and the award goes to...

never begin a sentence with and or but. never use i in a formal essay. always say may i and not can i when asking for permission.

it's not that any of the foregoing axioms are necessarily incorrect. and i'm sure the folks who passed along the preceding principles to you had their hearts in the right place. but the truth is not always as it appears - for truth is, by definition, both relative and subjective.

and rather than asking, should i adhere to the above rules, i would argue that the more relevant question has become, why should i adhere to the above rules. grammar aside, the larger debate is really one of societal norms. conformity is a sticky issue, especially in the context of academics and adolescence. on the one hand, we all desire to fit in and feel like we belong to a larger social construct, and often it is only through strict obedience to established codes of conduct that such is possible. on the other hand, individuality and self-expression are powerful forces in the lives of young people and sometimes, it is in one's best interests to throw caution and conventionality to the wind.

look, you do whatever you think is right for you. personally, i always ask myself the following: what exactly do i gain from conformity? then i apply a simple cost-benefit analysis in order to arrive at the best decision for me. and even when such an analysis yields a clear result, i still may choose to ignore my own advice in order to satisfy other, unrelated priorities.

i once heard a rather clever description of the age-old struggle between conformity and individuality described as such: play by the rules until you have achieved a certain level of influence and authority and then once you have attained your desired standing within the community, use your newfound influence and authority to create your own rules of the game.

i'm betting that einstein didn't always play by the rules. or newton. or confucius. or shakespeare. or gandhi. or mandela. or lennon. or gates. or oprah. or phil. (no, not dr. phil.)

for what it's worth.

http://www.businesswritingblog.com/business_writing/2005/11/but_its_okay_an.html

http://www.unc.edu/depts/wcweb/handouts/should_I_use_I.html

http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/can-versus-may2.aspx

ok, so a greedy, multinational pharmaceutical company (not my words) is behind this ad, but it sure does tug on the heartstrings: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvAp40kpdGc

"you don't get harmony when everybody sings the same note." - doug floyd

close your big brown eyes

as i sit here at my computer, i am constantly reminded of my seven-year-old's rather unusual sleeping habits. because her bedroom is only thirty or so feet away from my present position, i am privy to most of the night's proceedings from my vantage point here in the living room.

for one, seven doesn't just talk in her sleep, she has full-on conversations in her sleep. now as for whom she is speaking with, i haven't a clue. sometimes the conversation is littered with monosyllabic utterances such as "ooh" and "ah" while at other times, the discourse seems to focus on more grandiose themes like "a day at the park with my best friend" or "lunch with the girls at the pickle barrel."

moreover, my eldest exhibits a somewhat curious tendency to grasp at her neck while she slumbers. this she may have inadvertently inherited from her old man as i have always felt the need to wedge a foreign object (pillow, blanket, etc.) beneath my chin as i snooze, perhaps in response to some irrational fear of being strangled in my sleep or perhaps in response to some perfectly rational fear of having something come in contact with my adam's apple (wince and shudder).

as for my two-year-old, the good news is that she possesses her own uniquely peculiar sleeping customs as well. in the first place, my youngest appears to be physically incapable of falling asleep at night without her legs eventually coming to rest as they dangle over the side of the bed. in fact, during an average night, i am forced to enter her bedroom on at least a half-dozen occasions just to make sure that she hasn't fallen from her twin-sized perch onto the floor. and i should also mention that every time i swing her legs back onto her mattress, i am usually rewarded with a kick or two to the mid-section as a subconscious thank you for all my efforts.

additionally, my two-year-old appears to take great pride in tossing her stuffed animals from her bed at various intervals throughout the evening. quite frankly i'm not really sure why i even bother to load up her sleeping area with her favourite bears and monkeys and turtles when most of her furry friends will inevitably end up behind her toy chest or under her dresser by the time the sun rises the next morning.

but the nocturnal behaviour i find most disturbing is my two-year-old's penchant for quietly sneaking into the living room around one a.m. every morning while i'm focused on the monitor only to scare the living bejeezus out of me when she reaches out to touch my elbow.

whenever i hear this modern version of the popular stairsteps classic (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j919HoaUTfY), i am immediately reminded of this lesser-known but equally brilliant number (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFZCkRy22KY) from the greatest band of all time... and notice how the images in both videos are expertly used to complement the ambience created by the music and lyrics

just north of the village

as i was driving home along spadina avenue yesterday afternoon, i noticed a tiny, brown squirrel dart out in front of my honda. i slowed down a little so as not to add to my guilty conscience but unfortunately for our furry friend, the grey mercedes moving in the opposite direction wasn't quite so forgiving. the squirrel got thumped by both the front and rear tires of the german wundercar and was left for dead in the middle of the road. my first reaction was one of sadness, especially as i glanced at the tiny, outstretched paws of the happy-go-lucky critter pointing to the sky as if he were inviting himself into heaven. so i began to think about how fragile life is, for both humans and for all of g-d's other creatures, and it made me wonder. it made me wonder about that tiny little squirrel and the decision that led to the last moments of his brief existence on earth. and how his life could have progressed in an entirely different direction if only he had made another choice yesterday, on spadina avenue, just north of the village.

although i usually tend to prefer the original artist and recording (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVd2x0EpnYA&feature=related) to the remake (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pj3vXkhqszE), i think the female lead makes all the difference on this one - and check out the cd box cover in letterman's hand which i seem to recall was par for the course back in 1988 when i was gigging at the now-defunct sam the record man at yonge and st. clair... and doesn't the liverpudlian lead singer on the original here remind you of a certain ex-lead guitarist from another bombastic british band

and all the roads we have to walk are winding
and all the lights that lead us there are blinding
there are many things that i would like to say to you
but i don't know how

- wonderwall (1995)

p.s. uh, thanks for pointing out my grammatical errors... i think. quite frankly, i can't believe i allowed such a flagrant blunder to make it to print. either my eyewear prescription needs an update or early senility is starting to set in. now as for your comments regarding the use of the word and at the beginning of a sentence...

not a political post

if this past weekend has taught us anything, it is this: there are usually three sides to every story - your side, my side, and the truth, which often, but not always, lies somewhere in between.

and remember, the charter guarantees us freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, but that doesn't mean that all thoughts, beliefs, opinions and expressions are necessarily intelligent or informed ones.

a wise professor once implored her students to seek out the truth through research and investigation and to rely upon reason and common sense when attempting to interpret the myriad of evidence they will encounter in the course of that journey for truth.

just to lighten things up a little: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pm5cQ58rADY (and have you ever noticed that you rarely, if ever, enjoy a song the first time you hear it... well, this number is the exception to the rule, at least for me)

"if you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything." - mark twain

what grade is this again?

my seven-year-old daughter brought home her first-ever year-end report card this afternoon and i must say that i was rather impressed with most of her grades. that said, the report contained a number of "interesting" comments from her home form teacher along with some even more interesting curriculum titles that i just had to share with you, 'cause you know, that's what i do.

to begin with, what the hell are they teaching my kid in her grade one math class? five topic strands were listed under "mathematics" on her report card, the first three being "number sense and numeration," "measurement," and "geometry and spatial sense." ok, so far, so good. i mean, those first three subheadings do seem a little pretentious to my ears, but at least they still kinda make sense in the context of a math program, i suppose. but then things take a definite turn towards the bizarre. the fourth and fifth strands of her three-times-a-week-at-thirty-seven-minutes-a-pop math lesson? why, it's none other than "patterning and algebra" and "data management and probabilities." excuse me? did you say algebra? and data management? and probabilities? uh, what is this? a grade one math class in tdsb or a first-year financial analysis and risk management course at waterloo? the funny thing is that i've helped my daughter with her math homework on many an occasion this past year and i don't ever recall coming across any algebra or data management or probabilities questions in her notes. how many striped eggs can you see in the basket? that, i seem to recall. but algebra or data management or probabilities? not that i can remember. oh wait, i can see it now: "alright children, please take out your pencils and your erasers and your scientific calculators and let's get ready for our pop quiz."

