Just Words

Can a label change your life? I was called "stupid" when I was very young. Mostly because I had a terrible stutter. It bothered me a lot. I couldn't say anything back to defend myself so, instead, I simply set out to prove them wrong. I tried my hardest to be smart. To know things. I imagined my classmates relenting their previous assaults and admitting that they were wrong. Eventually, they did correct themselves. Now I was no longer "stupid", I was a "nerd". Dictionary.com defines "nerd" as: "A person who is single-minded or accomplished in scientific or technical pursuits but is felt to be socially inept." It's strange that it's defined this way because, in my mind, it was never my actions that kept me on the outside of the "socially adept" circles, it was that label.

My nephew is being raised in a single parent home. Many people would refer to that situation as a "broken home". How will that affect him as he's growing up? How can it be said that he stands a chance at growing up to be a respectable person when people, by the nature of the language they use to describe his environment, don't expect him to achieve anything? How did we get to this state where we identify people by the negative aspects of their lives?

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Some people subscribe to the philosophy that "if you're not with me then you're against me." This is an extension of the philosophy that "the friend of my enemy is also my enemy." This is an extreme view that polarizes the world. It colours everyone they come into contact with and forces everyone around them to choose sides. As a strategy, it works best with weak people or people who are easily pushed around or swayed. For this reason, it seems strange to me why anyone would subscribe to this theory at all. I mean, who wants a weak ally?

An interesting bit of offshoot behaviour exhibited by people who follow this philosophy is that, in disputes, they will attempt to befriend people who are close friends with their enemies. In their minds they are undermining the position of their enemy by somehow showing that their enemy has less than full and loyal support from their close friends should the chips fall and those friends are forced to make a choice.

First of all, the arrogance of a person who thinks they are so charismatic that they can interrupt close friendships with a few well-placed comments and a friendly gesture is nearly unmatched in human history. Second, more often than not it is politeness that causes the close friends of their enemies to refrain from immediately sending them packing. After all, most people don't seek out confrontations that can be avoided with diplomacy. Third, this tactic will, again, only realistically affect people of weak will. And who wants a weak-willed friend backing them up when the chips are down?

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I've had more (hopefully coherent) thoughts on my rant from the other day. It seems to me that this whole terrorism conflict is between two small groups of people who are each trying to get help from the masses.

The US (and its allies, by extension) are trying to sell the war at home to get the support of the people at large. They want to fulfill army recruitment levels and they want allies to commit troops to lend both military strength and moral support. Simultaneously, they are trying to sell themselves, their soldiers and their image to the people of Iraq and the surrounding nations to get their help in ousting the terrorists and accept whatever changes the US wants to implement.

The terrorists, on the other hand, are trying to sell their movement to Muslims all over the world. They want to convince other people to pick up the torch that they have lit, to initiate violent actions against the groups named as "the enemy" and join the jihad. Simultaneously, they are trying to either scare the US and its allies off or push them into making hasty moves that will enrage more Muslims and subsequently encourage those newly offended Muslims to join the jihad.

But as I hinted previously, it looks like the majority of people on both sides have been unswayed by the actions taken in this conflict. The US has "gone to war with the army it has" and recruited a few extra troops. The terrorists have bolstered their numbers to a small extent and prolonged the insurgency in Iraq much longer than anyone predicted. But for the most part, it's just the extremist Muslims in the Middle East versus the extremely right-wing politicians (and their army) in the West.

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Resentment. Welling up inside me. I think about London more and more every day. Ruminating. Rummaging through my spare thoughts. Hating these actions of desparity and blind rage. Feeling in my core that something shuold be done. Until I take a look around at how others are reacting. People asking stupid questions and coming up with stupider answers. Treating these terrorists as if they all have the same mind and heart. As if they act with unity instead of divided cells linked only by a common enemy, however misinformed. Pundits insisting that Iraq can't be the cause of this because 9/11 happened before Iraq was invaded. As if all terrorists have the same motivations. As if they all came up with the same conclusions at the same time for the same reasons. Other people insisting that it's not a religious war with the Muslims because not all Muslims are acting this way and other Muslims are being attacked as well. As if the people blowing themselves up in an attempt to fight for their cause aren't all Muslim extremists. Many Muslim groups look a lot more like they're sitting on the sidelines waiting to see who wins rather than choosing a side and fighting for it. Londoners are upset that this has come to their capital city, and I empathize with them. But they must realize that this kind of thing happens in Baghdad on a daily basis. Their effort to "take the fight to the terrorists' home turf" has encouraged the terrorists to use the same tactic against the British. It is not the ordinary British citizen who has chosen to send troops in iraq, but the British did re-elect Tony Blair, even if with a slimmer majority. There weren't any Muslims who elected a government to send terrorists to the Western countries. US citizens re-elected George Bush, yet army recruiting quotas still fall far short of established goals. This speaks of US citizens taking the same tactic that many Muslim groups have taken. They do not oppose the Iraq war (at least not enough to oust GWB) but they aren't exactly jumping up to participate either. Maybe they're waiting to see who wins.

