Today I went home (where my parents live?) for dinner. I didn't realise how rarely I actually do this until I got there. Ishan really wanted me to play with him (pretty much the norm when I visit) and we were tired of playing hockey on playstation. So after dinner, I convinced him to sit down and play piano with me. At first he looked at me like I'm an idiot, "Josh, I don't know how to play piano!"
"I know, but we'll just make stuff up. Please?"
So I sat him beside me on the bench and we experimented. we found notes that sounded great together, and notes that sounded terrible. It was so fascinating to watch his little mind work, and it filled me with so much love and appreciation for Ishan and all his brilliance. He immediately recognized dissonant groups of notes and the more harmonious ones. within seconds of me explaining octaves, he understood and could find every C on the piano. he noticed the patterns of the white and black keys, and listened as he slowly brushed his hand from one end of the piano to the other. It really was a beautiful moment, as we both observed the simplicity of the sound as if for the first time. And then he was ready. I played the first six notes of Happy Birthday. "Let me try," he said. We then spent the next 45 minutes learning the whole song. He was eager to learn, and after he learned each of the four lines, he'd make everyone listen while he performed it. It was amazing to watch him struggle and get confused and almost make it all the way through only to mess up and demand to start over from the beginning. Shanaya and Jonalyn sang along. I just found it so beautiful to watch him learn and push himself. To actually watch knowledge and understanding form in a child's brain is pretty incredible. Especially when it happens so quickly. I think he really enjoyed playing too. He decided he wants to practice it so he can play it for me on my birthday. When he finally made it all the way through, we both smiled and high-fived. I'm super proud of that kid.
P.S. Playstation is pretty lame compared to moments like these.
30.6.09
A Taste of Pavement
On June 25th, I got hit by a car.>>
Here's the story...
It was 11.10pm and I was biking home from Safeway after work. I was heading eastbound through the stoplight intersection at Dalhousie drive and Dalford Road. It was dark(I was wearing black pants and shoes, and a brown hoodie. No helmet. Feel free to chastise; I fully understand how stupid that is), and the streets basically empty. The wind at my back, I was going at least 40km/hr through the stale green light. A black SUV (Hyundai Santa Fe) approached the intersection from the opposite direction and signaled to make a left hand turn (across my path).
Fully comprehending that I had the right of way, I proceeded through the light (as I did, it turned yellow....irrelevant) expecting him to yield. He slowed down for a split second and then accelerated as he turned--smashing into me and my bike. Luckily, he hit the back half of my bike, narrowly missing my legs. I catapulted forward about 8 feet and bounced along the pavement landing primarily on my left side and face. Again, this is that moment where I cringe to think about how it should have been since I had no helmet. I wish I could remember the actual flying-through-the-air part, but your brain shuts right down when things like this happen.
My bike landed on top of me, pinning my body to the ground. I couldn't move a muscle. First word out of my mouth: "OW!" in a more irritated and strained than frantic voice. I could feel my legs and feet, but the weight of the bike was too much to pull free from without extreme pain. Almost a minute later, as I laid there trying to catch my breath and figure out if I had broken anything, a white man in his early 30s got out of the SUV and walked slowly towards me.
"Hey, buddy," he said in a vaguely curious voice, "you OK?" He stops beside me, staring down.
Heck no, I'm not okay. I just got hit by a car. What a dumb question. But I'm breathing, not gushing blood, and nothing is broken.
"Yeah...can you take the bike off of me?"
I laid there trying to figure out how to move my legs without sending brutally sharp pain up to my neck. A car slows down beside us and rolls down his window. "Hey guys...did you know your car is blocking the road?"
I looked at the black SUV behind me. He had completed his turn and then stopped. Fair enough, it was blocking traffic, but could this guy not clearly see I had just taken quite the fall?! I shook my head at him. Gosh, I thought, now I feel bad since I'm blocking the road too. Pffff...idiot.
Almost as soon as I stood up, I checked my bike for damage. The handle bars wouldn't turn, but nothing was noticeably messed up. He handed me my backpack and water bottle and said "I'm sure I had my turning signal on, so I don't know how that happened. I didn't even see you. But you seem to be okay, so i'm going to head off.