moving on, it is rather obvious that elementary school teachers, not unlike high school teachers, are forced to rely upon a huge computer database of largely generic comments when preparing their report cards. to wit, like most her age, my first-born is still struggling with her portraits and landscapes, so when i read that "seven thoughtfully looks at her own art and the art of others, and talks about what she sees and feels", i was left scratching my head a little. and when i read that "seven can effectively kick and throw objects in different ways" and "seven can also effectively discuss ways of avoiding injury when playing," i must say that i was rather intrigued by whatever it is that she has been learning in her health and phys ed class these past nine months. i mean, exactly how many different ways can a seven-year-old kick and throw an object anyway? and why the focus on discussing ways of avoiding injury in gym class? after all, these kids are seven years old. hell, my daughter can injure herself just thinking about playing floor hockey.

and finally, seven's teacher certainly saved her most telling observations for the learning skills summary at the end of the report. now this year has been a challenge at times for seven's mother and me as we have heard occasional reports of behavioral issues from seven's teachers and classmates. so i wasn't entirely surprised to read that "seven continues to need reminders to avoid socializing and focus on her work."

but then i was reminded of how, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, i was advised by one of my many physicians that i exhibited all of the signs and symptoms of someone suffering from adhd. i even remember the general tone of the doctor-patient dialogue that day. "have you ever been diagnosed with adhd?" my doc asked me. uh, i don't think so, i replied. "well, based on all of the evidence before me, you may want to consider treatment for the disorder," he continued. um, just so we're clear, doc, are you suggesting that my symptoms indicate i suffered from adhd when i was a kid? "no, i am suggesting that you may be suffering from adhd, like, today. like, right now." i never did seek treatment for my condition, and as most of you can attest, i am rarely late or forgetful or disorganized or unfocused, so i guess we can put that diagnosis aside for the time being.

getting back to my daughter then, the fact that one of her teachers has noted that she may have trouble staying on task doesn't really bother me all that much, to be honest. quite frankly, i have always said that if you can sit through a one-hour geography seminar or accounting lecture and not feel a tad restless or fidgety at times, well in that case, there may be something wrong with you. hey, the kid is seven. so she likes to socialize a little. that's a good thing, isn't it? i mean, maybe not in the middle of a spelling test or silent reading time, but still...

hey, this is how i learned my parts of speech when i was a kid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWYmEICNgOQ&feature=related

"my report card always said, 'jim finishes first and then disrupts the other students.'" - jim carrey

that was my last political post

that was absolutely, positively the last political entry i will ever post.

it takes too much out of me.

besides, i would rather present interesting film quotes like the following:

"you know, when i was nineteen, grandpa took me on a roller coaster... i always wanted to go again. you know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! some didn't like it. they went on the merry-go-round. that just goes around. nothing. i like the roller coaster. you get more out of it." - parenthood (1989)

and inspiring youtube music links like the following: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PivWY9wn5ps

p.s. uh, what's a splur?

only a few broken windows

as i sat on my living room couch last evening watching the so-called g20 protesters tear a swath of destruction through my city, i couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger at the wanton violence being perpetrated against so many innocent property owners who call toronto their home. and then, this morning, as some of those demonstrators milled about outside the makeshift detention centre set up by police on eastern avenue, my blood really began to boil as two of the young revolutionaries in attendance stepped up to the microphone for an impromptu press conference with the assembled media. at one point one of them was asked how she felt about the number of individuals who had been arrested or detained during the previous night's mayhem, to which she replied: "the police response does seem a little excessive, especially given that there were only a few broken windows left behind." a few broken windows? to her, a historic day which saw shattered storefronts, looted shops, spray-painted walls, torched police cruisers, bricks and bottles and poles and golf balls tossed at officers, and general lawlessness throughout much of the downtown core, to her all of that senseless brutality came down to a few broken windows?

the young lady before the microphone also implied that only a couple of businesses had actually been hit by vandals yesterday, most were multinational franchises, and that the media was deliberately exaggerating the level of violence by looping video images of the "few" stores that were affected. i guess if you tell a lie often enough, folks will begin to believe it: http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/article/831506--store-owners-defiant-after-property-damaged-during-g20-riot

now when you examine the television images of the legitimate protesters out and about saturday afternoon prior to the mindless hooliganism that followed, you couldn't help but notice the number of placards and banners featuring striking images of communist pin-up boys mao zedong and josef stalin positioned above slogans in support of marxist-leninist ideology. (conversely, the anarchist mob largely responsible for saturday's mischief carry few, if any, political aspirations as most decent, card-carrying anarchists would never dream of getting involved in the mainstream political process given their general distrust of government authority.)

as for the wannabe comrades who withstood the rain to make their voices heard in a mostly peaceful rally along queen street and beyond, the question arises as to just how relevant their political beliefs are in modern-day canada. so i decided to review the results of the 2006 federal general election to satisfy my curiosity. (in case you were wondering, i couldn't locate any detailed online results from the 2008 national election.) you may be surprised to learn that in the 2006 vote, both the communist party of canada (?) and the marxist-leninist party of canada (???) offered up candidates in a number of jurisdictions across the country.

now because most of you reading this blog call the trinity-spadina riding your home, i thought you might be interested in hearing how our communist friends fared in terms of popular support way back in january of '06. unfortunately, the communist party of canada chose not to run a candidate in your electoral district at that time, presumably due to lack of interest or finances or both. but the marxist-leninist party did, in fact, offer up one of their own for your consideration four years ago. keep in mind that any citizen residing within your electoral district at that time was free to exercise their constitutional rights (section three anyone?) and throw their unconditional support behind nick l., proud representative of the marxist-leninist party of canada. unfortunately for nick though, only 138 of the more than 62,000 votes cast in the riding that evening appeared to endorse his party's principles and philosophies. in layman's terms, that means that approximately one out of every 449 voters felt confident enough in the platform presented by the marxist-leninist party of canada so as to pencil in an "x" in the appropriate box. what does this say then about the protesters holding images of mao and stalin who attempted to espouse their views yesterday in the streets of downtown toronto? what it says is this: they have almost no support from the general public. zero. zip. nil. nada.

so to summarize then: the anarchist thugs responsible for precipitating a few broken windows over the past twenty-four hours are not even interested in participating in the honest exchange of ideas and opinions known as the democratic process, while the communist apologists who took part in yesterday's demonstrations have been told again and again by the canadian electorate that their principles are not welcome in this nation. given that context, the violence and devastation wrought by many of those individuals yesterday almost begins to make sense, doesn't it? at least to them, i mean.

i promise that if you just give it a chance it will grow on you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjPDayIh08s

"it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except for all the others that have been tried." - winston churchill

what's the deal with the chicks and the cheques?

so there i am at metro earlier today and i'm standing in line awaiting my turn to pay for my groceries and then i notice that the cashier tells the customer in front of me that she owes, like, $18.49 or some random figure like that but the customer hasn't even opened up her purse yet to locate her wallet so that she can pay for her stuff. and then i started thinking to myself that if it had been me standing there and the cashier had told me that i owed, like, $18.49 or some random figure like that, well, i would have already had my debit card in hand and i would be, like, "here you go, ma'am." and while all this is going on in my head, the customer is struggling to remember her personal identification number and so now i'm thinking that if it had been me standing there about to enter my personal identification number into that debit card machine, well, i would have already rehearsed my pin a few dozen times in my head so that when the time came i could enter my password without any hesitation. and while all this is going on in my head, the customer is fumbling to put her debit card back into her wallet and so now i'm thinking that if it had been me standing there about to accept my debit card from the cashier, well, i would have already had my wallet wide open so that i could shove that card back into the sleeve. and while all this is going on in my head, the customer is busy rearranging the groceries inside her plastic bags and so now i'm thinking that if it had been me standing there about to depart with my groceries, well, i would have trusted the professionalism of the cashier to correctly place those groceries inside my bags and then be on my way. but that's just me.

you see, standing in line at the supermarket is a lot like life in that some folks are prepared for what's about to come next and some folks ain't.

