mea culpa

is there any value in an apology? i have often engaged in heated discussions with a certain someone (let's call her v) over the relevance, if any, of an apology. the debate typically centres around when and why an apology should be delivered. the issue as to when refers to the timing of the apology - specifically, how soon after the initial conflict should an apology be offered. the issue as to why refers to the objective of the apology - specifically, which wrong should the apology attempt to right. i have always felt that, in order to be convincing, an apology should be delivered relatively soon after the offending behaviour. otherwise it may appear artful and calculated. but v has argued that an apology granted immediately afterwards must necessarily lack reflection and sincerity. as for the question of why an apology is delivered, i believe that the words "i'm sorry" should be directed solely towards alleviating the hurt feelings of the injured party. accordingly, whether or not the sender of the apology feels genuinely remorseful for his behaviour is largely irrelevant. but v has suggested that the overall goal of any apology should ultimately be the resolution of the difficulties between the warring parties. as a result, in order to be effective an apology must express the heartfelt desire of both parties to reach an amicable settlement of their differences. personally i have never uttered the phrase "i'm sorry" where i lacked either genuine regret or an honest desire to make things right between myself and the other combatant. so the question then becomes: isn't that enough?

"an apology is the superglue of life. it can repair just about anything." - lynn johnston

it sure is windy out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh9cNYlmXEY

i feel so chillin' that i must be illin'

g don't feel so good.

"sometimes the greatest truths between two people are the truths never spoken" - anonymous

i'm in no mood for tunes

red smarties are my favourite

i visited my old academic stomping ground today. thirteen kids and i made the trek up north to check in with my alma mater. and sitting in on a first-year legal procedure class, i was reminded of some of the same insecurities i faced on my first day of law school twenty years earlier. the most pronounced among them being the feelings of intellectual inferiority. everyone just sounds so damn bright in law school. but then i was reminded of a psychological theory introduced to me for the first time at around the same time i began law school. i'm referring to howard gardner's theory of multiple intelligences. a theory that has become so meaningful to me that it has ultimately come to form the philosophical basis of my present career. ask the kids what i talk about in the first week of accounting class. or business class. or law class. it sure as hell isn't accounting or business or law. instead i show them gardner's list of alternative intelligences. the reason? because i was raised in an era where those who performed poorly in math or science were made to feel inferior... to feel stupid. in fact, in my day, anyone who performed poorly in middle school or beyond was made to feel intellectually inadequate. as if performing well on a math test or a science lab should represent the litmus test for true intelligence. hey, i've done pretty well on those types of assignments throughout my academic career. so what does that say about me? it says that i studied for the damn test. but it sure as heck doesn't qualify me as a genius. and so what can we make of that middle-aged man sitting in front of me at osgoode today who seemed to know the answers to all the questions. what do we know about him now? well, he obviously read the case materials the evening before. and he certainly appeared to have a strong grasp of the english language. but could he play a simple three-chord progression on an acoustic guitar? maybe. could he accurately sketch a waterfall appearing at the break of dawn? maybe. could he ever hope to make contact with a 70 mph curve ball? maybe. could he come to terms with his own motivation to attend law school? maybe. could he communicate effectively with the members of his legal procedure study group? maybe. or maybe not.

"continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential." - winston churchill

the kids are alright: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG_uDDEnzC4

fax me

sometimes people are wrong. plain and simple. so you can't believe everything you hear. in fact, my mother once said, "believe nothing you hear, half of what you read, and all that you see." so why are people wrong occasionally? for a variety of reasons. people may not have all of the facts. people may not know how to interpret the facts they have. people may choose not to believe the facts. people may not remember all of the facts. people may elect to deliberately twist the facts. people may wholly invent the facts. people may ignore the most telling facts. people may miscommunicate the facts. ahem, so what's a poor man to do in light of these unfortunate circumstances? why figure it out for yourself, of course.