This frustrated me on so many levels. First, I don't care if he had his turning signal on. That means he plans on turning left--it doesn't imply that he's planning on taking out a biker as well. Also, just because I can stand up doesn't mean I'm fine. I still couldn't stand up straight. I had lower back spasms with every step. My bike wasn't in working order. How did this guy expect me to get home?
I made a note of his license plate and car make/model, and told him he should drive me home. He said he had to pick up his fiancé from Safeway first (she worked at the Dalhousie store). I laid on the side of the road and called Darcy. I calmly told him that I was hit by a car, and asked him to look up the legal aspects of this situation. I definitely handled the whole thing with a level head. The other guy (his name is Andrew) was either in shock (understandable) or not very bright. He dropped me off at home where we inspected the damage on his car: a powdering of dust from my bike. I later realized my bike was in perfect shape; the handle bars had just been turned 360 degrees, causing them to not turn properly.
How is this possible? I was hit pretty hard with no helmet. And all I had to show for it was a tiny cut on my ankle from the bike landing on me. My bike was in perfect shape. DUST on his bumper? Granted, my body has been a mess for the last few days and only now can bend down to touch the ground. But seriously, I got very lucky.
I filled out a police report the next day. The police called in the driver (Andrew) and asked for his version of the events.
Andrew claimed I knowingly ran a red light and apologized for it after he hit me. Funny, since he offered to pay for any bike damages. The cops can't really rule it one way or the other since nobody else saw this happen. I don't really know what my options are legally, but I plan on finding out. I wouldn't be all that angry if he hadn't lied. But now it's war.
I have more to write about, but it can wait for a couple days. Congratulations for actually reading this whole post...sorry for the length. Feel free to leave a comment.
Bonus joke: "Doubly-wrong"
"Hey Josh, I saw just-born kittens today. I named one 'Cat'. "
"Of course you did, Darcy, that's just like you: simple and minimalist."
"One of the other ones was named Napoleon."
"As in the explorer, or the ice cream?"
25.6.09
Wherever you go, there you are
...Or so says a book I have been reading. It's called 'Velvet Elvis', and it's one of those books that is heavier than the weight of its pages. The tag line for this book is "Repainting the Christian Faith" which is a fairly vague and incomplete representation of what the book is ACTUALLY about-- or, more correctly, it's an understatement. Suffice to say that this book has radically changed my views and perspectives (but not necessarily beliefs), and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes a book that makes you think. Hard. But this is not a book club, and I am not Oprah. For now I'll focus on the phrase I've pulled from it and ...rant.
"Wherever you go, there you are."
The author is talking about escapism. He is saying that you can go rags to riches, move across the country, or get plastic surgery, but at the end of the day, you'll still be you --with all the same flaws and insecurities that you tried to fix by changing physical traits instead of dealing with the emotional issues behind your actions. I can understand how running away to another city because you couldn't make friends is not truly constructive. But I also think there is a method of escapism that is in fact beneficial...maybe necessary.
Sometimes running away for a few days/weeks/months is the best thing you can do. A little physical or emotional distance from everyone or everything gives you a chance to see your life from a new perspective. The root problem that what you are running away from may, in fact, be you. But that's fine. "You" coming with you on your escapist vacation, which means that you'll be able to determine exactly what baggage you are carrying with you besides that backpack. It's like an experiment, and your new physical/emotional distance is the variable. And when you travel you'll discover the constants: those patterns and habits and insecurities that seem to be unchanging no matter where you live or who you shut out. Does this make any sense?
I'm just trying to say that constructive escapism is a very helpful way to assess any problem, just as a kid will slam his door and sit alone in his room and think about why he's so mad. Timeout is such a beautiful thing. Constructive escapism = timeout.
This past weekend, I just had timeout.
