may wind up beating yourself up for spending time there). Above, is a guy getting dressed for school (I just grabbed the screenshot a minute ago).
It's a site that broadcasts people live on a number of themed channels. The catch is that once it's your turn to go "live," the time alotted to you to be on air is determined by the number of people watching who give you a thumbs up.
I know - how democratic!
Now, I shouldn't have beef with a site that gives people voice - from both ends. People can decide for themselves what they want to broadcast, and what they want broadcasted to them (or if they want to stay on the channel at all). However, I just found it completely inane that a bunch of these people broadcast themselves out of complete vanity - completely forgetting, along the way, what broadcasting really entails.
Apart from a (very) few people who sing and dance and have something worthy of sharing to watchers (like an opinion, advice, a story....), I mainly watched, in complete Oryx and Crake-ian horror, people (really, teenagers) just sitting at their computers doing absolutely nothing worth watching.
Except I couldn't look away.
Some talked about how they don't know what to say; two people were told to take off their clothes by the people chatting with them (no one did it, but it makes me wonder...); others (popular "YouTubers") recognized YouTube aliases and turned the whole thing into a popularity contest that probably excluded people outside that community (who don't spend 4 hours a day on YouTube).
I spent 4 minutes watching a girl typing on her computer.
And that's when I decided to leave - but, I admit, it was already too much time spent there (and I, once again did not get enough sleep!)
It just makes me think that every idea - even if it's good - isn't necessarily a good idea.
I hope I don't sound like an ignoramus, but something about this whole voyeuristic "broadcast yourself" thing doesn't sit well with me. (Just go read Atwood's Oryx and Crake).
See for yourself and let me know your thoughts. www.younow.com. And while you're there, I'll be on YouTube.
At least I can watch cat videos there.
So without further ado...
Broadcasting. In the age of the web. Is a force. To be reckoned with.
I stumbled upon a site last night that looked like this:
It's a site that broadcasts people live on a number of themed channels. The catch is that once it's your turn to go "live," the time alotted to you to be on air is determined by the number of people watching who give you a thumbs up.
I know - how democratic!
Now, I shouldn't have beef with a site that gives people voice - from both ends. People can decide for themselves what they want to broadcast, and what they want broadcasted to them (or if they want to stay on the channel at all). However, I just found it completely inane that a bunch of these people broadcast themselves out of complete vanity - completely forgetting, along the way, what broadcasting really entails.
Apart from a (very) few people who sing and dance and have something worthy of sharing to watchers (like an opinion, advice, a story....), I mainly watched, in complete Oryx and Crake-ian horror, people (really, teenagers) just sitting at their computers doing absolutely nothing worth watching.
Except I couldn't look away.
Some talked about how they don't know what to say; two people were told to take off their clothes by the people chatting with them (no one did it, but it makes me wonder...); others (popular "YouTubers") recognized YouTube aliases and turned the whole thing into a popularity contest that probably excluded people outside that community (who don't spend 4 hours a day on YouTube).
I spent 4 minutes watching a girl typing on her computer.
And that's when I decided to leave - but, I admit, it was already too much time spent there (and I, once again did not get enough sleep!)
It just makes me think that every idea - even if it's good - isn't necessarily a good idea.
I hope I don't sound like an ignoramus, but something about this whole voyeuristic "broadcast yourself" thing doesn't sit well with me. (Just go read Atwood's Oryx and Crake).
See for yourself and let me know your thoughts. www.younow.com. And while you're there, I'll be on YouTube.
At least I can watch cat videos there.
September 20, 2012
voice (v., n.)
I attended Voices in the Park last weekend and I think it's about time I reflected and committed something into words.
The concert was organized by Sarah McLaghlan to fundraise for her School of Music that she founded in 1990 to bring musical education to underprivileged kids. The line-up was spectacular and even Bill Clinton himself made an appearance commenting on how he owes his presidency to the music instruction he received from an early age. He said music helped build his character so he could better deal with politics, which he referred to as a "contact sport" (no pun intended).
The concert series' cleverly ambiguous name got me thinking about what it means to not only have a voice but to also make your voice heard. I was there to hear the voices of Jann Arden, Stevie Nix, Bryan Adams, and of course, Sarah McLaughlan. But by being there, I was also voicing my support for a good cause.
The reason I pinpoint this particular set-up is because of what I witnessed sitting in Section 2, row 1 that night. It was jarring, cacophonous, inharmonious - and just plain awful.
There was a lady sitting next to us who from the very beginning of the show seemed to have forgotten what brought many of us there in the first place: The desire to hear - and support - artists singing for a good cause. She seemed committed to making sure that those around her were not having a good time - or at least a worse time than she was having. Every few minutes, she'd get up from her seat to shove (yes, shove) someone out of her line of vision and yell out "MOVE!".
The area in front of us was a walkway, yet she took every opportunity to hurry people along by yelling at them and pushing them. She even aggressively pushed a man away who slowed down, leaning on his walking stick, to take a photo of the show. From the place where I was standing, I could see fine - and so could she. But for some reason, her voice seemed to be the most important thing in attendance that evening.