"facts are simple and facts are straight. facts are lazy and facts are late. facts all come with points of view. facts don't do what i want them to." - talking heads

the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOBcwJbKOdY

more random thoughts 'round midnight

some more random thoughts:

• if today is the first day of the rest of your life, then what was yesterday?
• how demoralizing it must be for the beauty queen to stroll through hollister or a&f and not be offered a gig
• in your day there were concealers and cover-ups; in my day there were band-aids and lies
• even the smartest man on earth knows only a tiny fraction of the secrets of the universe
• why must all rhetorical questions be met with a response... richard?

then g-d said "let there be light" and there was phil collins: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1l2kUeIYvQ

act one, scene one

FADE IN:

EXT. NEIGHBOURHOOD PARK - DAY

A FATHER and DAUGHTER are seated on a bench in a quiet park. The daughter appears about two years old. Elsewhere in the park, a few CHILDREN can be seen climbing on playground equipment. The father is peeling an orange for his daughter.

FATHER

Are you hungry?

DAUGHTER

(unclear)

Wok. Papa. Tiza.

FATHER

What?

DAUGHTER

(unclear)

Wok. Papa. Tiza.

The daughter makes repeated gestures with her closed fist in an up-and-down motion.

FATHER

What are you doing?

DAUGHTER

(unclear)

Wok. Papa. Tiza.

Again, the daughter makes repeated gestures with her closed fist in an up-and-down motion.

DAUGHTER

(louder but still unclear)

Wok! Papa! Tiza!

FATHER

Wok, papa, tiza?

DAUGHTER

(even louder but still unclear)

Wok! Papa! Tiza!

The father mimics the hand gestures of his daughter for a few seconds.

FATHER

(relieved)

Oh! Rock, paper, scissors.

FADE OUT.

"hate put me in prison. love's gonna bust me out." - the hurricane (1999)

tell us how you really feel, dave: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGQAfolOJUI

kung hei fat choi

so this is what it all comes down to. four decades on the planet earth and all i have to show for it is the wisdom and profoundness that follow. alas, behold the learned insights and discerning observations of the incurable chinese buffet enthusiast. step one. plan your visit for the lunch hour between monday and friday exclusively. otherwise, the price tag on your outing grows exponentially higher. pity those poor souls foolish enough to make their reservations for the supper hour or, heaven forbid, the dreaded weekend or holiday season. zac efron may know what time it is, but my gastrointestinal tract sure as hell can't tell the difference. step two. ask to be seated as close to the buffet table as possible. after all, time is money or, in this case, the maximum number of trips to the sushi bar before closing hour. step three. never begin with the soup. it's a ruse! soup fills your belly with liquids sending false signals to your brain insisting that you're full. instead, wait till the end of the meal before pouring a gallon of hot and sour down your throat. that way, the juices will simply snake their way through the mishmash of partially-digested foodstuffs wedged inside your esophagus. step four. avoid the cheap stuff. rice and noodles go for pennies on the open market. broccoli and cauliflower are finger foods for six-year-olds. instead, stuff your face with the really expensive crap. shrimp'll always cost the average man an arm and a leg. beef and chicken can never be had for less than a few dollars a kilo. and they ain't serving spareribs and scallops in the big house these days either. so go ahead. indulge. besides, if you eat too much, you can always metabolize the excess over the next few days like a hibernating bear. step five. protect your knife and fork at all times. they represent your lifeline to the promised land. but be warned that buffet waiters are trained to secretly steal away your silverware the moment you look away. so guard your cutlery with the same ferocity of a pit bull hovering over a bone. and finally, step six. always leave the restaurant satiated... and holding as many dry items from the dessert table as you can muster. so on your way out, grab a few almond cookies, and maybe a mandarin or two, and who can say no to a lemon tart? hey, you paid for an all-you-can-eat experience. so eat all you can. and don't forget to say good-bye to the mint lady. bon appetit.

"do vegetarians eat animal crackers?" - unknown

and i'm not even that religious: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Uxc9eFcZyM

open your eyes

it is my humble opinion that sleep is highly overrated. for one, nothing ever happens when you're asleep. i mean, things certainly happen while you're sleeping, but due to your state of partial unconsciousness, you can't possibly be aware of those occurrences. and for another, nothing ever gets accomplished when you're asleep. nobody has ever solved a global economic crisis while they were asleep. nobody has ever composed a heartwrenching poem while they were asleep. nobody has ever changed another person's life while they were asleep. and what's more, sleep is boring. unless you're fortunate enough to recall your dreams the morning after, that is. but i haven't recalled any of my dreams in years. so i reiterate, sleep is boring. i would yawn but i'm already asleep.