"you worry too much, kid. you always did." - anonymous

in honour of today's senseless mayhem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQkActP-isE

p.s. you must realize by now that the vast majority of my posts are delivered with tongue planted firmly in cheek. that said, nowhere in my piece do i imply that i expect others to be like me. and you knew that anyway. but i appreciate your kind words when you suggest that i am one of a kind.

if i had a million dollars

tonight's lotto max jackpot is expected to reach an estimated $50 million. that is one of the largest prizes ever awarded in the history of canadian lotteries. the frenzy surrounding tonight's draw reminds me of a conversation that would take place every time a sizeable lottery prize was up for grabs when i was younger and living with my mother after my parents split up.

starting from the time i was seventeen, my mom and i used to play a game. the game would consist of my mother telling me what she would do with her prize money in the unlikely event that she won the lottery.

she would usually begin by mentioning all of her family members that would receive a portion of the payout. "my brother --- would get a million, my sister --- would get a million, my sister ------- would get a million, my sister ----- would get a million, your brother --- would get a million, and i would give you five million," she would inevitably decide. to explain, i was always my mother's favourite and she rarely made any attempt to hide that truth. she would rationalize her flagrant favouritism by referring to the fact that my older brother was clearly the preferred child of my father, as my old man similarly made little or no effort to conceal that particular detail. (for the record, such schisms often made for a tense household, but i digress.)

next, my mother would rhyme off all of the material goods she would purchase with her remaining hypothetical lottery winnings. "i would buy a new car and a new television and a new dining room table and a new house so that you and i could have more space." i should mention that when i first moved in with my mother following the breakup of her marriage, she and i were living in a small, crappy, two-bedroom apartment near bathurst and steeles. my mother hated that place and always vowed that one day, she would earn enough to afford a huge, palatial estate north of the city. (years later, my mother would become one of the leading real estate agents in the city and while she never ultimately purchased that "palatial estate" she had been dreaming of, she did earn enough to put her youngest child through law school.)

finally, my mother would rattle off a checklist of local charities that would receive a portion of her lottery windfall in case she ever took home the big prize. given her experiences up to that point in her life, most of the organizations on that roll call were either nearby hospitals or research foundations.

anyhow, i am reminded of these mostly fond memories from my past as today, i caught myself musing over what i would do if i won the $50 million jackpot currently on the table.

by the way, i have never actually purchased a lottery ticket. ever.

in a perfect world, she would have been bigger than madonna: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=202o_JS7E04

"you can only become truly accomplished at something you love. don't make money your goal. instead pursue the things you love doing, and then do them so well that people can't take their eyes off you." - maya angelou

dieting for dummies

so today, at the doctor's office, i decided to weigh myself on one of those - what do you call them - one of those, uh, doctor scales. and i must admit, i was a little surprised by the results. apparently, i've gained about 10 pounds since the last time i was in the doctor's office and weighed myself on one of those - what do you call them - one of those, uh, doctor scales. ten pounds! that is not a negligible figure. no, quite the contrary. that is a sizeable figure. that is a significant figure. that, my dear, is a lot of pasta.

but here's the problem: i don't like to exercise. i don't like to go to the gym. i don't like to sweat in public.

and here's the other problem: i like junk food. i like fast food. i like food.

yet looking back on my own experiences and those of others, i think i know why most diet plans and exercise regimens inevitably end in failure. most diets and regimens end in failure because most diets and regimens are very hard to follow for the average man, what with all that talk about carbs and calories and cholesterol and reps and sets and super sets.

and so, as a public service, i now present my highly unscientific but easy-to-understand tips on how to lose weight without exercising or giving up food, if you're feeling so inclined:

one, don't eat a thing past seven pm. if you want to lose weight, you have to give your metabolism a chance to metabolize all of that crap you've digested over the course of the day. and you don't have to be a genius to figure out that when you go to sleep at night, your metabolism partly goes to sleep as well. translation? when you snack late at night, the food that you consume during your midnight sojourn to the icebox will probably sit in your belly all night long. that can't be good. and food that isn't metabolized is more than likely going to end up as excess weight. that can't be good either.

two, stay the hell away from salt. salt in small quantities is not necessarily harmful, but increase your sodium intake too much and watch out, baby. potato chips... bad. french fries... bad. canned soup... bad. sea salt. table salt. salt-n-pepa. bad. bad. bad. salt is evil. salt is the enemy. salt holds water. and water is heavy. so if you don't want to be heavy, rid yourself of salt. boo salt.

three, even though i previously stated that you wouldn't have to give up food in order to lose weight under my plan, the truth is that you can't eat like a horse and still expect to shed pounds. so instead of eight slices of pepperoni pizza, why not have, say, only three or four? instead of twelve eggs in your morning omelette, why not have, say, only five or six? instead of two to four servings of brown rice at supper time, why not have, say, only one or two? you'll feel better knowing that you still have room in your stomach for dessert and you'll go to bed feeling satisfied without feeling bloated. and really, who wants to feel bloated anyway?

and finally, regardless of what i said near the end of point three above, if you really want to lose weight, you can never have another dessert for as long as you shall live. besides, dessert is entirely unnecessary and highly overrated in the first place. what exactly does dessert bring to the table anyhow? dessert is gooey and messy and requires a whole new set of cutlery. i say forget about dessert and instead, have another appetizer. appetizers are light and breezy and fun to be around. in fact, desserts don't even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as appetizers, so let's not fall into that trap.

ok, that's it. your diet plan is now complete. let's review then. one, stay out of the kitchen after hours. two, avoid salt like it's the plague. three, remember that you have one stomach, not four. and finally, desserts should never be mistaken for a good spring roll or mini quiche.

good luck and may you always be guided by the voice of reason and common sense. i know i am.