I mentioned that she was being quite rude (though hostile would have been a more accurate description of her behaviour), while others seated farther away gave flashed looks of complete disbelief or repeated and utter disapproval. But none of this seemed to faze her. Our remonstrations seemed only to encourage her.
At one point, even security had to intervene when the lady picked on some semi-inebriated teenage girl who was apparently a bit too Bryan-crazy and anxious to get a closer look at him by standing "too close" to us. I didn't mind at all, and even let the girl share my spot so she could enjoy the show for a bit; but the lady wouldn't have any of it.
But karma did as karma would.
The security people eventually came back. Many of us thought they'd escort this lady out of the show; but instead, whether borne out of intentional wit or not, the security personnel just planted their tall authoritative selves right in front of her for the remainder of the concert. She shut up soon after that (though, believe it or not, she still tried to push one of the security guys away).
There's nothing like having the universe echo your sentiments.
But beyond that, the concert was oh so very moving. Listening to Jann Arden sing "I Would Die For You" with Sarah McLaughlan, cut right into the very core of me. The show had great and well-planned momentum, ramping up with Stevie Nix and Bryan Adams, and as per my taste, closing with some slower music to lull me into the night.
I truly found my peace amongst all the noise that night.
 |
| I kept hoping Bill would play the sax. |
The concert series' cleverly ambiguous name got me thinking about what it means to not only have a voice but to also make your voice heard. I was there to hear the voices of Jann Arden, Stevie Nix, Bryan Adams, and of course, Sarah McLaughlan. But by being there, I was also voicing my support for a good cause.
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| Enjoying sunny Stanley Park with Ben! |
Stanley Park was beautiful. We arrived around 4:30pm, grabbed a plate of $10 dim sum from the food truck, and headed to our seats, as close as we could get to the the stage without dropping $285 for the nice chairs. Our view was spectacular (I'm pretty sure Bryan Adams and I made eye contact).
The reason I pinpoint this particular set-up is because of what I witnessed sitting in Section 2, row 1 that night. It was jarring, cacophonous, inharmonious - and just plain awful.
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| I didn't let myself get too distracted by the obnoxious lady sitting next to me at the concert. Not only did I enjoy the show and getsucked into the music, but I even found a moment to make it ontothe live Twitter feed! (@vishmili) |
The area in front of us was a walkway, yet she took every opportunity to hurry people along by yelling at them and pushing them. She even aggressively pushed a man away who slowed down, leaning on his walking stick, to take a photo of the show. From the place where I was standing, I could see fine - and so could she. But for some reason, her voice seemed to be the most important thing in attendance that evening.
I mentioned that she was being quite rude (though hostile would have been a more accurate description of her behaviour), while others seated farther away gave flashed looks of complete disbelief or repeated and utter disapproval. But none of this seemed to faze her. Our remonstrations seemed only to encourage her.
At one point, even security had to intervene when the lady picked on some semi-inebriated teenage girl who was apparently a bit too Bryan-crazy and anxious to get a closer look at him by standing "too close" to us. I didn't mind at all, and even let the girl share my spot so she could enjoy the show for a bit; but the lady wouldn't have any of it.
But karma did as karma would.
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| We are all going to find things that stand in our way. I think that how we deal with those things will determine if they're actually in our way or if we're in our own way. |
There's nothing like having the universe echo your sentiments.
But beyond that, the concert was oh so very moving. Listening to Jann Arden sing "I Would Die For You" with Sarah McLaughlan, cut right into the very core of me. The show had great and well-planned momentum, ramping up with Stevie Nix and Bryan Adams, and as per my taste, closing with some slower music to lull me into the night.
I truly found my peace amongst all the noise that night.
"Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances." - Mahatma Gandhi
September 9, 2012
face value (n.)
Last week, I divulged some fatalistic philosophies, about the design behind all we face - in ourselves and our reactions, and in the behaviour of others. (After all, interaction is just a bunch of reactions firing off.) I then briefly concluded that it's important to look for the story and intricacies behind things that are happening in order to appreciate them, even if (especially, if ) they're bad. Finding compassion and understanding helps you react more calmly, get less flustered, and think your reaction through a bit better before you act and set off a negative chain reaction.
Jumping to conclusions is based on expectations. Our expectations can affect our attitude toward ourselves - take for instance in yoga class: How deep we can go into a yoga pose; how long we can hold it
for; how we should look in it, etc. That's why I think that we should look into the design of things to try and understand the motivations behind things that happen (or don't happen); in short, we should be trying to avoid judging things at face value.
Just like we have certain expectations of ourselves, we also have expectations of others. We assume people will act a certain way, and when they don't (or when they do, to our discontent) we often forget that they, too, are dealing with their own challenges, and reactions; the best we can do is not further perpetuate an icky chain reaction by being only concerned with their face value. Don't judge a book by it's cover!