Darcy asked me to go with him to Coldplay in Vancouver with his sister, Lena, and their mom, Ameeta. I really enjoy Coldplay, so I accepted the offer. Some other friends were coming out to Vancouver too. It was like we had taken our calgary life and brought it to Vancouver since so many close friends were there. I arrived with Lena and Ameeta on a plane late thursday night. Darcy had driven out with Marya and staying on Vancouver Island...somewhere, so I was supposedly fending for myself until I met up with them. However, I had made zero attempts at planning anything as far as accomodations and transportation for my five day adventure. Ameeta and Lena (who were very generous and patient in response to my lack of planning...thankyou!) offerred me a spot of floor to sleep on until I figured out a plan. Luckily, they hotel decided to upgrade their room, turning that spot of floor into a nice queensize bed. aaalllright.
That's one point for Not Planning.
I informed Ameeta that I would be taking the ferry across to Victoria the next morning in hopes of meeting with Darcy, Marya, Charles, and Brynn. But the details were very vague and too far in the future (15 hours later) to bother with.
"Okay, well what time would you like to catch the ferry?"
"hmm...morningish?"
"How are you getting there?"
"I dunno. bus? train?"
"Well I'm actually meeting a friend right near there in the morning. I could just drop you off on the way."
Perfect! Two points for Not Planning.
On the way to the ferry, she asked some fairly important questions:
"The ferry docks about 1/2 hour outside Victoria. How are you getting downtown to meet with friends?"
hmm... "I'll catch a bus I guess..I'm sure there must be one somewhere. I'll figure it out when I get there."
On the ferry, I watched whales jump and played guitar on the top deck, carefree. A man named Ray in his 50s seemed to be listening, and we eventually struck up conversation. Since he was a local, he asked what my plans were in Victoria. I told him I had none.
"Well don't you know where you're sleeping tonight?"
"...no."
"Don't you have friends in Victoria?"
"Yes, but i don't know where they are."
"Well where are you meeting them?"
" I dunno. Downtown, I guess."
I smiled and blissfully strummed my guitar. He did a little bit of panicking for me.
"How are you getting downtown?"
"I dunno. Bus, I suppose."
He shook his head and frowned slightly. "The busses needed to be pre-arranged. You're too late now. I suppose I can drop you off downtown if you'd like."
THREE points for Not Planning. (As long as you forget the part about getting into a stranger's cars far from home and all that. But Ray seemed like a cool guy.)
We jumped in his big truck and began headed to Victoria. I learned he was a weapons carrier for Vancouver area. And we are talking warheads, grenades, dynamite and torpedoes here. I eagerly tried to peer in the back of his truck. He claimed to work for the government, and I chose to believe him. He now has a copy of Clarity Amid The Chaos, which he was thrilled about. This serves as my first hitchhiking experience.
To lump the rest of my trip together, it was a great time. I love the west coast (grey skies and all), Coldplay was an 8.5/10(they were captivating, but not explosively epic. great seats though). Friends/family were amazing.
As I walked the streets of Victoria/Vancouver, I felt comfortable and at home, no matter where I was wandering. And it was at that point that I realized that it wasn't where I was, it was who I was. I am becoming comfortable being me... at home in myself. I realized that I'm still the same person there as I am here. It just took going there to see who I actually am, I guess.
Wherever you go, there you are.
My west coast timeout was wonderfully helpful. Self-reflection was the theme, spurred on by the aforementioned book. By not planning a minute, and remaining open to new plans as well as new ideas from this book, I was taken (both mentally and geographically) exactly where I needed to go...wherever that ended up being.
"Wherever you go, there you are."
The author is talking about escapism. He is saying that you can go rags to riches, move across the country, or get plastic surgery, but at the end of the day, you'll still be you --with all the same flaws and insecurities that you tried to fix by changing physical traits instead of dealing with the emotional issues behind your actions. I can understand how running away to another city because you couldn't make friends is not truly constructive. But I also think there is a method of escapism that is in fact beneficial...maybe necessary.
Sometimes running away for a few days/weeks/months is the best thing you can do. A little physical or emotional distance from everyone or everything gives you a chance to see your life from a new perspective. The root problem that what you are running away from may, in fact, be you. But that's fine. "You" coming with you on your escapist vacation, which means that you'll be able to determine exactly what baggage you are carrying with you besides that backpack. It's like an experiment, and your new physical/emotional distance is the variable. And when you travel you'll discover the constants: those patterns and habits and insecurities that seem to be unchanging no matter where you live or who you shut out. Does this make any sense?
I'm just trying to say that constructive escapism is a very helpful way to assess any problem, just as a kid will slam his door and sit alone in his room and think about why he's so mad. Timeout is such a beautiful thing. Constructive escapism = timeout.
This past weekend, I just had timeout.
Darcy asked me to go with him to Coldplay in Vancouver with his sister, Lena, and their mom, Ameeta. I really enjoy Coldplay, so I accepted the offer. Some other friends were coming out to Vancouver too. It was like we had taken our calgary life and brought it to Vancouver since so many close friends were there. I arrived with Lena and Ameeta on a plane late thursday night. Darcy had driven out with Marya and staying on Vancouver Island...somewhere, so I was supposedly fending for myself until I met up with them. However, I had made zero attempts at planning anything as far as accomodations and transportation for my five day adventure. Ameeta and Lena (who were very generous and patient in response to my lack of planning...thankyou!) offerred me a spot of floor to sleep on until I figured out a plan. Luckily, they hotel decided to upgrade their room, turning that spot of floor into a nice queensize bed. aaalllright.
That's one point for Not Planning.
I informed Ameeta that I would be taking the ferry across to Victoria the next morning in hopes of meeting with Darcy, Marya, Charles, and Brynn. But the details were very vague and too far in the future (15 hours later) to bother with.
"Okay, well what time would you like to catch the ferry?"
"hmm...morningish?"
"How are you getting there?"
"I dunno. bus? train?"
"Well I'm actually meeting a friend right near there in the morning. I could just drop you off on the way."
Perfect! Two points for Not Planning.
On the way to the ferry, she asked some fairly important questions:
"The ferry docks about 1/2 hour outside Victoria. How are you getting downtown to meet with friends?"
hmm... "I'll catch a bus I guess..I'm sure there must be one somewhere. I'll figure it out when I get there."
On the ferry, I watched whales jump and played guitar on the top deck, carefree. A man named Ray in his 50s seemed to be listening, and we eventually struck up conversation. Since he was a local, he asked what my plans were in Victoria. I told him I had none.
"Well don't you know where you're sleeping tonight?"
"...no."
"Don't you have friends in Victoria?"
"Yes, but i don't know where they are."
"Well where are you meeting them?"
" I dunno. Downtown, I guess."
I smiled and blissfully strummed my guitar. He did a little bit of panicking for me.
"How are you getting downtown?"
"I dunno. Bus, I suppose."
He shook his head and frowned slightly. "The busses needed to be pre-arranged. You're too late now. I suppose I can drop you off downtown if you'd like."
THREE points for Not Planning. (As long as you forget the part about getting into a stranger's cars far from home and all that. But Ray seemed like a cool guy.)
We jumped in his big truck and began headed to Victoria. I learned he was a weapons carrier for Vancouver area. And we are talking warheads, grenades, dynamite and torpedoes here. I eagerly tried to peer in the back of his truck. He claimed to work for the government, and I chose to believe him. He now has a copy of Clarity Amid The Chaos, which he was thrilled about. This serves as my first hitchhiking experience.
To lump the rest of my trip together, it was a great time. I love the west coast (grey skies and all), Coldplay was an 8.5/10(they were captivating, but not explosively epic. great seats though). Friends/family were amazing.
As I walked the streets of Victoria/Vancouver, I felt comfortable and at home, no matter where I was wandering. And it was at that point that I realized that it wasn't where I was, it was who I was. I am becoming comfortable being me... at home in myself. I realized that I'm still the same person there as I am here. It just took going there to see who I actually am, I guess.
Wherever you go, there you are.