** please note that the preceding opinions are solely those of the individual blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of blogspot or any of its affiliates or sponsors **

shakespeare got it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSUBeyp4I-Q

"people are like stained-glass windows. they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within." - elisabeth kubler-ross

p.s. thank you, anonymous daily blogger. whoever you are.

running up that hill

i'm bored. i need a new challenge. i think i'll start jogging. i used to be a good athlete in school. i ran track. i did hurdles. i played volleyball. but maybe i'm too old. my knees are bad. my back's a mess. nah, i've still got it in me. i'll just get me a new pair of sneakers. gotta be extra wide though. i can start on saturday. i'll run before the kids wake up. like at six. or maybe seven. ok, maybe eight. and i'll start out slow. maybe only a kilometre or two at first. build up my stamina. before long, i'll be running marathons. and triathlons. might have to work on my front crawl though. but i can worry about that later. for now i'll just focus on saturday morning. at six. i mean eight.

hopefully i won't be running on empty for too long: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJYRtOPUonA&feature=related

"that day, for no particular reason, i decided to go for a little run. so i ran to the end of the road. and when i got there, i thought maybe i'd run to the end of town. and when i got there, i thought maybe i'd just run across greenbow county. and i figured, since i run this far, maybe i'd just run across the great state of alabama. and that's what i did. i ran clear across alabama. and for no particular reason i just kept on going. i ran clear to the ocean. and when i got there, i figured, since i'd gone this far, i might as well turn around, just keep on going. when i got to another ocean, i figured, since i'd gone this far, i might as well just turn back, keep right on going." - forrest gump (1994)

solitaire

my seven-year-old daughter is one of only two girls on her t-ball team. tonight, before the final game of the season, the league hosted an outdoor banquet where food and drinks were served to the players and their parents. seven's best friend on the team, the only other girl on the squad, was late arriving for the banquet. just before the food was served, i noticed that my daughter was looking around for someone to play with. unfortunately, the boys from her team didn't seem very interested in spending time with her. they were more interested in doing whatever it is that seven-year-old boys do. seven's mother was helping out with the food service while i was busy keeping an eye on my two-year-old at the playground. as a result, when seven finally sat down to enjoy her pizza and soda, she was all alone. seven found an empty spot on a small hill near the baseball diamond. when i looked over to see what she was up to, i couldn't help but take notice of her solitude. and i don't know why but it absolutely broke my heart to see my kid seated on the side of that hill all by herself, eating her pizza and pretending not to notice all the other kids laughing and screaming and playing around her. now this may be difficult for some of you to understand but when my kid feels sad or lonely or disappointed, i feel it too. and it probably hurts me more than it hurts her because i am old enough to realize that this is not the last time that she is going to feel that way and there is absolutely nothing i can do to stop it from happening again. eventually i sauntered on over to my seven-year-old to keep her company while she finished her meal. at one point during our sitdown i asked her why she was eating alone. her reply: "sometimes i like to be by myself, dad." i certainly know my daughter well enough to know when she is telling a fib. and the fact that she was trying to hide her loneliness by putting on a brave face made me feel even worse. but what could i do?

what the hell was that?

wow! my first earthquake!

p.s. to clarify: second earthquake experienced, first earthquake felt in toronto.

these are the abc's of me, baby

the other day i found myself engaged in an in-depth conversation with several of my adult acquaintances. okay, so maybe there were only three of us. and keep in mind as you read the following that these were hardly my closest amigos by any stretch but rather just a few casual associates sitting down for a bite to eat and a little table talk. at first the discussion centred on the topic of weekends at the cottage. yet due to my lengthy repertoire of warm weather allergies, i must admit that i have never actually owned or rented a cottage nor am i particularly interested in spending any of my upcoming weekends at one. as a result, i was unable to add much of consequence to that particular dialogue. later, the conversation shifted to a profound deliberation on the pros and cons of backyard gardening. yet once again, i was unable to provide much in the way of insight as i have absolutely no desire to study the differences between evergreen and deciduous plants. and then, sitting there, it suddenly dawned on me: i have almost nothing in common with the vast majority of the adult world.

and so at that moment, in desperation, i undertook to make a concerted effort to "fit in" to the sophisticated nature of the conversation before me. yet within minutes, i had resigned myself to the fact that i just wasn't interested in mature exchanges on subject matter as trifling as mortgage rates and muffin recipes and patio chairs.

short on alternatives, next i did what any level-headed individual would have done in my circumstances: i gave up. i gave up in my attempts to impress my grownup acquaintances with my extensive knowledge of cottage hot spots and gardening tools and whatever else it is that middle-aged men and women discuss around the barbecue or by the pool or at the country club. and instead... instead i decided to move the conversation a little bit closer to my own comfort zone - closer to the topics and themes that i enjoy debating. and so i began with my lament over the fact that i missed last week's $1 flip-flop sale at old navy. (blank stares.) and that was followed up with a sizzling analysis of the hypocrisy demonstrated by kristen on the hills when she dissed brody's new girlfriend after explicitly permitting him to see other women. (more blank stares.) and how could i not bring up katy perry's recent video for "california gurls" and all of those not-so-subtle double entendres that fill the screen? (even more blank stares.) and how toopy and binoo is perhaps the most brilliantly subversive children's cartoon to air since the flintstones. and how gutterball on miniclip.com is far and away the dopest bowling simulation in the history of online gaming. and how it always makes sense to order the cheapest beverage size at mcdonald's because of their free refill policy. (blank stares. blank stares. blank stares.)

in conclusion then, i suppose that the moral of the story is this: if you must grow up and you still wish to be entertaining at dinner parties, maybe you'd better learn how to plant a few azaleas.

"age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone." - jim fiebig

same title, but not the jay-z (nee alphaville) number you're familiar with: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGEe_zpddNI

constitutional law 101

so i read with some interest on the ctv website a few minutes ago how the first protests of the upcoming g20 summit unfolded this afternoon without incident in downtown toronto. no surprises there. but what really caught my attention was one of the more frequent accusations levelled by participants at today's demonstration. apparently, according to at least some of those assembled for today's march, the canadian government is essentially in control of a "police state." that is certainly a rather strong term to employ when describing the democratically-elected representatives of our young federation. now i fully recognize the right of protesters to express their opinions via the instrument of peaceful demonstrations. indeed, sections two (b) and (c) of the canadian charter of rights and freedoms guarantees individuals those constitutionally-protected fundamental freedoms. but it is those same fundamental freedoms that i rely upon now to voice my vigorous opposition to the views expressed by protesters in toronto earlier today. and so, i would just like to respond by saying that to suggest canada is being governed as a "police state" is an insult to genuine police states everywhere.

to begin with, freedictionary.com defines a police state as "a state in which the government exercises rigid and repressive controls over the social, economic, and political life of the people, especially by means of a secret police force." secret police force? in canada? now if by "secret" police force you mean "invisible" police force, then perhaps we have something to discuss. but let me ask you this: how often do you come across a peace officer or a police cruiser in your daily travels? speaking personally, if i bump into more than one copper a month then it's been an unusually active month in terms of policing within my community.

to be precise, i have had the police inside my home on exactly two occasions over the past thirty years. on one of those occasions, the officer in question was actually invited into my home by yours truly as my wife had just gone into labour and we required the services of a police escort in order to deliver the mother-to-be to the hospital in time. on the lone other occasion, i had contacted the police because my oddball neighbour had gone apoplectic after learning that i had asked her adolescent children to stop throwing dead flowers onto my balcony. it's a complicated story but the long and the short of it is this: the officers came to my condo, jotted down the details of my complaint and then went off on their merry way. pleasant and accommodating yes, but hardly rigid or repressive in their treatment of me.

now compare the current situation in canada to that in, say, iran. according to human rights watch, an internationally respected human rights ngo, "iran’s government is tightening its grip, harassing, imprisoning, and using violence against its own people one year after the disputed 2009 presidential election and the start of its brutal crackdown." does this really sound like canada to you? of course, it doesn't.

human rights watch also cites the humanitarian crisis unfolding in the democratic people's republic of korea in their 2010 world report by stating: "...human rights conditions in north korea remain dire. there is no organized political opposition, free media, functioning civil society, or religious freedom. arbitrary arrest, detention, and torture and ill-treatment of detainees, and lack of due process remain serious issues. north korea operates detention facilities including those popularly known as "political prison camps" where hundreds of thousands of its citizens - including children - are enslaved in deplorable conditions for various anti-state offenses... periodically, the government publicly executes citizens for stealing state property, hoarding food and other "anti-socialist" crimes." does this really sound like canada to you? of course, it doesn't.

and let's not forget about that favoured vacation hot spot for law-abiding canadians from coast to coast. so what did human rights watch have to say about that post-fidel workers' paradise known as cuba: "as the new head of state, raúl castro [fidel's brother] inherited a system of abusive laws and institutions, as well as responsibility for hundreds of political prisoners arrested during his brother’s rule. rather than dismantle this repressive machinery, raúl castro has kept it firmly in place and fully active. scores of political prisoners arrested under fidel castro continue to languish in cuba’s prisons. and raúl castro’s government has used draconian laws and sham trials to incarcerate scores more who have dared to exercise their fundamental freedoms. raúl castro’s government has relied in particular on a provision of the cuban criminal code that allows the state to imprison individuals before they have committed a crime, on the suspicion that they might commit an offense in the future. this “dangerousness” provision is overtly political, defining as “dangerous” any behavior that contradicts socialist norms. the most orwellian of cuba’s laws, it captures the essence of the cuban government’s repressive mindset, which views anyone who acts out of step with the government as a potential threat and thus worthy of punishment." does this really sound like canada to you? of course, it doesn't.

and yet protesters in toronto for the g20 summit feel compelled to label the canadian government a "police state"? so what's my beef then? well, most of these protesters would probably describe themselves as human rights advocates. but if you're a human rights advocate, then by definition, you must advocate on behalf of the fundamental rights and freedoms of all humans, not just those in select regions of the world. yet how many of the anti-corporate, anti-capitalist, anti-globalization protesters in the streets of toronto today do you reckon have ever attended a rally protesting the treatment of journalists in iran or political prisoners in north korea or union organizers in cuba? hmmm. at the very least, i'd be willing to bet that none of today's protesters has ever marched through the streets of tehran or pyongyang or havana criticizing human rights abuses in those countries as residents there lack the basic right to demonstrate peacefully - a freedom afforded to them, somewhat ironically, by only truly democratic nations like, say, canada. and yet they have the nerve to indirectly compare the democratic regime of this nation to those of iran and north korea and cuba! shameful. in the end, it all comes down to the credibility of the protesters' claims and the credibility of the protesters themselves. that said, the constitution of canada guarantees even fools the right to express their thoughts and opinions, misinformed as they may be, by way of mass media and peaceful assembly, inter alia. what a great country it is indeed.

"it is easy to take liberty for granted when you have never had it taken from you." - m. grundler

p.s. a fair criticism does not take the form of "i disagree." in order for your critiques to have any weight with me, you must complete the following sentence: "i disagree with you because..."

talk to me

out for a walk this morning, i spotted an elderly woman seated in a wheelchair on the driveway in front of her home. to her side was a young lady, most likely her caregiver, kneeling in front of her. the elderly woman was probably in her eighties or nineties. she seemed frail. she was trembling. her eyes were barely open. her lips were moving though. maybe she was trying to speak to her caregiver. or maybe she was singing quietly to herself. i was too far away to hear anything. and then, just as i was about to move on, i noticed something that caused me to linger for a few seconds longer: the young nurse was holding the elderly woman's hand. and i'm not sure why, but the sight of those two women - one youthful and energetic, the other aged and decrepit - joined hand in hand made me smile. for at the risk of sounding presumptuous, i began to think about all of the circumstances that led up to this stage in my elderly neighbour's life. and how, nearing the end of a very long life, she will probably spend her final few moments under the care of a woman who likely grew up halfway around the globe. and how fate or kismet or whatever you want to call it had somehow brought this unlikely duo together to hopefully enjoy a few more moments of happiness.

"i think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it's not the answer." - jim carrey

the song playing over the p.a. when i sauntered into the gap at the promenade mall today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRMBlFGtVJw&feature=fvsr

damn birds

so i took seven to centre island today to watch the boat races.

now i could talk about the fact that just about every single person under forty riding the subway this morning was busy tuning out the world thanks to their ipods. (music was intended to bring us together, people, not isolate us from one another.)

or i could talk about the fact that i was greeted at the docks by a phalanx of asian seniors handing out placards denouncing the chinese government for their treatment of the falun gong. (hey, i don't support repressive communist regimes, either.)

or i could talk about the fact that it rained for about eight minutes on the island this afternoon even though the forecast called for overcast skies and thunderstorms all day. (why don't meteorologists just admit that their "science" isn't really a science at all. you wanna know tomorrow's weather: open the window... tomorrow.)

or i could talk about the fact that while on the island, i witnessed a second-rate local band perform a third-rate version of genesis' "that's all." (i hate it when a so-called "tribute band" needlessly butchers a timeless classic from perhaps the greatest progressive rock band of all time.)

or i could talk about the fact that i saw at least three passengers smoking on the ferry today even though there was a sign clearly posted prohibiting smoking on the boat. (did i mention that one of the persons lighting up was actually a member of the ship's crew?)

or i could talk about the fact that a large pepperoni pizza on the island goes for more than $22 these days. (you do realize that we're talking about cheese and bread and a little sauce, don't you?)

or i could talk about the fact that the boat crew from my current high school was racing in the lane immediately adjacent to the boat crew from my high school alma mater. (neither team won, but still, what are the odds?)

or i could talk about the fact that for maybe the 30th time since the release of titanic, i was forced to look on today as an amorous middle-aged doofus and his lady friend attempted to reenact the famous scene from the 1997 james cameron masterpiece where jack stands behind rose at the bow of the doomed ship before shouting, "i'm the king of the world." (uh, no. no you're not, doofus. and besides, jack didn't actually utter the "king of the world" line during that scene.)

but instead, instead i would like to talk about the fact that today, on the island, a giant seagull made off with my $5 hot dog while i wasn't paying attention.



um... today, on the island, a giant seagull made off with my $5 hot dog while i wasn't paying attention.

the way it's supposed to sound: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BR-ixnPtxU8&feature=related

take two aspirin and call me in the morning

my head is killing me. no, really. my head is absolutely killing me. you see, i've been suffering through a particularly nasty headache going on eight hours now. and i've already tried everything within my arsenal of tricks to relieve the mind-numbing pain but alas... to no avail. i've taken a nap. nothing. i've had something to eat. nothing. i've downed a coke, figuring that a lack of sugar and caffeine may just be the source of my cranial discomfort. nothing. i've even sat through a forty-minute, steaming hot shower, with the shower head set to pulsate, but still... nothing. normally, i would have begun to experience at least some sense of relief after administering the preceding set of remedies. yet tonight's soreness seems rather unique in that it has so far managed to elude conventional therapies. jeez, i really hope this pain i speak of is nothing more than a standard, garden-variety, run-of-the-mill headache. i would hate to think that it could be anything more than that. uh-oh. my mind is starting to wander a little. my imagination is beginning to play tricks on me. my collective consciousness is slowly getting the better of my rational self. flashback. flashback. ok, so when i was eight, i noticed a huge lump on my forehead. so i pointed it out to my mother and she was, like, "uh-oh. that doesn't look good." and i was, like, what do you mean, that doesn't look good? and more to the point, what do you mean, uh-oh? and so we made a beeline for the hospital where my mother demanded that the e.r. doctors provide me with an x-ray. and after much cajoling on my mother's part, the e.r. doctors finally relented and put me under the x-ray machine. and when the results were in, the doctors pulled my mother aside and delivered the bad news: "ma'am, that lump on your son's forehead... that lump... is his skull." ok, so i managed to dodge a bullet that day, but still...

you never know: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stRWtrmXkHo

"waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. or waiting around for friday night or waiting perhaps for their uncle jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. everyone is just waiting." - dr. seuss

excuse me waiter but there's a hair in my soup

so what if i found a loose hair on my mcdonald's cheeseburger the other day? i mean, it's not as if it was ground into the beef or anything like that. and once detected, i was able to easily take hold of the single blond strand between my thumb and forefinger and pluck it from my slightly undercooked patty. problem solved. so what's the big deal? my dining partner at the time urged me to request a replacement burger. a replacement burger? my slightly undercooked burger wasn't the problem. the hair was the problem. and once the hair was no more, there was no more problem with the hair. jeez.

and while i'm on the subject, what exactly is the big fuss about finding a hair in one's food anyway? after all, the hair on my cheeseburger was most definitely a human hair. hey, we all belong to the same species, don't we? and the hair certainly appeared clean enough. i mean, it was shiny and lustrous and all that. and do you really think there were more germs on that hair than on the kitchen counter top where that hair and my burger first joined forces? i mean, c'mon now people. give your head a shake.

alright, now rather than a loose human hair, let's pretend that i had found... let's pretend i had found, say, a couple of mouse droppings on my burger the other day. now if that had been the case, chances are i would have most likely asked for that replacement burger. or perhaps i may have even passed on the replacement burger and demanded a full refund in lieu of a replacement burger. but that wasn't the case. no, i found a blond, detachable hair on my burger the other day. a clean hair. a human hair. that was the scenario i was faced with. those were the circumstances i was forced to confront.

"live a little, kids." - oise mentor

this should make the hair stand up on the back of your neck, assuming you have hair on the back of your neck: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8c7x2JD_j-0

p.s. grammar alert! grammar alert! can anyone spot the dangling participle in the first paragraph?

help me, help you... or how you can sum up a man's life with a $1.99 delete bin video from bmv

"i hated myself... no, i hated my place in the world." - jerry maguire (1996)

perhaps the only film that truly speaks to the essence of who i am is the motion picture classic jerry maguire. when a film (or a book) speaks to the essence of who you are, you often find yourself nodding in agreement at the screen (or the pages) while muttering, "yes. i understand that. that is so real. that is so true." such is the case with jerry maguire and me. the film was released in 1996 which was just about the time that i made the decision to leave my former career as a lawyer. over the years, many of my students have said to me, "hey sir. how come you stopped being a lawyer?" in hindsight, the best response to that query would have simply been: "just watch jerry maguire and you'll understand."

jerry maguire tells the story of a middle-aged sports agent played by tom cruise who, after suffering a crisis of conscience, is determined to carry on business in a manner more in tune with his newfound attitude towards life and relationships. "personal attention to others" and "behaving with integrity" become jerry's new catchphrases as he slowly learns that his sudden epiphany may run counter to the venerable rules and norms of modern society. more than anything though, jerry maguire tells the story of a man approaching a series of crossroads in both his personal and professional lives - what hollywood terms a "fork in the road" and what i have previously referred to as "moments," moments when important decisions must be made as to how to proceed in one's life.

in his first major decision, or moment, jerry elects to devote more attention to a reduced client roll in order to lend a personal touch which will hopefully provide him with a clearer perspective as to what is best for those he chooses to represent.

later, jerry is forced to choose between the lone client who has consistently shown allegiance to him and a roster full of athletes whose dedication seems to depend on nothing more than the size of their paycheques.

finally, jerry must decide between the safety and simplicity of bachelor life versus the concern and commitment necessary to maintain a healthy long-term relationship.

for me the film has always spoken to a need in my own life to be more productive in a manner that actually contributes something of importance to the greater good. as a lawyer, i always felt as though my skills were at the risk of being exploited by those in positions of authority so as to maintain their hold on power. and quite frankly, because so many of the powerful persons that i dealt with, indeed that i represented, were so unworthy of their standing and influence within the community, i concluded that i no longer wished to be a part of that status quo. instead, i determined that i preferred to be part of a system where i could encourage others to confront that system, and ultimately break down that system, but only so that they could subsequently rebuild that system in their own image.

and so it is jerry maguire that gives voice to those aspirations - to the spirit of contemplation and reformation and ultimately, progression. but jerry is not so much the voice of change as he is the agent of change for an even greater movement inspired by him. indeed as the film comes to an end, jerry's former clients are seen quizzing their agents as to why they can't be more like jerry in terms of their personal commitment to their clientele.

whenever i watch jerry maguire, i am reminded of the reasons i left the legal profession and what i promised myself i would attempt to do if i ever had the opportunity to make a difference in the grander scheme of things. and while that promise has yet to be fulfilled in my estimation, the journey towards that destination is well underway while the path thereto is gradually beginning to look a lot less cluttered.

and just as holden caulfield, the hypocritical self-loathing cynic from the catcher in the rye, could only experience true happiness in a glimpse of his younger sister's playful innocence (phoebe on the carousel), the closing moments of jerry maguire portray the titular protagonist finally achieving a sense of inner peace at the sight of his son expertly tossing a baseball during a leisurely stroll through the park with his family.

it is that scene, and that moment, which ultimately defines the metamorphosis that jerry maguire has undergone, for it is only then that jerry truly understands happiness lies not in a fat paycheque or a super bowl ring but rather in the smile that an eight-year-old kid can bring to his mother's face with the simple toss of a ball.

the true face of loyalty, the true face of jerry maguire: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTFJocQBLyE

didn't see a thing

early this morning i had to dash across the road in order to pick up a few items from metro before work. as i was making my way through the ground floor lobby of my building, i unintentionally startled the twenty something concierge working the graveyard shift behind the counter. it appears that the after hours inactivity of the position may have gotten the better of our crack overnight watchman as he had been sound asleep at his post, sprawled out in his big, comfy chair. but when i tiptoed by the front desk in a futile attempt to avoid waking our trusty sentry from his sunrise snooze, lookout boy suddenly came to, then proceeded to hem and haw as the blood began to rush to his face. "uh, i was just resting my eyes," he pleaded. not a big deal, i replied. "i wasn't asleep or anything, just so you know." no, really. i completely understand. he was obviously embarrassed (as was i) and perhaps even a tad fearful that his job might somehow be in jeopardy if news of his late night slumber ever found its way to the condominium's almighty board of directors.

more importantly, this morning's episode got me thinking about all of those other potentially awkward situations that we stumble into over the course of our daily lives but ultimately seek to avoid so as not to cause unnecessary embarrassment to our fellow citizens.

hey, the middle-aged man sitting across from me on the yonge 97 has been picking his nose for the past half-an-hour or so as if there's a treasure chest hidden up there. uh oh. eye contact. smile. uh, didn't see a thing, sir.

hey, the old lady standing next to me in the upset stomach aisle for the past minute or so has just decided to pass a little gas my way. uh oh. eye contact. smile. uh, didn't hear a thing, ma'am.

hey, the grade nine couple with their lockers just down the hallway from my office have been joined at the lip for the past thirty seconds or so... and their technique is rather deplorable, i might add. uh oh. eye contact. smile. uh, didn't see a thing, kids.