A tension always exists when human beings try to face difficult truths. So, the best we can do when we are faced with a negative vibe from ourselves or someone else is to read it beyond what's simply seen right off the bat (it could be a foul or a home run, a strike or a walk, a hit or a fly ball... Except in life, it's often more than just one of these outcomes!)
Observing the world, every nook and cranny of it, rather than just reacting to it, makes it all the more satisfying to be a part of because we realize that every truth has many faces. Perhaps we'll see that the challenge is just a facade we've created to avoid having to take on new opportunities that may help us to prevail, improve, succeed. It's always easier to just throw a tantrum, freak out, turn into a baby, clench up, etc., etc.
A lot of this thinking has actually been inspired by a show that I religiously watch: America's Next Top Model. (Don't judge me, or it, at face value!) As I watch the girls endlessly battle it out in photoshoots and get all catty with each other in the house, I am reminded that I shouldn't take it at face value - like all TV, it's edited for a certain audience with certain objectives in mind. It isn't a straight-up representation of what went down in the actual competition - duh. But there's another lesson to be learned: The entertainment value of it is still in its face value. Sometimes we just have to be a bit lazy (of body and mind) and coast a bit to enjoy life. Just don't forget to look beyond the shell, the cover, the screen, the face; otherwise you'll get duped into believing a reality that just isn't or doesn't have to be.
 |
| You better believe it there's a book. |
Just like we have certain expectations of ourselves, we also have expectations of others. We assume people will act a certain way, and when they don't (or when they do, to our discontent) we often forget that they, too, are dealing with their own challenges, and reactions; the best we can do is not further perpetuate an icky chain reaction by being only concerned with their face value. Don't judge a book by it's cover!
A tension always exists when human beings try to face difficult truths. So, the best we can do when we are faced with a negative vibe from ourselves or someone else is to read it beyond what's simply seen right off the bat (it could be a foul or a home run, a strike or a walk, a hit or a fly ball... Except in life, it's often more than just one of these outcomes!)
Observing the world, every nook and cranny of it, rather than just reacting to it, makes it all the more satisfying to be a part of because we realize that every truth has many faces. Perhaps we'll see that the challenge is just a facade we've created to avoid having to take on new opportunities that may help us to prevail, improve, succeed. It's always easier to just throw a tantrum, freak out, turn into a baby, clench up, etc., etc.
A lot of this thinking has actually been inspired by a show that I religiously watch: America's Next Top Model. (Don't judge me, or it, at face value!) As I watch the girls endlessly battle it out in photoshoots and get all catty with each other in the house, I am reminded that I shouldn't take it at face value - like all TV, it's edited for a certain audience with certain objectives in mind. It isn't a straight-up representation of what went down in the actual competition - duh. But there's another lesson to be learned: The entertainment value of it is still in its face value. Sometimes we just have to be a bit lazy (of body and mind) and coast a bit to enjoy life. Just don't forget to look beyond the shell, the cover, the screen, the face; otherwise you'll get duped into believing a reality that just isn't or doesn't have to be.
January 22, 2011
receipt (n.)
For one, I will begin with what about the word "receipt" inspired me to write earlier today.
You may be thinking that I'm talking about receipts in the spirit of Mitch Hedburg's complaint about not needing to get "ink and paper involved" because no one can really quite imagine "a scenario that I would have to prove that I bought a doughnut."
However, somewhere beyond the humour, the receipt still stands for something symbolic. It's a little snippet of your purchasing archives - which led me to think about how we spend our money in general.
The conversation came about when I was chatting with my boyfriend about the latest movie to hit the box office: Barney's Version.
You see, the brother of a friend of mine adapted the screenplay (which is kind of a big deal, yah know?). I feel that I want to somehow support it, (which in the movie biz is often by contributing to its revenue): I want to purchase a movie ticket.
However, I am presently on page 23 of Barney's Version (by Mordecai Richler).
I want to read the book first, but I fear the movie leaving theatres before I can show my $upport...
Then I had an enlightening thought (I think).
Get a receipt
and then reseat!
What I really mean is, swipe my debit card, walk away with my movie ticket for Barney's Version, and then relocate my bum to a different film playing at the same show time (I mean, I gotta get something from the theatre in return!)
In the meantime, I can get moving to page 24 and try to win the race - and hopefully show my financial support twice!
What do you think? Have I lost my mind? Are they gonna catch me? Is it immoral? Will Natalie Portman's producers get mad? Do I care?
[On another note: I didn't forget my remark about irony. I realized that I wish blogger had some kind of receipt to give me every time I published a post. Earlier today, I deleted "this" post (an older, better, pre-rewritten version) and had no way of getting it back. No cache; no nothin! I had to reseat myself on my couch and rewrite this goddamn thing because I have no archive of drafts and old versions- I have no receipt!]
Alright, I've paid double (time) to get this posted so I hope it was worth it. Enjoy! Comment. Let me know if you think I'm crazy and whether my old post deletion was really a sign that I should've just left my blog as is: with no transactions, un-cached.
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