It seems to me that the vast majority of ordinary people on both sides don't want to fight at all. This thought has been the only peace I've felt for the past three weeks. Reporters on this side of the world point to Iraqis and try to explain that they're essentially just like us. That they don't support the terrorists and aren't participating in this conflict. They just want to live in peace. If there were any Muslim reporters covering this conflict in America, they could easily show that many, many average folk there have no connection to this war and mostly just wish it would stop. Maybe that's something the US should attempt to provide for them. Maybe it could be a major part of the anti-propaganda machine that the Truth becomes when we all subscribe to it. But realistically, if the average terrorist were to see some of the things that the US news media outlets have been saying it would only justify their actions, steel their hearts and solidify their wills. And maybe that's part of the problem as well. Maybe the Americans need to look into their own hearts and their own actions as a part of the solution. I say "part" because every reasonable person knows that this thing isn't going to go away by fixing one thing.

Another point I'd like to address is all the polarization going on these days, particularly with the subject of terrorism and its possible solutions. Many people have been pointing fingers. Many other people who have had fingers pointed at them are very quick to point them back, or direct attention to someone else. Let's get one thing clear. If a person criticizes one of the currently implemented strategies for fighting terrorsim (for example, the invasion of Iraq) it does not mean that they:
a) think that doing the exact opposite thing is better
b) have partisan reasons for their view
c) are committing treason
d) hate America
e) love terrorists and want to cuddle with them at night

I'll be the first to agree that something must be done. But that doesn't mean I think that the current solution is the best one.

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Trevor,

I'm a diehard Vancouver Canuck fan which means that, by default ,I'm a big Trevor Linden fan. You started your career in Vancouver at a promising 17 years old and you matured at just the right pace to Captain our team to the 7th game of the Cup finals in '94. You were our golden boy. Our solid, stony, steady leader through many a season. Your scoring ability was only matched by your levelheaded sportsmanship. But what happened?

I know you got a raw deal from Mike Keenan when he ransacked the team. A few tough years in New York and Montreal must have taken their toll on the ego of a previously strong player. Even though it must have been a kick to call those famous stadiums home for a while we both know where your heart remained. And so back you came to the city that loved you even when you were gone from it. Yes, you graciously accepted the Assistant Captainship that was offered to you and you laboured on with a squad you no longer recognized. And we loved you, again. You were the quintessential Canuck. The highest scoring Canuck ever. The last few playoff runs were cut short but almost always by teams that went on to the finals. Things were working for you. Things were happening. The team was building momentum that could not be contained much longer. And then came the expiry of the Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA).

I understood the players' issue the last time we had this same fight. There was quite a bit to do with teams making money from jerseys that had players' names on them and some other stuff about hockey card revenues. It made sense that the players should get a cut of that profit when each had worked hard to be a great player. But this time around it was a little different. Several teams have been losing money for quite some time. Great teams like the Calgary Flames that pushed the Cup to the 7th game of the Cup finals (sound familiar?) were getting gorged by the increasing cost of the talent that they had laboured to train from one natural superstar and a ragtag bunch 4th and 5th round draft picks. It just didn't seem right.

So then the owners wanted something called "cost certainty". Even the rich teams recognized that if the poorer teams went away there would be fewer games to play and thus would be less revenue. They banded together for the common cause of every team making money. Or, at least, every team not losing money. After all, no one would expect the players to lose money, why would we expect the owners to? But the players didn't see it that way. They heard the words "pay cut" and "salary cap" and the whole situation soon spun out of control. The players, and you in particular as the president of the NHL Player's Association, said that there was no way you would support a salary cap. The bickering started and eventually the season was cancelled.

