The Penalty Box

Last year, I lamented that there was a distinct lack of people handing out poppies.  No stores I visited had poppy cans or trays.  This year I noticed quite a few stores with those familiar Legion cans, as well as a couple people handing out poppies.  Perhaps because it was the 90th anniversary of the First World War armistice, but it was good to see stuff like that coming back.
Watching a news story on the Highway of Heroes made me marvel at the human spirit.  The fact that it started without any fanfare or political push represents the best of this country when it’s the worst time for the family of the fallen.  It’s strange who we call heroes these days.  David Beckham was called a hero for scoring on a penalty kick.  So too was Jason Arnott, when he scored in overtime to win the Stanley Cup.  But when I gazed upon the only remaining Canadian soldier from World War I placing a rose at Victory Square, well, I think you know what I’m getting at.  We should all acknowledge the real heroes today.

Recently at work I’ve been whittling down the “To Do” list that has been building up.  You know, the one that has items in a perpetual state of “I’ll do it when I have time,” and then you seemingly never have time.  Priorities shift depending on the circumstances; some items move up and some move down.  Having a “To Do” list isn’t a bad thing; it helps keep us organize and provides a sense of order.

But you know those things you wish you could do, but you never think you have the time for? It turns out, you probably do, but you just don’t realize it.  There are many things in our daily lives that we do that, little by little, consume far too much of our time than is good for us.  Therefore, in conjunction with your “To Do” list, you should also come up with a “Not To Do” list.  This list should consist of small things that you do too often that you can cut down on, and the world will not end.  Here are a few of mine:

1. Check e-mail at scheduled points of the day, or to a maximum amount: I used to periodically check my e-mail, up to several times an hour.  This led me to get distracted far too many times from the task I really ought to be doing, which would then delay other tasks on my “To Do” list.  The problem is that by checking my e-mail so often, once an e-mail came in, I felt compelled to answer it or deal with it in some way (file it, tag it, etc).  Was everything urgent enough to need that much attention? Not even close.  But little by little, e-mail began to consume more and more of my time.   Deal with your e-mail in batches; it’s much more efficient, and you don’t needlessly distract yourself.  Once you get distracted, it takes time to re-focus, time that could’ve been spent being productive on your task at hand.
2. As a caveat to the first one, don’t check your e-mail first thing in the morning or just before you go to bed: Wait until you’ve woken up (or at least exited that zombie state) for the former.  Dealing with e-mail first thing in the morning breaks up your routine, shifts priorities and throws a monkey wrench into the plans you have.  This is all part of the distractions that make you lose focus and cause you to spend time re-focusing.  Take care of at least one critical thing first (aside from morning coffee/tea) and then move onto your e-mail.  As for the latter, you’ll just cause yourself to think too much about whatever comes in.  Having your brain churn that much just before you’re going to sleep isn’t going to give you a decent night’s rest.  Deal with it in the morning; you’ll exit zombie state faster and you’ll sleep better.
3. Learn the difference between rambling and productive small talk: If you’re like me, you’re not a fan of ramblers.  Idle chit chat ends up in a conversation about nothing and prevents you from doing anything useful/fun.  Starting every conversation with “How’s it going?” seems to be a reflex among a lot of people I know, especially co-workers.  I know they don’t actually want to know, because that question inevitably leads to what I’m working on, and it’s generally not remotely interesting to them.  The annoying times are when the question is asked in passing; if you’re not willing to stop to have a conversation, don’t ask.  However, corporate ladder climbing and networking for jobs involves small talk, so it’s good to learn the difference between productive small talk that will land you opportunities and unproductive rambling that goes nowhere.  One greases social gears for life in general, the other is just a waste of time.
4. Pick your battles: In a perfect world, you could fight for everything you believe to be right and win, even down to the smallest thing.  Dealing fellow humans changes that.  Messy complicated issues like politics weigh down what is right, where “right” can be subjective (ex. how often you clean, do pens have to be 90 degrees to pads of paper, should corporal punishment be allowed in parenting).  Learning how to let some of the smaller things slide can remove a lot of stress from your life, and consequently you can be a little happier not getting mad over them.  Other times, it just isn’t appropriate to fight battles because even if you win that battle, you lose the war.  Anyone who has worked in any place, whether it be an office or lab, for a nontrivial amount of time knows what I’m talking about.  Don’t get me wrong, venting to a confidant always helps to release some pent up frustrations, but fighting every battle leaves you weary, unhappy and worse off overall.  Pick the ones really worth fighting for, take back the time spent on the ones that aren’t.
5. Stop checking your feed reader so much: I have gone from obsessively checking my e-mail to obsessively checking my feed reader.  Google Reader has made it much easier to group all of my RSS feeds together.  It also piles up much quicker because many of my feeds update frequently, particularly the news feeds.  There’s something about seeing more than 50 unread items that bugs me, but this is something I’m working on.  In a lot of cases, looking at your feed reader so much is worse than checking your e-mail; it can be like Wikipedia surfing…one good article leads to another, and then another, and then another.  All of a sudden, 2 hours have slipped by and you think to yourself, “Oh crap…there was stuff I needed to do in those two hours.  Eh, maybe just one more.”