hey, the colleague at work who's been locked in the staff washroom for the better part of an hour or so has been singing a mostly unfortunate version of "don't stop believin'." wait, the door is opening. he's coming out now. uh oh. eye contact. smile. uh, didn't hear a thing, comrade.

also not my preferred take on the journey classic, but interesting nonetheless. and call me crazy, but i'm thinking they're all the same guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIoSTbPt_PI

"have you ever gotten the feeling that you aren't completely embarrassed yet, but you can already glimpse tomorrow's embarrassment?" - jerry maguire (1996)

ninety percent... perfect

so i just got through editing my latest entry, "stir crazy," for maybe the third time since i posted it earlier today. and i can assure you that i haven't come close to finishing my work on that piece, or any of my other 106 posts, for that matter. in fact, each and every day i peruse two or three of my older posts just to see if i can locate a word or a phrase that could use some attention. hey, i'm not ashamed to admit it: i'm a perfectionist. i demand it from both myself and from others. and i have yet to come across one of my blog entries that couldn't use a little touch up here and there.

so why this obsession with perfection? well, as for myself, i would never want my name associated with a product that didn't at least attempt to meet the highest standards of quality and excellence. anything short of an honest effort to be the best one can be would be like cheating oneself. and i don't like cheaters. it's just another form of dishonesty. and i don't like dishonesty, either.

as for perfection in others, i have often found that some individuals (but not all) can only hope to reach their fullest potential when they are pushed to their limits by an outside source - that is to say, when they are pushed by another. as an example, when i was younger, i was certainly never pushed to my limits by either myself or my fellow man and the results are obviously telling. that should also explain why i have never awarded a perfect score on an oral presentation or an essay assignment in school. i would hate to think that a 16-year-old could achieve perfection so early in life. after all, once you reach perfection, where can you go from there? where is there room to grow and develop?

but i do keep striving for perfection, knowing full well that i will never attain my goal. and i hope you do, too. striving, that is.

"i don't expect you to be perfect. but i do expect you to try." - johnsview village p.s. volleyball coach

the moulin rouge equivalent of the rent number cited below, and keep in mind that both films are based on the same source material: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvJpJl04cAI

p.s. hey, if i had my druthers, i would provide a 100% year-end exam testing students on their knowledge of the hills, the burger king sandwich of the day, excel gum flavours, the world's most popular baby names, old navy t-shirt styles, male pattern baldness, the musical genius that is hillary duff, my daughters' middle names... you know, all the important things in life.

and as for your comments regarding the events of the day and my failure to cover them in the pages of my blog, all i can say is this: letterman vs. leno. seinfeld vs. raymond. friends vs. home improvement. quite frankly, i would rather discuss the loose hair i found on my mcdonald's bacon double cheeseburger than politics in the middle east or how the blue jays need another starter to be competitive this season. another place. another time. with all due respect.

stir crazy

so i'm almost finished another marathon marking session - five so far today, more than eighty in total - and i'm starting to feel the effects of too much reading and not enough down time. i have to say that it sure ain't easy concentrating on your 21st mission statement or your 43rd target market analysis or your 68th finance plan, all within the same ten day stretch. and so as i approach the end of yet another year of summatives, i am literally itching to get done so that i can move on to... while, so that i can move on to more than eighty accounting exams that have yet to be marked as the big day is not until this wednesday. and as for the itching, i'm hardly exaggerating or relying on my usual dose of hyperbole when i describe my impatience. for as i reach towards the bottom of the pile, i begin to picture the precise moment where i can finally lay down my red pen and clear my head of the year's lesson plans and essay assignments and unit tests. as i near the bottom of the attendance list, i begin to ponder the wave of relief that will soon sweep over me once that last transparent duotang is tucked away inside the cardboard box perched atop my swivel chair. as i close in on the final business proposal of the year, i begin to dream of a world without summatives where i can let down my hair (so to speak), kick off my $8 plastic sandals, pull up a chaise lounge next to our eternally-broken pool and just breathe. inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. ahhh.

the song i'm listening to as i type these words, and now officially my third favorite number from the musical, although i don't really think that roger's contribution was particularly helpful (to the song that is, as opposed to mimi's recovery): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrE7mh7Emj4&feature=related

non sequitur

while i was putting seven to bed earlier tonight, she asked if she could read a book to herself for a few minutes. pollyanna i think. she said that it helps her fall asleep. i said why not. after all, i am supposed to be encouraging literacy development amongst my offspring, ain't i? and early bedtimes. two hours later, when i re-entered her bedroom to check on her, seven was still wide awake and still reading that same book. i was even more surprised when i asked her how much she had read that evening and she replied that she was in the middle of chapter nine. chapter nine? i haven't willingly read nine chapters of a book since... well, since i was nine.

which reminds me. on friday while i was invigilating (uh, supervising) an exam at school, i couldn't help but notice the selection of books the kids are required to read in their senior english classes. the novels and plays, mostly classics, were strewn across the ledge of the classroom where i was perched for most of the exam. what amazed me though was that the titles haven't changed at all in the more than 20 years since i was required to read them as a high school student myself. titles like macbeth, catcher in the rye, great expectations, animal farm, 1984, lord of the flies, clockwork orange, the great gatsby, slaughterhouse five et al. now don't get me wrong. some of those titles represent the highest achievements in modern and traditional literature. (ok, so maybe one title stands out from the others, but the rest ain't exactly chopped liver.) but that got me thinking about what else has and hasn't changed since i was a freshman at t.s.s. in thornhill, ontario. and then it happened. when the exam had ended, and in the midst of my reminiscing about the good ol' days, i overheard one of the kids say to another, "hey, you wanna hang at dufferin mall?"

um, i used to hang out at the mall when i wore a younger man's clothes, as well. no, really. i did. and i was pretty good at it, too. after all, i had a lot of experience in terms of hangin' out at the mall. and not just at one mall, either. because i moved from house to house quite a bit as a kid, i got to experience just about every major shopping centre within both the north york and thornhill city limits.

first there was towne & country mall (since renamed centrepoint mall) at the corner of yonge and steeles. i remember that i used to take the steeles east 53 bus to the mall every saturday with my best bud at the time. we were maybe 10 or 11 back then. we would hang out in the food court, pretend to shop for clothes and maybe try to sneak into the movies every now and again.

later i would choose to hang at the more upscale bayview village near bayview and sheppard. i would take the bayview 11 bus, usually with a group of friends, and spend the entire day doing whatever it was that 13 or 14-year-old dudes would do back in those days. as far as i can recall, we would hang out at the food court, pretend to shop for clothes and maybe try to sneak into the movies every now and again. hmmm.

then there was thornhill square near bayview and john. i could actually hoof it there from either home or school as the mall was only a few minutes walking distance from each. the now-deceased mall was recently featured in the modern horror remake of dawn of the dead with sarah polley and mr. e from school. but most notably, i would acquire my first job at thornhill square, namely at the fruit and vegetable stand, which might explain why even to this day i can still tell the difference between a spartan apple and a gala apple. i also broke up with a girl at that mall, got into a fight at that mall, and was fired for the first time at that mall (from the aforementioned fruit and vegetable stand, no less.)

and finally, the shopping centre that stands out as the place which best defines the person i am today: i speak of none other than the promenade mall located just north of toronto proper. it was at the promenade mall where i often sought refuge after a trying day at university or law school. at 17 i left my old man's home and moved into my mom's condo set just across the parking lot from the new mall. my first year at york and my last year at osgoode were not the best years of my life, so having a place like the promenade within arm's reach provided a much-needed sanctuary where i could unwind, usually alone, and collect my thoughts in relative peace and air-conditioned comfort. not to mention the fact that the mall featured a gap clothing store which, of course, introduced me to a whole new way of looking at the universe. but that's another story.