"a brave man dreams with his eyes open." - unknown

rapid eye movement and the neverending search for the quintessential dream: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bmxyj6iInMc

p.s. the sky was grey. the wind was whipping. the temperatures were numbing. and the teeth were chattering. but the team looked good on day one. and dare i say it but there seems to be something special about this motley crew of seasoned veterans and fresh-faced newbies. stay tuned.

"keep away from those who try to belittle your ambitions. small people always do that, but the really great make you believe that you, too, can become great.” - mark twain

two kinds of ice cream

i was all set to pen a scathing diatribe about my utter hatred of all things coffee and the pretentiousness of java lovers worldwide, but quite frankly, i'm just too sleepy to muster the necessary ill will to compose such a bitter screed. so instead, i'll respond to a query directed my way from a most unusual, and hitherto anonymous, source. the query? are you happy, sir? what an interesting question. am i happy? well, i suppose i'm happy, but i guess it all depends on how one wishes to define happiness. i smile quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. i know a girl who is always smiling, even when she is decidedly unhappy. in fact, the more unhappy she becomes, the more she chooses to force out a smile. so perhaps smiling should not be used as the litmus test for happiness. i laugh quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. there is a homeless man living behind the library near my condo who is always giggling to himself. but he also sobs loudly for hours at a time and eats garbage from a nearby dumpster. and sometimes he shouts angrily at invisible enemies. so perhaps laughing should not be used as the litmus test for happiness either. i appear to walk confidently through life quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. my best friend in high school could certainly be described as someone who appeared to walk confidently through life. but once, during a moment of grim revelation, he admitted to me that his public persona was just that - a persona. secretly, he would later confess, life was a challenge for him as he struggled desperately with issues of self-image and adolescent insecurities. yes, but everyone loves being with you, i asserted in his defence. that may be true, he would reply, but the real question is: do i love being with myself? so perhaps walking confidently through life should not be used as the litmus test for happiness. ok, so what then is the determining factor in terms of defining true happiness? surely no one can be genuinely happy all of the time? that much is obvious to me. and where exactly is the dividing line between happiness and mere contentment? between contentment and mere being. ah, who the hell knows. i sure don't. but i do know that writing about happiness hasn't added to my own level of happiness one iota. so maybe i'll do now what i always do when i wish to feel happier. i'll go check on my sleeping daughters for a few minutes before returning to the computer to search for tunes on youtube. it hasn't failed me yet.

"there's no point to any of this. it's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. so I take pleasure in the details. you know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and i, i sit back and i smoke my camel straights and i ride my own melt." - reality bites (1994)

the ultimate panacea, pick-me-up and cure-all for all that ails you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xz-UvQYAmbg

just give it some time

the speech therapist made a point of reminding me that the benchmarks used to measure "normal" language development in children were just that - benchmarks. some kids would acquire their language skills a little bit earlier. other kids would acquire those same skills a little bit later on. still, i couldn't help but feel that she was patronizing me when she said that my two-year-old was already making progress. after all, how could she say that after only three one-hour sessions? i certainly hadn't seen any improvements up to that point. i had first recognized that my kid had a problem when, as a freshly-minted two-year-old, she still had trouble being understood by the symphony of geriatric neighbours chatting her up in the elevator of our building. the pattern had become firmly established. mrs schwartz would ask my daughter for her age. my daughter would reply in her clearest voice: "tao!" slightly befuddled, mrs schwartz would then turn to me and remark, "what did she say?" the speech therapist (which sounds so much less intimidating than speech-language pathologist) once asked me if i had experienced any issues surrounding my own personal language development as a child. as a matter of fact, i replied, i was aware of at least one somewhat noteworthy milestone in terms of my own early linguistic evolution. apparently, i had failed to utter a single word until the time of my third birthday. in fact, my mother was so concerned about the state of my mental health at the time that she actually had me examined by a licensed shrink (not an inviting proposition in those days) in order to see if there were any cracks that needed to be filled. as it turns out, by the time of my fourth birthday, i had deservedly earned the nickname "motormouth." my mother would subsequently observe that she spent the first three years of my life begging me to speak up and the next twenty years of my life begging me to shut up. anyway, getting back to the trials and tribulations of my own offspring, the therapy sessions will likely continue for the foreseeable future. the good news is that two seems largely oblivious to the entire ordeal. in fact, the kid seems rather bemused by the very nature of the sessions themselves. the other day for instance, when asked to describe the colour of the ball being held by her therapist, two blissfully responded, "back." "i think she meant black," remarked ms ph.d. to which my daughter replied, "no, give it back." i couldn't help but smile.