The best part of a “Not To Do” list? You can keep doing the stuff on it and accomplish something all the time.

Being a history minor that focused primarily on the 20th century, you can kind of expect some kind of response from me when discussing the events surrounding this time of year. After the First World War, we swore: Never Again. Twenty years later, we broke that promise. After the Second World War, we swore we would never forget. But have we?

No, I don’t believe we have, not entirely anyways. There are still memorial events around Victory Square, Remembrance Day specials and war movies on TV. However, something was amiss this year. I didn’t see a single poppy stand, can or tray person anywhere. I work downtown, not that far from Gastown. My company’s office is in a building with a major tourist attraction and a campus of a major university. It’s across the street from Waterfront Station, a major transportation hub. This weekend I was at Coquitlam Centre, the biggest mall here next to Metrotown. In all of these places, no one was handing out poppies, no store even had a can to hold donations for the Legion. For a promise of “Lest we forget,” we sure as hell aren’t doing even the simplest things to fulfill it.

Every year I like to get a poppy. For one, the pins aren’t that sturdy for the most part, and, after a week’s worth of wear, I usually bend it, so a new poppy is good. Besides, it goes to supporting the Legion and the veterans. But I had to recycle last year’s poppy because no one was handing out poppies. I also hear that no one’s doing it on the main Burnaby campus of SFU either. So what the hell is going on? It’s rather disheartening to see that no stores could even take the time to call up their local Legion and dedicate a small part of their cashier/customer service counter space for a poppy can. Does it really take that much effort?
I understand that the WW2 veterans are getting fewer in numbers as the years go by. Most of them are in their 90s and really shouldn’t be out there in the cold for hours handing out poppies. But where are the rest of the veterans, the ones of later conflicts? Korea? Gulf War? Afghanistan? Why aren’t any of these guys doing poppy duty? What of the kids? Air cadets? Scouts? Where are they? I know they still exist, and it mystifies me as to why none of them have taken up the torch in this regard.  Doubly so since I’ve seen them do it in years past.
It doesn’t really help my cynicism when there are always douchebags that don’t shut up during the 2 minutes of silence requested during public gatherings. What really irked me was when I saw a commercial on TV advertising a Veterans’ Day sale. In an age of political correctness up the wazoo, I’m curious as to how a marketing campaign like that got the go ahead. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the ads for World Trade Center silver dollars and scrap metal. Mind you, 9/11 has sort of lost some significance with Rudy Giuliani uttering the phrase every second word.

Maybe this year was just an off year poppy-wise. Bad logistics or poor planning, whatever, hopefully it’s fixed for next year so this doesn’t happen again. Regardless of whether you got a poppy this year, I hope you take the time to reflect on the significance of Remembrance Day. If I may take a paraphrased page out of another chapter of history: Remember, remember the eleventh of November. We made that promise; we ought to keep it.

How do you measure, a year…and we’ll stop there.

So…a full year officially of me in the workforce.  It’s strange how when you’re in school, some semesters seem to drag on forever.  Long, arduous, and, depending on the professor in some cases, torturous.  Projects and homework and exams didn’t seem to end, they just kept coming.  Days were long, nights were longer; sometimes it got to the point where you didn’t know what you wanted more: beer or sleep.  Indulge too much of either, and the next project is behind schedule and, before you know it, you’re totally boned.  Indulge too much of both and you end up puking in a trashcan or two as you stumble your way towards Shadow Day, a delightful experience for those prospective high school students looking to choose their post secondary institution (not to name names, but his name rhymes with Boa Fadams).  Mind you, I’m working with a rather small sample set; most of the people I associate with of whom I know their academic (mis)adventures are either in computing science or are those crazy wackjobs that go to grad school.  Party on Garth.
Yet when one is working full-time, days seem shorter and nights achieve some level of normalcy.  By that I mean it’s difficult to make it through the day at work hung over with the same ability to keep down food as a pregnant woman in the morning.  Unless, of course, you have a job as a Wal-mart greeter.  Those people are suspiciously drowsy and slow moving.  Don’t discriminate because they’re old, you ageists.  But I digress.  Work tends to make days go by faster.  There’s some sense of routine, yet not routine (if you have a job you like anyway) that alters the perception of time passage.  Of course it doesn’t help that my roommate has already started Christmas shopping.  Yeah, I know.  Yes, I said the same thing.

Perhaps the fast-paced nature of the working world is supposed to make us think about what’s really important in life.  I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to come to this kind of conclusion until I’m approaching middle age, then compensate for missing this realization by purchasing a fast car to impress the chicks.  Then again, I’ve always managed to overthink into the future and become far too practical.  Damn, I guess I won’t be getting that fast car.  At least not on impulse.  Hmmm…there’s a Magic 8-ball sitting on the shelf, maybe I should ask it.  Nah, the thing’s rigged anyways.

It’s good to take a step back once in a while, shake your head clear of the stress and worries that come with life and work (or school if you still have it.  Suckers.), and contemplate what things you hold important.  Family? Friends? Love? That gorgeous new Lexus droptop that would look really sweet with a hot little number in a red dress sitting in the passenger seat? (Hey, I don’t pretend to know what some mathematicians do in their spare time, but anthropomorphizing pi seems right up their alley.  Right, Bishnu?) Then go outside and step on some flowers.  Little bastards cause all those pesky allergies, plus there’s the bonus of stamping relieving some of that built-up stress.

Speaking of some important stuff, hockey’s back.  Anyone got Center Ice that I can mooch off of when the Canucks have a pay-per-view game?

I’ve been finished classes and exams for a year now, and it’s a rather odd feeling.  It really hasn’t felt like a year has passed since I’ve completed all necessary requirements for my BSc.  Yet in less than two months, it’ll be a year since I’ve convocated and a year since I’ve started working full time.  I’ve moved out and not starved.  I’ve actually started thinking about RRSPs, a down payment for a place of my own and opened an investment portfolio.  Growing up feels really weird.

Recently I read an article on the Internet about how the 20s are the new teens.  More and more, young adults are doing all the stupid shit they should’ve gotten out of their system when they were 16.  Instead, drug experimentation, DUIs and general asshattery has spilled into early to mid 20s.  While there haven’t exactly been ideal role models for twenty-somethings, the party lust hasn’t died as quickly as previous generations.  The rebellious “rage against the man” phase has seemingly extended further into adulthood.  I don’t know if parents have turned into a generation of wimps or what, but it sounds as if a lot of people my age are still rather carefree.  Undoubtedly it has something to do with an average university education taking a lot longer than 4 years.

I just wonder where the hell these people end up, because there’s an awful lot of them.  There’s only so many burger flippers and manual labour to go around.  And how have they not flunked out yet already? Then again, to get into SFU Computing Science these days you need something idiotically low like 75%, a far cry from the 93% for my year.  Catering to the stupid is a disturbing trend, and only goes to show that natural selection doesn’t apply to humans.  We’re doing a remarkably good job at protecting the stupid and weak.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve missed out on anything, having somewhat grown up rather quickly.  I won’t ever get drunk due to medical reasons.  I no longer have the energy, or will, to party to dawn.  Popular destinations to “go out” to (like clubs) appear more annoying and useless than fun.  I feel more like a 35 year old in a club than a 23 year old.  I take a look at what people my age do, and I wonder how it’s fun or how they don’t think about the mounds of debt they are heaping upon themselves.  Or if they’re not partying on loans, how their parents justify supporting such a unsustainable lifestyle.  I guess I just moved past that mentality years ago (though I’m not sure if I ever even got to that point, I probably skipped it).

So at what point do these carefree twenty-somethings realize what the real world is like? While it’d be funny to watch them crash and burn, they probably would just tax the welfare system to its limits.  Maybe we can just feed them to the hobos downtown.

I realize that it is a common understanding in western culture that parents can’t wait for their kids to move out, particularly after dealing with the emo rage against authority teenage stage of their lives. Equally, in Chinese culture, parents can’t wait to find a rich future spouse to marry their kid off to in order to grow the family reputation, power and wealth. Despite this general stereotype, there is still the lingering seeds of doubt behind every parent’s mind when a child leaves the house; will they make it? Did I do everything I should have to prepare them?

For the most part, parents don’t really like to see their children grow up and be able to run their own lives. It means they have become spectators. After years of being active, suddenly being resigned to a sideline role doesn’t really sit well. I liken it to an athlete that is at retirement age. He doesn’t want to stop playing because he loves the game. He knows he should retire because it’s time to move on, but continuing to play only worsens his image and enjoyment of the game. Parents know when it’s about time for their kids to set out on their own. Too much involvement past a certain age does more harm than good, but sometimes they can’t help but want to remain involved.
My parents still play a few shifts in my life. They’ve been watching my sister for a few years. Heck, it’s even gotten difficult for them to watch the game anymore now that she’s out east. According to a few of my friends that have moved out, parents get exponentially crazier the more they realize they are becoming spectators. “Empty Nest Syndrome” I believe is the technical term for it. So who will actually go off the deep end first, parent or child?

Ah well, whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, right? Or…something.

This year was an interesting one to say the least.  One that included graduation, finding a job and reaching a level of apathy I thought I would never reach.

The year started off with CUTC, which kinda sucked.  Being out in Markham, Ontario meant we were in the equivalent of Richmond, BC.  Close enough to Toronto for local residents to go home after conference activities but far out enough to make going anywhere a giant pain in the ass for non-residents.  This meant all those that lived there buggered off around 5pm; coupled with the fact that the hotel spread all the delegates all over the hotel, there wasn’t really a chance for any post-activity interaction.  Most people stayed in their hotel rooms and didn’t come out, which was pretty lame.  The tech fair wasn’t much better, as most companies didn’t sound very interested in people not from Ontario.  Way to dispell the “Centre of the Universe” hatred there.

The rest of the semester went fairly smoothly, aside from the End of Semester Social.  I had organized the previous three and really didn’t want to do that one.  Unfortunately, we had a rather PHB-like VPA which would’ve ended up, something I’m not really going to start ranting about.  Suffice to say, as the semester drew to a close, my level of frustration increased exponentially, and it had nothing to do with schoolwork.  I ended up organizing it again and that, combined with the end of my term as Treasurer, really sent me over the metaphorical apathy edge.  I just stopped caring and, over the summer, didn’t really do a whole lot of Society-related stuff.  It surprised me at how much I stopped caring, mainly because I had spent a majority of my time at SFU as an executive in the CSSS.  However, that didn’t really last, as when the end of the summer drew near, I got involved with FroshWeek.

The summer was my last semester, but I still stuck around for FroshWeek, even helping out during the events.  Timbo eloquently (read: obnoxiously) asked, “why the hell are you still here?” I could feel the love, but its literal interpretation still stuck.  I guess despite the fact I was happy I was done my degree, facing the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing my friends every day was somewhat troubling.  I suppose that was enough to erase any apathy I may have built up out of bitterness and burnout.

The weeks after FroshWeek were filled with uncertainty and doubt.  The contacts I had made previously were working at companies that were looking for software testers and tech support personnel.  I really wasn’t interested in either, particularly since I worked an 8 month co-op in tech support and I do tech support for my family already.  That pretty much left cold-calling, or cold-applying.  Interestingly enough, my second interview was the company that hired me.  Pleasant surprise, and an indication of how good the job market is right now.  I landed in a great company and the people make work enjoyable.  The owners said they were looking for a good fit, and it looks like they’re pretty good at identifying personality because my co-workers share my brand of sarcastic humour.  Plus the whole place is hockey mad, which is great.

Healthwise, I’ve gained a few pounds since the start of the year.  I had a resolution for 2006 to start getting into shape.  That really didn’t start going well until a gym opened where I work.  I haven’t lost any appreciable weight, but I have gotten fitter at least.  Then again, I don’t expect weight loss results in a couple weeks, but at least I’m not breathing hard when going up a couple flights of stairs anymore.

My sister recently obtained her master’s degree and has moved east to Peterborough to get her doctorate.  She has been moved out of the house for a while now, but she was always within the local area.  I’m not sure if it really has sunk in yet for me.  I guess I’ll just have to harass her electronically now.  I know she’ll be fine out there, and it’s good she has a fellow Canuck fan in the house she’s living in.  It’s just too bad that there are two Leafs fans there too.  It’s more worrying that she’ll be exposed to that filth rather than, you know, forgetting about food or something.

My parents are understandably worried.  It’s the first time she’ll be out of easy driving distance.  I know most parents generally don’t like to see their kids grow up.  It means they become spectators.  I’m still living at home, so my parents still get to play a few shifts.  They can’t even watch the game with my sister in Ontario.  Is it weird that I’m worrying about them worrying about my sister and me?

The new year is met with less uncertainty than if I were still unemployed.  I’m still not sure about where to live, since taking the train has been quick and far less painful than doing either the 160 or Skytrain.  Living downtown would get rather expensive quickly.  Perhaps Port Moody, close to the train station would work.  Something to think about in January I guess.  I’m pretty sure things will work out okay.
Here’s to a prosperous and happy new year everyone.

Time is really passing quite quickly these days. It’s weird because it doesn’t really FEEL like Christmas. Maybe it’s because for the first time in my life, I haven’t had any vacation leading up to December 25th. I’ve had co-ops during December, but they were so slack leading up to Christmas that it didn’t really feel like working. This year it’s been busy up to last Friday, where productivity in the office basically went to zero as Christmas tunes blasted through the speakers of a co-worker. Or maybe it’s because I got my shopping done early this year (for relative values of “early” not including “Aimee early” because Aimee is nuts). Managing to avoid the crazed shoppers at the mall was a big plus this year.

Another thing was that the house wasn’t decorated this year for Christmas beyond a few lights strung up outside. My mom’s heading to Hong Kong tomorrow and my sister’s heading off to Peterborough to do her PhD on Wednesday. Not really much point to decorate this year, although I did miss putting all that stuff up with the family. Despite the different random stacking algorithm used each year to get stuff in and out of the crawlspace, it was almost fun at times. Of course, the decorating part was always better than the “dammit, how’d all this stuff FIT in there???”

With all the coming and going, members of my family leaving for different parts of the planet, I managed to still observe the effects of the movement of life. My parents, understandably, are worried about my sister as she moves to the other side of the country for a nontrivial amount of time.  They’re also worried about leaving me alone for a few weeks.  They do, however, need this vacation and I also need to learn how to fend for myself for some extended period.  How else am I ever going to move out and survive? This bout of worrying has really shown how much I am their son though.  They worry a lot.  So do I.  Those that know me best know how I overworry at times, whether it was about school, family, friends or general life.  Realizing just how much I’m like my parents is comforting and scary at the same time.  Comforting in the fact that some of my quirks are indeed genetic and not my fault and scary in that one is supposed to turn into one’s parents at a far later age than my current age of 23.  I guess my point in this overly long ramble is that Christmas puts some kind of perspective on life and family.

The other night I also had a random mind wandering back to high school as I stared out of the car window heading back from my aunt’s place.  It was an odd time for a recollection of that point in my life; I even traced through various ups and downs and their effects on my person.  Looking back, I’d really like to punch my high school self in the face if I could.  Man, I was a whiny little twit back then.  I sure as hell am glad I’m no longer in that phase of my life anymore.  Still, from what happened then, I definitely learned how NOT to be a little shithead.  My worries then seemed pretty trivial now, and I have a feeling many of the worries I currently hold will just end up be a case of overworrying and things will work themselves out.  Just need to have a little faith, right? And no, I’m not about to bust out an impersonation of George Michael.  If you didn’t get that joke, shut up and stop making me feel old.

After the airport back and forth is over this week, it’ll be a prep for New Year’s.  Thinking about the past year, trials and tribulations…it’ll either reshape my outlook on life, like it does most other years, or just drive me crazy.  I haven’t decided which yet, but it should be interesting.

I suppose I’ve bored many of you to tears with that.  Sorry, nothing really exciting happening at the moment.  To make it up to you, please watch this Weird Al interview with Kevin Federline. Merry Christmas everyone.