"a good friend is someone we can count on, as well as being so much more. a friend is someone with whom we can relax and just hang out, have fun and share our innermost thoughts--deep dark secrets, lofty and noble goals, or our hopes, joys, and fears. a good friend allows you a safe space to share your deepest thoughts and needs--without worry of being judged, criticized or made to feel silly for feeling the way you do. friends cheer each other on, laugh and cry together, and just plain commiserate and listen to each other. that's why friends are friends..." - bettie and jennifer leigh youngs

song title is the most oft-quoted response to the ubiquitous mall cop's query, "so what are you kids hangin' around here for?": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0NYKWLMgx0

p.s. yorkdale is part of my present, not part of my past

don't read and rock

i'm trying to make the point that it is very difficult to concentrate on your studies when you are listening to music in the background. i am conducting this experiment because i have been told by many of my students that they often prepare for tests and exams by sitting in their bedrooms or at the library with a pair of headphones on blasting tunes from their ipods while they attempt to memorize the material from the year. i have always believed that it is virtually impossible to focus one's attention on one's studies if one is distracted by an outside sound source or visual image, like loud music or the television or facebook. and so this post is being prepared while i sit in my living room with my earphones on blasting the foo fighters' single "best of you" at maximun volume. i will not attempt to edit this entry when the song comes to an end - i will simply allow you the opportunity to judge my writing abilities while they were carried out with the benefit of musical accompaniment - namely dave grohl and his band. there. the song is over. how did i do? can you make any sense of what i've written? because this is your brain on music.

p.s. spellcheck only found one error. can you find it?

the source of my distraction: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_L4Rixya64

p.p.s. uh, good luck tomorrow, rs.

the first song i ever learned on the piano

the waitress never provides a fork unless the customer asks for one. usually i ask for one. but tonight i felt a little more adventurous than usual. tonight i was gonna give it another try. after all, when in rome... well, you know the rest. i had ordered the bento box. i chose chicken teriyaki as the main course. i was given a bit of a reprieve when the miso soup arrived. not exactly an opportunity to show off my skills just yet. next was the salad. ok, here was my chance to shine. i removed the wooden chopsticks from the wrapper. still fused together at one end, i attempted to snap the sticks in two. unfortunately, i was unable to generate a clean break. fail. the newly-separated chopstick twins looked more like a cracked wishbone than a pair of eating utensils. not a good omen. but still i soldiered on. now firmly positioned in my right hand, i began to manoeuvre the slender sticks with some hesitation. i latched onto the widest chunk of lettuce inside the wooden bowl. and squeeze. as i guided the dressing-soaked leaf to my lips, i lost hold of my prey. the lettuce fell back into the bowl. i tried again. but once again, i was met with resistance. this time, i couldn't even seem to get a decent grip on my target. eventually i was able to raise the lump of lettuce by balancing the plant on the ends of my chopsticks. not exactly what i had in mind but still a moral victory given that i was now officially digesting a menu item. when the maki arrived, i breathed a sigh of relief. hard to mess that up. big, sticky globs of rice and cucumber. the first one went into my mouth without any difficulty. the next two put up a little fight so i was forced to stab them with a solitary stick in order to facilitate feasting. within a few minutes the bento box finally appeared, and so, the main event of the evening could now begin. oddly-shaped and drenched in slippery sauce, i struggled at first with the teriyaki. similar hardships arose with respect to the oily, misshapen tempura. the asymmetrical dumplings, practically swimming in soya sauce, were a nightmare. and the rice... ugh, don't even get me going about the rice. a shovel would have been easier to manipulate with the rice.

ok, so here's the thing. i've been shown how to chow down with chopsticks on more than a few occasions over the past thirty or so years. when i taught esl full-time, i broke bread with dozens of chinese and japanese and korean kids who basically lectured me on the do's and dont's of chopstick technique. furthermore, i am not without coordination in my hands and digits. my fingers are nimble. my fingers are dexterous. my fingers are agile. so why i still have trouble negotiating a pair of chopsticks is beyond me. who knows? maybe this was meant to be my lot in life. maybe i was never intended to master the finer points of alternative dining instruments. maybe a knife and a fork and a spoon are as good as it gets for me. eh, i can live with that.

one of the most famous dance numbers in celluloid history: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKrZiddRphw&feature=related

p.s. now that the first match is out of the way, i can finally throw my undivided support behind both america and england in their next two contests. given my summative marking obligations, today i was forced to view the proceedings from the relative safety and comfort of my stately living room. that said, i can't wait to take in next friday's england-algeria match in a more appropriate setting - an open-air dining establishment in the heart of little britain near yonge and eglinton. with all due respect to my italian and portuguese friends, you haven't lived until you've spent ninety minutes yelling yourself hoarse amongst a roomful of slightly mad english football supporters. rule, britannia!

she was the man

my seven-year-old forced me to sit through most of she's the man with amanda bynes airing earlier tonight on ytv. besides the fact that my advanced age made it difficult for me to keep up with the twelfth night inspired plot, the film also contributed to quite the sense of irony this evening. why is that, you say? well, just 20 minutes or so before the start of the broadcast, my daughter and i were joined in our building's elevator by one of our more interesting neighbours. "interesting" because she, well, how shall i put this... interesting because she used to be a he. and when i say "used to be," i mean as recently as a few months ago... when seven still thought of her as a him. (the transformation, i should point out, is still in its preliminary stages.) anyhow, when seven and i stepped off the elevator, the interrogation commenced almost immediately. "daddy, why does our neighbour look so different now?" uh, different? what do you mean by different, honey? "daddy, he looks like a girl now." a girl? he looks like a girl? "yes, daddy. he looks like a girl now. how come?" well, it's... it's a little complicated. you see, our neighbour has gone through a bit of a change of late. "a change? what kind of change?" well, it's... it's like this. our neighbour is no longer a he. "what do you mean no longer a he? what is he then?" well, he is no longer a he because he... well, i suppose he is now a she. "huh?" you see, technically our neighbour is no longer a man. technically, he's... well, he's a woman now. she's a woman now. a woman. (sound of crickets chirping)

at that stage, i thought i was gonna be on the hook for a lengthy (yet delicate) discussion on the finer points of biology and anatomy and physiology and the human reproductive system. but instead, seven seemed surprisingly unfazed by the whole affair. in fact, her subsequent line of questioning leaned more towards a rather fascinating illustration of gender stereotyping amongst young people. "but daddy, if he's a she, then how come she still has an adam's apple?" adam's apple? she has an adam's apple? "and how come her fingers were so thick?" fingers? her fingers are thick? "and how come her pointy finger was shorter than her ring finger?" pointy finger? you mean her index finger? "and how come her eyelashes were so short?" eyelashes? she has short eyelashes? "and how come her voice was so deep? and her feet were so big? and her..." honey, honey, honey. let's just go home and see what's on ytv.

proof that if you wait long enough, every song ever recorded will eventually appear on youtube - this being my favourite number from 1985 for reasons i don't want to get into right now, and further evidence that musical tastes mature over time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-lHQa1pbBU

p.s. tomorrow's match between england and america will put my divided loyalties to the test. but once the contest is over, i can root for not just one but two squads all the way to the cup final.