"if things go wrong, don't go with them." - roger babson

you try living with a seven-year-old and not hearing this ditty 300 times a day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ye3T82Y5FHs

context

so there i was seated in the waiting room at my kid's ballet class. seven's class. one of the other parents had just asked me what my kid liked to do in her spare time. besides ballet. hmmm, let's see. there's swim lessons. and cooking class. and art class. and t-ball. and soccer come july. a rather impressive list. or so i thought. and what about your daughter, i inquired. hmmm, let's see. there's ballet, of course. and swimming. and cooking. and art. and t-ball. and soccer. and skiing. and guitar. and gymnastics. and that's when i realized it. that's when i realized that i can't compete. not in this neighbourhood, anyway. not with this crowd. and so i began to feel sorry for seven. because this is the neighbourhood that she will grow up in. and these are the kids that she will compare herself to. and this is how she will be judged by her peers. and whether it is fair or proper or even important is not really the issue. because these are the laws in this jungle. and seven never asked for any of this.

"little girls are cute and small only to adults. to one another they are not cute. they are life-sized." - margaret atwood

notice how he spells his name with a "y": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMe7WdK-XKo

put your hands up

security to zone four. security to zone four. and with those eight simple words, i was officially a suspect. at winners, no less. within a few seconds, the not-so-subtly disguised undercover security guard at my local off-price fashion retailer was eyeballing me like a kitty eyeballs a toy mouse. and what was my crime, you may ask? well, i suppose i was guilty of being simultaneously shifty and dishevelled as i perused the designer leather belts stationed in... um, stationed in zone four, i reckon. shifty because i had just woken up and had yet to find my bearings. dishevelled because i had yet to shower that day (or the previous day, i might add) due to the march break school holidays. but was i offended? after all, i am an upstanding member of the community and hardly a suspect for gta's most wanted. to be honest though, i was almost a little... well, flattered. the fact that i warranted even a modicum of surveillance suggested that i at least had the potential to present myself as someone who flirts with the wrong side of the law. it reminded me of that time i was strolling down yonge street near st clair when suddenly, out of nowhere, a cruiser pulled up and out jumped two coppers who told me to freeze, take my hands out of my pocket and drop my knapsack (in that order). apparently, as they would later explain, i very much resembled a suspect in a nearby bank holdup. me? i resembled a bank robber? there are bank robbers out there who fit the description of tall, gangly and awkward? and wear stripey shirts from the gap? or that time at the simon bolivar airport in caracas when three (three!) heavily-armed customs officers asked me to step out of the lineup before conducting an illegal search of my person. i guess i should have shaven that day.

"what if this is as good as it gets?" - as good as it gets (1997)

she said that she hailed from edinburgh and that was enough for me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK08XU4VaLQ

random thoughts 'round midnight

some random thoughts:

• patience is only a virtue for those who have nothing to do for the rest of the day
• when you're odd and rich they call you eccentric but when you're odd and poor they call you insane
• why is it that the wealthiest celebrities in hollywood, with access to the best professional services money can buy, still can't seem to find a decent plastic surgeon
• the respectful follow tradition while the respected create tradition
• how come every woman who believes in reincarnation claims to have been a queen or a princess in her previous life - could she not have been a data entry clerk or a pharmacist instead

my earliest memory of music and my first guilty pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM4RtUo5s0g

regrets i've had a few

i heard myself shouting at my kid today. seven. i took her bike out of storage for the first ride of the season. this after i spent most of last summer showing her how to ride her disney princess special edition. by the time school started up last september she had all but mastered the craft. or so i had thought. today she seemed so unsure of herself. she could barely push off without toppling over. and once she found her balance she proceeded to tip over three more times. she almost hit a parked car. she slammed into the curb on another occasion before spilling onto the neighbour's lawn. and so i lost my temper. i said some pretty terrible things. and as those words spilled out of my mouth i couldn't help but remember. i was reminded that those same words once left my old man's mouth with alarming frequency. that was one of the reasons i left the family home at 17. and one of the reasons i've barely spoken to the old man since. and yet today, the cycle was complete. it seems like the more we try to distance ourselves from our parents, the more we become just like them.