My west coast timeout was wonderfully helpful. Self-reflection was the theme, spurred on by the aforementioned book. By not planning a minute, and remaining open to new plans as well as new ideas from this book, I was taken (both mentally and geographically) exactly where I needed to go...wherever that ended up being.
18.6.09
There's A First Time For Everything...
There's many things I'd like to do. This is one of them. I suppose we'll have to wait and see if I actually accomplish something here. It'll be something new and exciting for a while, which makes it easier. Hopefully, when the novelty wears off, habit will take over since some things get easier with time. Here we go.
Tomorrow, I head off to Vancouver and Victoria for 5 days or so. The primary reason is to see Coldplay (one of my top 6 favourite bands ever), but I'm just looking forward to getting away for a while. I can't say life has been monotonous and that this vacation will be a break from boredom. Watching the roller coaster that is my bank account has been thrilling enough. Moving out is expensive, and I had only just finished paying off various debt before calling 3344 Boulton Rd home. Money is definitely one of the things that really stresses me out. People say money can't buy happiness. I dunno about that. I can sincerely tell you that I feel waaay better knowing I have money to blow on traveling, friends, or heck..just to pay for University. So while I'll probably penny pinch the whole time I'm in BC, i'll be glad to know that i'm unable to pick up extra shifts, work more overtime, or have to wake up super early to catch the train to work. Time to relax!
I'll keep this short, but end with an good story.
I'm stackin' appples in Safeway, and an 50 year old man comes up to me and says, "Do you know what Gruyere is?"
"No...and we don't carry it in produce."
"I think it's a kind of cheese. My wife sent me here to shop for dinner ingredients."
That's the general trend with older guys alone in the store. They are lost, confused, and feel vulnerable. It's pretty funny how few guys can accurately label things like green onions and turnips. I smile, "OK, well it'll probably be down in the Deli with the other fancy cheeses..." and we proceed to walk to the far end of the store in search of these fancy cheeses. The entire time we walk, he complains about how his wife makes such complicated meals and how she's so picky about the ingredients. I politely nod and chuckle, find him a chunk of Gruyere, and decide to stop biting my tongue. "Hey, man. You should be thankful she cooks at all for you. At least she's not making macaroni and cheese, right?"
He squints at the block of cheese in his hand and shakes it in the air. "That's the thing," he says, "She IS making macaroni and cheese."
Tomorrow, I head off to Vancouver and Victoria for 5 days or so. The primary reason is to see Coldplay (one of my top 6 favourite bands ever), but I'm just looking forward to getting away for a while. I can't say life has been monotonous and that this vacation will be a break from boredom. Watching the roller coaster that is my bank account has been thrilling enough. Moving out is expensive, and I had only just finished paying off various debt before calling 3344 Boulton Rd home. Money is definitely one of the things that really stresses me out. People say money can't buy happiness. I dunno about that. I can sincerely tell you that I feel waaay better knowing I have money to blow on traveling, friends, or heck..just to pay for University. So while I'll probably penny pinch the whole time I'm in BC, i'll be glad to know that i'm unable to pick up extra shifts, work more overtime, or have to wake up super early to catch the train to work. Time to relax!
I'll keep this short, but end with an good story.
I'm stackin' appples in Safeway, and an 50 year old man comes up to me and says, "Do you know what Gruyere is?"
"No...and we don't carry it in produce."
"I think it's a kind of cheese. My wife sent me here to shop for dinner ingredients."
That's the general trend with older guys alone in the store. They are lost, confused, and feel vulnerable. It's pretty funny how few guys can accurately label things like green onions and turnips. I smile, "OK, well it'll probably be down in the Deli with the other fancy cheeses..." and we proceed to walk to the far end of the store in search of these fancy cheeses. The entire time we walk, he complains about how his wife makes such complicated meals and how she's so picky about the ingredients. I politely nod and chuckle, find him a chunk of Gruyere, and decide to stop biting my tongue. "Hey, man. You should be thankful she cooks at all for you. At least she's not making macaroni and cheese, right?"
He squints at the block of cheese in his hand and shakes it in the air. "That's the thing," he says, "She IS making macaroni and cheese."
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