So now I hear that the NHLPA has accepted a CBA with [insert loud gasp here] a salary cap. The owners got their "cost certainty" as surely as the sun rises in the East. So what changed for the players? Did they really think they could win this one? Was it just a matter of "not going quietly into that dark night"? Please tell me we didn't lose an entire season over bullshit posturing. The players' demands for money were ridiculous in the face of teams closing up shop. Economics will yield the simple fact that the players cannot be worth more than the people are willing to pay to go see them. Thus, when a team starts losing money, the entire structure is worth less, players included. Not everyone can play in New York where they can afford to give everyone big bucks to sit on their asses and miss the playoffs.

So, why did we miss an entire season so that the players could settle for a deal that is now less than the amount offered last year by the owners? Please tell me that there were things being considered that we don't know about. Because I hate the thought that this was all about money. I'm not sure I can watch a game right now without accidentally screaming out "GREEDY PUNKS" at the top of my lungs in pentup hockey dissatisfaction. See? Now it starts. The name-calling. The side-taking. The animosity that is normally experienced by a jilted lover is replaced with the chiding, derisive tone that comes out once that lover finally crawls back fresh from a drinking binge bringing optimistic promises of it "not happening again". And like the foolish, esteem-shattered, self-doubting people we are, we will take you back. Because at the end of the day we love the game more than the money we pay to see it, our own distaste for greedy players, or even our self-respect.

Do you love the game more than the money you've lost during your extended vacation and subsequent salary cut? Why couldn't you have realized this last year? Why couldn't you, as the NHLPA president, have rallied the players to push for a deal? Or maybe talked to them to make them realize the inevitable conclusion of holding out on the salary cap thing? You've been a team leader before. You know how it's done. You could have made a difference. Instead, you drove the wedge further between your camp and the continuation of the game you claim to love more than life itself. You'll always be the Canucks' leading scorer, but your status in the hearts of Canuck fans may be in jeopardy. We don't care that you're making 24% less than the 2 million dollars per year you were previously making to play the game you love. We care that your obstinance and greed threw our national pastime into disarray for over a year. Welcome back.

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I've been trying to write the same post every day for over a week now. I have the idea loosely formed in my head and I feel that it's important so I don't want to let it go. But every time I try to piece it together I get frustrated by my own lack of ability to make the words on the screen match the shape in my head. I have words. Some words. But they never seem to be the right ones when I type them. For a while I thought maybe they just weren't in the right order so I spent a day rearranging them. This just led to a jumbled mess and more frustration. I tried to move on and I spent an entire day ignoring anything to do with the internet. I thought that maybe the idea would seem less important after that and I could blog about other stuff. But it's just not so. This thing is still lodged firmly in my head.

I now have a plain text document filled with words I've read and reread so many times the meanings have all blurred together and I can't even look at them without that well of aggravation welling up inside me. I've come to see this post as a hated adversary. Something I can't seem to let go of but I can't soundly defeat at the same time. Sometimes I think that I could just keep explaining small pieces in a series of posts so that it's not too terribly long and I can get the whole thing out. But I always fear that the first part won't make any sense without the middle parts and the last and people will just get frustrated with reading it and ignore it entirely.

These neurotic perfectionist tendencies have plagued me my whole life. I remember participating in art classes in elementary school, spending three weeks finishing what most of the other kids spent only one class on because I simply hadn't made whatever it was as good as I wanted it to be. I didn't understand then that it was more about volume than quality. Pushing to get something out every class. Handing in what you have regardless of whether or not it's finished because it's only a stupid clay object and no one's going to have to see it except the teacher and she doesn't really care. But I cared. And I still care. And just like those feeble artworks, I won't put up this post until it's finished to my satisfaction. And anyone who's really interested is just going to have to wait.

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Having a public blog means that you express personal or political ideas to the world at large. This seems like a ballsy thing to do until you realize how many bloggers there really are and that whatever you say tends to get lost in the sea of voices. Having comments on your blog means that occasionally you will get an anonymous comment from someone who thinks you deserve whatever they're about to give you. If a person has not identified themselves it could have several benign meanings (e.g. they forgot to sign their name or they have a private blog and are using a fake name to protect their identity.) But sometimes a person comments anonymously because they are saying something inflammatory and they don't want the hassle of it coming back at them (i.e. they are afraid of reprisal). This is not only presumptuous of the intended target's vengeful tendencies but also cowardly. Ultimately, the anonymous person wants to tell their friends and allies about what they've done. They are typically proud of something that they see as an accomplishment (feats of scale aside) and they want to brag. Two ways to do this are to return to see the effect of their words or actions, another is to merely imagine the reaction of their intended target. I don't know which is more sad.

If someone were looking for an adversary, why wouldn't they just come out and declare it? If the weight of their argument is as overwhelming as their fantasies have allowed them to believe then their victory should be assured and they have nothing to fear. On the other hand, striking from the shadows has its advantages. Namely that lack of reprisal thing I mentioned earlier. In the world of the ninja assassin this is the preferred method of operation, mostly because they don't need to boast of their accomplishments. On the interweb it's a little different. The objective in this place obviously cannot be the removal of a person as in the ninja assassination scenario. What, therefore, could be the purpose of such an attack? One theory is that these actions are carried out by bullies who, through some twisted sense of purpose, seek to make themselves feel good by showing that they have the power to make others feel bad. This is an unsustainable source of happiness. Bullies deliver their selves and their esteems into the hands of their targets while claiming petulantly that they are doing something else entirely.

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Sometimes I get so angry I want to rip this world apart. Tear it from its comfortable foundations and shake it until it makes sense again. Slap it repeatedly with an open hand for sheer humiliation and then begin the real work. Crumble the bureaucratic structures that mindless people flock to. Take away all the people who are deciding all the uncomfortable things for people too terrified to make them on their own. Force people to think for themselves or drown in their own self-doubt. Remove from everyone the imagined authority to make others look small. Break down the majority so that each person is truly the master of their own decisions and thus their own lives. Give every citizen the power to reveal or conceal their own lives as they see fit. Remove the dangerous preconceptions of how people are supposed to be. Take away all expectation.

This is a dream. It may have good intentions but it cannot happen the way I see it happening in my angry moments. These kinds of decisions should never be made with anger or fear. They should be approached with calm and open-eyed levelheadedness. Fear of themselves has made people hide themselves from other people. We all have a right, not only to life, but to the living of it. Freely. No one has the right to make another feel scared or to feel small.

No one can take away your dignity. Dignity is innate. It presents itself in small gestures. Holding your head up high when you walk down the street. Not caring what other people think of you or what you do. Some people have sought to harness dignity for their own purposes. Calling only certain types of people "dignified" thus implying that people who don't act this way are "undignified". But the actions of the multitude speak out against this perversion of the language. Dignity can be held by the street hooker as easily and as confidently as the snootiest jetsetter. It is the feeling that you deserve a certain standard of treatment whether you have been afforded it or not.

Take it. Seize your own dignity with both hands and hold it close to your heart. It is the most tangible part of that ethereal thing you might call your soul. It speaks to outsiders of an inner being inside you that deserves respect. Never trust anyone who wishes that you give it up. There is never any good reason to give up your dignity. You can give your love to another as a sign of your affection. But when they ask you for your dignity they expose themselves as not being worth your love, or respect.

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I haven't updated in a while. Maybe you've noticed?

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It's happened again. Al Qaeda has already claimed responsibility for four bombs detonated in London this morning. Tomorrow, we can fight about what response should be given. Today, let's just take a moment to see what we can do for or about the victims of this tragedy. From here, all I can give are my thoughts.

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The sky is a blotchy mess. Streaks of blue-grey float past as splotches of white-grey experiment with contrast. The mountains here are low enough to see quite an acreage of sky. Clouds in the distance appear as distinct, misshapen blobs as if they were being reflected in a funhouse mirror. The effect is a dark evening sky. The edge of the horizon is lined with an orange scribble as the sun's daily parting gesture.

There is no wind and a slight moisture hangs in the too-hot air like the inside of a sleeping bag that you've been breathing inside for too long. There is not movement and the evening is gloomy. The mood pulls at me like a thousand helium balloons tied to my body with the finest thread. I look at the sky and pull back. The rain in the distance can do what it wants as long as the clouds directly above me don't open their faucets.

Clouds will release moisture when the pressure around them is no longer sufficient to maintain their relative density. When they are pushed to a higher elevation than that at which they formed, they release water. Often, as clouds move across the sky, they encounter a region that has more or less pressure than was in the previous region. This causes them to either raise or lower in elevation which, in turn, causes them to drop or gather moisture. If the pressure right above me gets too high, it will rain above me as the clouds move into place.

I can feel my mind reaching into the ether and pulling down. It's like some kind of strength that's not associated with any muscles from somewhere near the center of my gut. It feels real. But I know that there is no scientific evidence to back it up. I can imagine that my thoughts make a difference all I want but it doesn't make it true. It makes me feel like I'm doing something, though. And maybe that's the point.

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I woke up sometime on Friday morning to a wave of weakness and mild whole-body aches. I elected to go back to sleep until the discomfort went away or I found the strength to properly deal with it, whichever came first.

I woke up again closer to 1 PM. The whole-body aches had become slightly more pronounced and distinct while the weakness was pretty much at the same level. My head was pulsing. I could feel its steady rhythm in my hand through the pillow. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth hoping that the friction would cause my head to burst into flame and I could end this torment. Apparently, I hadn't drank any water before I passed out, like the experts recommend.

I lolled in bed for another 20 minutes. One part procrastination, the other part the eerie feeling that leaving the bed would make feel even worse. What the hell happened lthe night before? I was at the bar for my boss's bachelor party. I was drinking Guinness all night. With the occasional shooter that pervades even the lamest bachelor parties. I was talking to a woman near the end of the night. What happened there? Well, the one thing I did know was that she didn't come home with me and she sure as hell isn't getting me any water which is what I needed desperately. And sitting here thinking about her or water wasn't going to get me feeling any better.

I knew that I couldn't handle going upstairs to the kitchen just yet so I'd have to get water from the bathroom sink. The mere presence of the toilet in the same room as my drinking water was having very unsettling effects. Water always tastes funny when it comes from the bathroom sink. But you never balk at something that will save your life and this water quite possibly did.

The next hour was spent fighting the urge to hurl while contemplating the most opportune moment for another glass of water. My head wasn't pulsing quite so strongly and by this time I could convince myself that the phenomenon was just in my head. My body functioned best in a prone position so I put something innocuous on the TV and set about waiting for my brain to moisten. The phone rang but I neither knew where it was nor had the strength to answer and talk.

The events of the night before ran across my inner vision several times as I tried to piece together my situation. As usual, certain bits were there while other entire sections were missing. I put it temporarily out of my mind as my body began to notice the lack of solid nourishment. There was no way I could cook so that meant a trip to the store. My vanity urged me to shower before I left the house. Negotiations started. My hunger countered the necessity of a shower with a slight case of the shakes and a renewed sick feeling. My vanity relented. In the end I was smearing on deodorant and dunking my head in the sink to remove some serious bedhead.

I checked for my wallet. I had taken out enough money last night before going to the bar for rent and drinks. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed that I only had $40 left. My first thought: I was robbed. But then, who takes almost all of your money? Anybody who's going through the trouble to take $400 out of your wallet and put it back in you pants pocket isn't going to leave without everything. I must have paid it last night. A quick check with the landlord's son confirmed my prayers.

The 24-hour store near my house is a flimsy imitation of a 7-11. They have nearly all the same stuff only 7-11 is better. A cold ham sandwich that was, truthfully, mostly just bread immediately made me feel better. However, "better" is still a relative term. The Powerade helped too. Both of them.

Back at home, and able to stay upright for more than a few moments at a time, I sat down at the computer which was already on. The first thing I noticed was that I had had something to say the night before. The second thing that becomes abundantly clear is that it makes no fucking sense whatsoever. I hope someday I can remember what seemed so important to me at that moment. Let this be a lesson to you, kids. Don't blog drunk. An untold amount of Guinness will remove all capacity to think and whatever epiphany you have in your groundbreakingly drunken stupor is probably actually nothing.

Footnote: I didn't want to write this until I was sure that I hadn't left any comments on anybody else's blog that night. I've checked and it doesn't look like it but just in case, please let me know. Discreetly, if possible.

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I can't even type right now. I promise you, someday I will tell you all what happened this day. Just promise me that you'll hold out for the whole truth, with descriptions. And you'll not take any lame excuse for an answer. 'Nuff said. It took me 6 whole minutes to write this without any spelling mistakes.

p.s. Imagine how long it took me to write this when I'm drunk.

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