there's one sad truth in life i've found
while journeying east and west
the only folks we really wound
are those we love the best
we flatter those we scarcely know
we please the fleeting guest
and deal full many a thoughtless blow
to those who love us best
- ella wheeler wilcox

it must be the phenylethylamine that's making me feel this way:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I5sixwOQlg&feature=related

welcome to the gap

sometimes you have to dig a little to unearth an old treasure chest and sometimes you just stumble upon one without warning. to wit: i just received an email coupon good for 30% off all merchandise at the gap and old navy beginning this weekend. pinch me 'cause i must be dreaming. for ever since i hit puberty, the gap (and later old navy) has been my fashion outlet of choice for reasons that i would prefer to keep to myself. suffice to say, though, that nary a weekend has passed since my adolescence when i didn't pay a visit to my local gap or old navy outlet. there must be something about the sheen of sun-soaked polos and the eternal hipness of khaki cargos that just sets my heart-a-racing. and i do get quite a kick out of the obedient puppy mannequins standing on guard at the gap's sister store. one caveat though. the fine print says that the discount cannot be combined with any other offer or discount. wha? there isn't a single item perched on the slightly-dishevelled shelves at old navy that isn't perpetually on sale. i haven't seen a graphic tee at regular price since this nation actually had a navy. oh well, menswear is still on the third floor, right?

"the only rule is don't be boring and dress cute wherever you go. life is too short to blend in." - paris hilton on the big picture

they ain't lyte and they ain't funky: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHuGG_FsC20

la-la-la-latrine

yorkdale was surprisingly quiet this afternoon. but that still didn't make my trip to the family washroom near shoppers drug mart any easier. seven had to use the facilities. she's too old now to accompany me to the men's room. but, in my highly overprotective opinion, she's still too young to visit the ladies' room on her own. something about kidnappers or creepers or falling into the bowl. so the family washroom is the perfect compromise. when seven was younger and barely out of diapers, the decision as to which public lavatory to use was simpler. where no family restroom was available, she and i were forced to pay a visit to the urinal chamber. of course, difficulties inevitably arose. for one, she's a girl, so standing up was never an option. but making contact with a yellow-soaked toilet seat was also out of the question. over time i mastered the art of holding seven just inches above the bowl with one arm tucked under her knees while the other arm supported her weight behind her back. this usually resulted in most of her business ending up inside the porcelain, although every now and then an occasional misfire would necessitate a vigorous scrubbing of my hands and arms under a warm tap for a few hours. later i would perfect my patented technique of laying bathroom tissue across the seat. front. side. back. side. and repeat. and repeat again. and again. by the time i was done unfurling the roll, the split plastic seat looked more like a cushion. so that brings me back to yorkdale and our father and daughter outing to the family restroom. seven is strong enough and agile enough now to hover over the bowl by herself in a crouched position without actually making contact with the seat. frankly the kid is a pro. i guess i'm proud of her. not quite first steps proud or valedictorian proud, but proud nonetheless.

"when you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice." - cherokee proverb

speaking of bathroom humour, this is almost as funny as the original: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOWK7Tam01M

not every title need be a single word

really, is there anything more grating on the nerves than the know-it-all? you're familiar with the know-it-all. that guy or gal who insists on sharing their awareness of the mating habits of australian sea monkeys with anyone and everyone who can't quite escape fast enough. the other day i was subjected to an intellectual beatdown at the hands of our friendly, neighbourhood know-it-all. i didn't ask for a beating mind you, but i sure as hell took one anyway. the onslaught began with a dressing-down over my lack of comprehension concerning notable tourist attractions in the far east. it continued with a consciousness-raising lecture on the role of women in 18th-century prussia. throw in a few highly-unnecessary allusions to recent advances in genetically-modified foods and voila... we have a winner. you, sir, are officially brighter than me. props to you, my good man. i have been officially schooled. burn. ok, so it appears to me then that fifteen-year-olds impress with clothing and electronics. thirty-five-year-olds impress with cars and homes. and fifty-year-olds impress with their extensive knowledge of mineral water, to borrow a phrase from ben stiller's nemesis. but what can i contribute to this increasingly scholarly and erudite debate? well, let's see. uh... i've managed to memorize the value pick menu at mcdonald's. and thanks to seven and two, i'm pretty familiar with just about every programming choice on the family channel. so is it zack or cody who should avoid the seafood bar for a few months? and perhaps zoey should have stayed in the dorm room that night. ugh. woe is what i have become.

more words of wisdom from super agent dicky fox: "if this (points to heart) is empty, this (points to head) doesn't matter." - jerry maguire (1996)

and more proof that the brits do it better, especially in black & white: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYK7bEo1Z4M

quest

the team met for the first time today. all the coaches were there. all the managers were there. all the veterans were there. all the newbies were there. tryouts in less than two weeks. i must say that i foresee great things from this mixture of experience and enthusiasm. i already have the lineup for opening day in mind. ok, so we don't quite have a starting pitcher just yet. or a backup catcher, in the unlikely event that our starting catcher goes down. and the 'personalities' on the squad are just as pronounced this year as they were last. but each new season brings forth hope that this will finally be the year. for me the team is the highlight of the academic year. each september, from the moment i first set foot inside the school, i eagerly await the budding signs of spring. i wonder if the girls sense my anxiety. at the vancouver olympics several canadian athletes who were heavily favoured to win claimed that the pressure to succeed made it impossible for them to prepare for their events. they claimed that they felt as though their journey to the olympics had been hijacked by the impossible demands of the nation. as a result they were forced to surrender ownership of their competitive spirit to the nameless and faceless residents of their native land. does my team want to win as badly as i do? and should i be concerned if they don't? after all it is just a game, isn't it? but i have learned a few things from my years as both player and coach. first and foremost amongst them is that winning breeds confidence. and confidence, i would propose, is the holy grail of adolescence. and so the quest begins.

"walt whitman once said, 'i see great things in baseball. it's our game, the american game. it will repair our losses and be a blessing to us.' you could look it up." - bull durham (1988)

in the beginning g-d created peter gabriel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMwn_hnoS5Y

go

so i was waiting on a red light at the corner of spadina and eglinton early this evening. on my way home from school. the light had just turned green but there were still a few mercedes and volvos making their way through the intersection. off the yellow. that's when the audi behind me began to honk. go! go already, screeched the audi. go? how the hell could i go? there was a volvo still making its way through the intersection. if i moved, i would have been t-boned on the passenger side. i like my honda. and i like my passenger side. and it's been eight years since my last accident. but none of that seemed to matter to the audi. go! floor it! hit the gas already! perish in a fiery crash! but whatever you do honda, just get outta my way! bad audi.

troy laying it on the line to lelaina: "you can't navigate me. i may do mean things, and i may hurt you, and i may run away without your permission, and you may hate me forever, and i know that scares the living s--- outta you 'cause you know i'm the only real thing you got." - reality bites (1994)

with the promise of a better life for all, wishing you love, peace and soul: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVF4r3fLBrU

passing

corey haim died today. lost boys. license to drive. lucas. he was my contemporary. we grew up with him. not quite a shock but still a surprise. i can't quite get my head around it. maybe it's because he was a jewish kid from toronto. like me. not a great actor but still a part of my childhood. part of my memories of growing up in thornhill. i remember running into him at yonge and eglinton years later as an adult. there he was in the flesh. he was real. yes, he had problems. but he was one of us. and now he's gone.

"why do we always tell kids to work on their weaknesses? that will only make them average. i say work on your strengths instead. then at least you have the chance to be great." - rim visitor (2010)

just when i thought pearl jam couldn't get any better: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTb9GNIxpMk

amigos

i guess it was my wife who pointed out that all of my favorite films feature one of two dominant themes: sons estranged from their fathers or friendships surviving in the face of adversity

"i thought that was the whole plan. i thought we were gonna waste the rest of our lives together." - breaking away (1979)

some other thoughts on friendship from stevie nicks: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f46rv5EWbAU

marriage. kids. job. car. mortgage.

the five pillars of adulthood. you can see them in the title. the inevitable result of a life lived.

"a good teacher has been defined as one who makes himself progressively unnecessary." - thomas j. carruthers

edwin's version of what it means to be alive: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqxaAfaCln8