The Credential Inflator - The (Worst?) Way To Someone's Heart

Okay, funny story time! Actually, I should say stories, plural. But, they're funny stories with a moral. Aesop would be proud of me, no? By the way, these are all true stories.

First, the side stories.

SIDE STORY 1:

This is a story about a friend, but I won't use her real name on this post. Let's call her Jenny for the sake of anonymity from the rest of our friends out there reading this. One afternoon, Jenny was pumping gas at the gas station, texting me while she was doing so (WHICH IS NOT SAFE, JENNY, BEE TEE DOUBLE YEW). Yet, while she did so, a man dressed in carpenter overalls pumped gas beside her - blatantly checking her out. Rolling her eyes, she headed in to pay, grabbed a chocolate bar (upon contemplation), and walked out. Yet, as she headed out, Man In The Overalls walked up to her, grinned conversationally, and winked "Hey, Beautiful. What's up?"

Jenny rolled her eyes, grabbed her keys, and walked past him. As she did, she heard him chuckle behind her. He called after her, "Hey, I noticed the UofT keychain on your keys. So, you're one of those educated types, eh? Is that why you won't talk to me? 'Cause I'm a carpenter? What if I was wearing a suit? Would you talk to me then?"

Uncomfortable, Jenny jumped into her car, and booked the heck out of the gas station. She called me later that day to relay the story.

The nerve, right?

No, Overalls. She won't talk to you because you're weird.

SIDE STORY 2:

So, one autumn afternoon last October, coming home from Queen's for the Thanksgiving long weekend, I sat at Union Station waiting for my Dad to pick me up. Seated beside my suitcases, I played Sudoku (because I'm a nerd) and constantly checked my watch for the time.

Then, a relatively good-looking guy in a security uniform sat beside me. Thinking I was in his way, I moved over to give him more room.

Except, ugh, this happened. Security Uniform smiled, nodded at my Sudoku book, and tried to make conversation. "So, cool game, eh?"

Oh, for the love of all that is holy.

I was a little sketched out. It was late at night, I was by myself. Safety first, right? And plus, I know I watch too many movies, but what if his security uniform was FAKE?! No one hits on customers on the job! Uncomfortable, I stood, I smiled, nodded yes, grabbed my suitcases, and began to roll them towards the Exit.

"Hey," yelled Security Uniform, "You're wearing a Queen's University sweatshirt. Just because you go to Queen's, you think you're too good to talk to me?! Huh? Because you're more educated?!"

Good call on running away, Barb.

THE MAIN STORY - LESSONS ON CREDENTIAL INFLATORS

So, Jenny and I, along with a bunch of other friends, had a fantastic weekend. Movies, outings, went out in Toronto, breakfasts, etc. It was a wonderful (yet obviously unproductive) weekend.

But, so, here's the scenario for you. We're at a club/a restaurant. It's fun times, right? (Actually, so much fun!). And, of course. My friends are gorgeous, so situations like the ones to follow happen more often than not. And so, the traditional ritual of mating dance begins with introductions ensuing between prospective admirers and my friends, among those invited to the party. Mutual friends are a good way to meet people, right?

Yet, hilariously (and actually kind of interestingly) the following conversations happen. Note: I'm not using real names here.

-----------------------

My friend, Sarah: So, what do you do?
Guy #1: I actually work at a call centre in Toronto. You?
My friend, Sarah: Oh, I just graduated from UofT. I'll be going to med school in September.
Guy #1: Oh... you're one of those.
My friend, Sarah: ......
-----------------------

My friend, Jenny: So, what do you do?
Guy #2: I work at a gym. I'm a personal trainer. What about you?
My friend, Jenny: Oh, I'm about to start my pharmaceuticals Masters program this Fall.
Guy #2: Oh.... you're one of those educated types.
My friend, Jenny: Um, okay....
-----------------------

Guy #3: So, Sally, what do you do?
My friend, Sally: I'm in Pharmacy at UofT, I'll be done in a year. Pretty pumped!
Guy #3: Oh, yeah?
My friend, Sally: What about yourself?
Guy #3: Um..... well, you see, I'm actually a co-owner of a major, huge, large corporation here in Toronto.
My friend, Sally: Oh, which one?
Guy #3: Well, it's a major corporation that deals with investments and banks and such. I get to fly all over the world. I have my own private jet since I'm an assets manager, you see. And I handle all the private accounts.
My friend, Sally (skeptical): Oh, yea? And you're pretty young, that sounds awesome. Where did you go to school?
Guy #3: Yes, it is. And, I attended McMaster University's Rotman School of Business.
My friend, Sally (rolls her eyes): You mean UOFT's Rotman School? McMaster doesn't have a business school.
Guy #3 (nervously): Oh... crap, yeah.
----------------------

Guy #4: So, what are you up to for the summer now that you're done your Masters?
Me: Just taking it easy, before I go to school in September.
Guy #4: What are you doing in September?
Me: I'm going to law school! Pretty excited. What about you? What do you do?
Guy #4: Oh.. law school, eh? Um... I'm, um, I'm actually the new owner of a business set to gain about a million dollars next year.
Me: What?!
Guy #4: Yes, I'm starting a new business that should be bought over by Amazon.
Me: Oh.... (*thinks to myself* this doesn't make any sense)
Guy #4: I'll be working for a Fortune 500 company soon. And plus, I'll be heading to medical school in September, so I'm planning to be a neurosurgeon. I'll be going to Princeton Medical School.
Me (Ivy League spidey senses on alert): Um, Princeton doesn't have a medical school. Or any professional school, for that matter.
Guy #4: *silence*
---------------------------

Do we see a pattern starting to emerge? After our night at Rockwood, Jenny and I have come up with a new term: Credential Inflators.

We laugh about it all the time (incessantly, almost). But, it's true, no? We've seen this happen so often - to our friends, to us. It's almost a common occurrence, in fact. That learning about a prospective love interest's education is a topic that can make someone back off, to even feel angry or insecure, or lead someone to lie blithely about their own education or occupation. Like the last two guys above. Hence, the term Credential Inflator.

You know what I'm talking about.

Like.

"Hi Sarah, my name is Bob. Oh, you're in Pharmacy at UofT? Well, I'm a cardiovascularmortologist at the Toronto Medical Centre Hospital. I'm a doctor of brains and hearts and legs. I'm the bestest best doctor. And I went to Harvard Medical School. I have lots of credentials. Please like me."

Oh. *face palm*

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT? BE YOURSELVES!!

We've noticed this happen a lot. Men or women back off from a potential love interest once education comes into play. Really? Really.

But, here's the thing.

As my dear friend Mary (again, fake name!) puts it, "You can be a jerk with one degree. And you can be a jerk with five degrees. There's more to a love interest than credentials."

So true, M. So true.

Obviously, from the above stories and scenarios, a couple of themes reveal themselves. Scenarios where my friends were called out for being "too good" for certain men because of their education OR my friends being subjected to men inflating their credentials in order to look like a valuable suitor/potential significant other.

Oh, boy. If there's anything that annoys me more, it's the above two scenarios. Really? Picking on someone for not responding to your lame pickup line by accusing them of being elitist because of their education? What if she just doesn't like you? Like, what if she just genuinely doesn't hit it off with you? And, secondly, really? Inflating your job position or education to look good for a girl? I understand you're doing so because you like her, but that's not cool either. Not cool. Especially WHEN YOU'RE BLATANTLY LYING! Like the last two guys in the scenarios above.

But, I'll be the first to admit it. We can be guilty of looking at credentials all too carefully, if you know what I mean. School? Profession? Education? Income? Family? There's that infamous list. Don't scoff, you know these have crossed your mind.

And in this grad life of ours, going through life as 20-somethings, with the reality of "settling down" closer than when it was when we were teenagers, you tend to think of these things, no?

But, here's the thing. Credentials can be part of the picture if you want it to be. But, you know. When you get right down to it, it isn't the ENTIRE picture. You don't have to bank chiefly on credentials or being a certain profession to be appealing. Education is one thing - but being a good person that someone genuinely wants to get to know, that someone would want to pursue a relationship with, is completely another.

And, so, back to stories of my friends and I's experiences up. Guys, really? Backing off from getting to know a girl because she has more degrees than you do? You can call her educated, but she isn't stupid enough to let go of a great guy if he doesn't have the education she does. It isn't all about the education. And, on the flip side. Guys, really? Lying or inflating your education and/or career to look good for a girl? Really? Have more self-respect than that. What happened to being honest?

The lessons here? Let me go a little Aesop on you, friends.

Be yourselves.

To the MEN reading this post: Don't let your credentials, her credentials (or lack thereof) make you hesitate from getting to know a girl you're interested in. If you feel insecure about not having the "education" she does, or if you feel like she doesn't have the "education" you think you'd want in a girl, just take a chance anyway. Throw those insecurities aside. Get to know her first. And go ahead and get to know her beyond those typical "requirements" you have in a partner. You may be surprised at what you find.

To the WOMEN reading this post: Girls, I know there's that saying where we shouldn't "settle." And, of course, if you aren't completely into your prospective admirer, then, fine, backing off is totally understandable. But, what if you actually meet a really, really awesome prospective partner? Someone you'd actually love to get to know? Are you really going to let them go because they aren't a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, etc? Don't regret it and let them get away. Take a chance. It's as easy as agreeing to a coffee date. And if it doesn't work out, then, hey, at least you tried. But, I feel like we need to be more open-minded (myself included), beyond those strict superficial "requirements" we usually have in a partner.

Love is more than just someone's profession. Love is more than where someone went to school. Love is more than just someone's income bracket. When you look for a partner, you don't engage in a relationship just because of their education or income (unless you're a, well, gold digger, obviously), right?

You want to love the actual person, not where their diploma came from. Because at the end of the day, you come home to someone you love. You don't come home to a credential.

So, be yourselves. Be your wonderful, kind, normal, thoughtful selves. Education is one thing - but in a prospective love interest, boyfriend/girlfriend, life partner, it isn't the only issue on the table. Showing yourself to be genuine, interesting, and nice person matters more than your profession.

Your heart, your personality, and your actions, speak more about you than a university degree ever will.

Remember that the next time someone catches your eye, yea?

"I think if I've learned anything about friendship, it's to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don't walk away, don't be distracted, don't be too busy or tired, don't take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff."
— Jon Katz

"If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain."
— Emily Dickinson

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance."
— Oscar Wilde

The Ripe Old Age of 20-Something - "Why Aren't You Married Yet?!?!"

Hi, friends! I've been MIA the last couple of weeks, especially since my New York trip. I'm sorry! I've been holed up at home trying to finish this thesis, with no room to blog, to eat, to blog, to breathe. But, thank God, it's almost done. I'm so glad it's almost done. I hand in my draft this week. And not a minute too soon, since I'm starting to lose grip on my sanity, I'm telling you.

Anyway. I'm taking a break from editing my thesis to mention something that happened over the weekend. It was an.... interesting encounter.

So, my parents and I were at a social function. It was fun, it was great, the food was good (that's always important. Who else makes a beeline for the canapés? Anyone?). And, as per usual, as my parents and I mingled, I was asked what I was doing in school, where I go to school, etcetera.

And, as I did, the following conversation occurred between myself and a middle-aged couple - with a number of people within earshot. Mr. A and Mrs. A are in their mid-40s, with a couple of teenage children.

Mr. A: So, Barbara, are you almost done your Masters?
Me: Yes, I'll be done in 2 weeks!
Mr. A: Oh, I see. But... how old are you now?
Me: I'm 23 years old.
Mr. A: Don't you turn 24 years old soon?
Me: Well... yes. In a few weeks.
Mr. A: So, you're 24 years old. And you're still going to law school after?
Me: Well... yes.
Mr. A: So how old will you be when you're done?
Me: I'll be 27 years old.
Mr. A: (a little condescendingly, a little knowingly, a little concerned): Oh.. I see.
Me: Why do you ask?
Mr. A: Well.... you know... you're getting old. Shouldn't you be getting married soon? Why waste another 3 years in school? In the Philippines, girls your age are already married with kids.
Me (looking for an exit, trying to be polite): Oh... okay.
Mrs. A: Don't you even have a boyfriend yet?
Me (desperately trying to find my way out of the convo): Um... no. I've been busy with school.
Mr. A: Well, you know. You're getting old. It's something to consider.
Me: *splashes water on his face*

Haha. Kidding. Okay. That last line didn't happen. I eventually spotted my parents and excused myself from the conversation, more baffled than anything. And a little irritated, I'll admit. Am I really, really that old? In this grad life of ours, are we really at that age where we're already hounded about marriage? Hello, the 19th century called. It wants its life back.

Because. Wow. Way to make a 23-year old feel like a spinster, no? As I stood, listening to Mr. A's rant above, the following thoughts immediately crossed my mind: Mr. A, this should not be happening. Comments implying that something is wrong with a woman if they're not married by their mid-20's should not be happening. And most importantly, belittling someone's pursuit of education in favour of marriage isn't very tactful, bee tee double yew.

I shouldn't be introducing you all to my ten cats and twenty parakeets until I'm at least done law school with a job to throw myself into. (Although, when I do acquire said animals, I promise to upload pictures to this blog. Wink wink). Anyway, sarcasm aside, I'm not an old maid, folks. Please get a grip. At least, by my standards anyway.

After that conversation, I had to take a step back and remind myself that I'm not a minority. That I'm one among many friends who want to finish their education (multiple degrees, if desired), who want to travel, to work abroad, to start their own businesses, to experience life ---- before even considering settling down the way Mr. A implied above.

And, from my perspective anyway, there's nothing wrong with wanting to experience life as a 23-year old without the worries of a family to support and a mortgage pay, right? That's for a few years down the road. Not now. And, if we don't feel led to, if we don't desire to, we shouldn't be in such a hurry. Age shouldn't dictate when we want to "settle down."

Is that really so wrong?

That's my own mantra, anyway.

But, after a few days, and a more stable blood pressure rate later, I have to admit something.

Because, okay. Though the conversation irritated me, I understand where Mr. and Mrs. A were coming from, and I respect what they have to say. And I'm not talking about being a good little Asian girl and respecting my elders' opinions (although there's probably some of that thrown in there, let's be real). I respect that, while their opinions aren't in line with my own, I know many people think differently from me. And I accept that.

Taking a step back from my annoyance, I completely respect what they have to say.

Because, like. On some level, I understand where they're coming from. I know that sounds ridiculous, a little crazy. I'm spewing out all these ideas about choice, and experiencing life, but in other cultures and contexts, I accept that I actually am an old maid.

Because, let me put this into context. Mr. and Mrs. A, along with their teenage children, only arrived to Canada a few months ago. From the Philippines. Where, like he says above, it's true - a number of girls my age already have families, married for several years. I don't think they've been in Canada long enough to absorb or understand how different North American approaches to "settling down" are.

I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. A's 16-year old daughter later that evening, and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Are you excited for high school in Canada?
The A's Daughter: Yes, I am. I really like science.
Me: Oh, do you have an idea of what you'd like to do in university?
The A's Daughter: Yes, I want to be a doctor. To go into medicine.
Me: Oh, I see! That's great!
The A's Daughter (glancing at me significantly): But, Ate Barbara (Filipino endearing term for older sister), unlike you, I want to be married when I'm 24 years old.

Ohh, snap! Daughter taking after Daddy, no? Bless your heart, sweetheart. Thanks for your concern. Oh, and medical school and marriage by the time you're 24 years old? Erm. Speaking on behalf of a number of friends in medical school right now.... well, no comment. Good luck with that. Keep me posted.

I always wondered why Asian families pushed their daughters to be married so early, particularly in the Philippines, China, Korea, Japan, etc. But, the thing is... 20-something isn't early. It can also be considered late. Very late. Getting married at 18 years old isn't uncommon in other parts of the world. And while conversations like the one above may irritate us, we should probably put ourselves in check before we judge. We might think they're way off base - but they're acting on what they think is common sense too, you know?

I don't think my conversation with Mr. and Mrs. A is just an example of different generations clashing, or a random difference in opinion regarding that oh-so-sensitive topic of marriage. I think it's also a clash of cultural expectations. And I don't think such cultural expectations are wrong, per say. Just different from what we're used to. And, growing up in Canada, we might think what they say is wrong, debasing, and even insulting. But they're acting on what they think is common sense. And cultural common sense isn't necessarily wrong, right?

I guess I'm saying - before getting offended by these kinds of comments (and, let's face it, in this grad life, as we continue life as 20-somethings, we're sure to get these kinds of comments as we get older, especially from older crowds who think we should get married ASAP), take a step back and see where these people are coming from.

Don't get offended right away - understand them instead. And politely decline and turn down their hints to "settle down" or, uh, their requests for you to "meet their sons" (*face palm*). There's nothing wrong with saying no, saying you'd rather concentrate on school for now, doing it without irritation.

So, Mr. A., lay off calling me an old maid, and I'll help your daughter buy her MCAT study guides when the time comes, deal?

Life would be so much easier if we just understood each other a little better.

"Accept who you are; and revel in it."
— Mitch Albom (Tuesdays with Morrie)

"We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."
— Carlos Castaneda

"I wouldn't describe myself as lacking in confidence, but I would just say that - the ghosts you chase, you never catch."
— John Malkovich

Why Asian Sons Live (Keep Living) At Home - Why The Hate?!

I don't know why I keep blogging about Asian people. It just worked out that way, I guess. Last post about Asian people for awhile, I promise. *peace sign*

Okay, so, let me tell you about something that bothers me.

And bear with me here.

About a year ago, I was hanging out at a friend's house. No big deal. I think we were having a Games Night of some sort. But, anyway. It was an evening where I was hanging out with some of my friend's friends, who were a bit older than me. Most of these individuals were in their mid/late twenties. I think the oldest guy there was about 28. Which, whatever. I didn't mind. They were cool people. And it was a fun night.

But, ever meet certain people who just rub you the wrong way? I was chatting with one of the guys sitting near me, and he was telling me about how he had just bought his own place. A condo downtown, you know? Awesome. It's always nice to hear people getting places downtown.

But, this is when I started getting annoyed. Aside from the fact that I already privately thought he was a cocky, self-indulgent narcissist, he leaned over and started talking about a mutual friend of ours. In the absolute worst way possible.

Our mutual friend is in his late 20s. He's a really nice guy. He`s Chinese. A little quiet. But really cool. He works downtown, plays sports, into video games. The usual. But, you see. Here's the thing. Mutual Friend still lives at home with his parents.

So Cocky Narcissist (hereafter known as CN) leans over and says, "What is it about Asian men living at home even when they're older? The guy is 27 years old. Why doesn't he move out? I always notice this with my Asian friends, I don't understand it. That's weird, man. And kind of gross."

I had to resist the urge to lean over and smack him.

Here`s another story. I have another friend in his late 20s. Pretty cool guy. I`ve known him for years. Our families are friends. He`s Filipino. Etcetera. He works downtown, plays sports. He`s into boxing, video games. The usual. But, again. Here`s the thing. Friend lives at home with his parents. And has no plans on moving out.

Except, he`s been getting tremendous flak from the guys at work. Apparently, it`s "weird" that he doesn`t have his own place now that he`s older. Why aren`t you moving out already? You`re 28 years old, why don`t you live on your own? Why do Asian men tend to live at home longer than they're quote on quote "supposed to"?

By all means, I know this "living at home" business isn`t a racial thing. I know this can be an issue with non-Asian 20-somethings in general, men or women. But, for the sake of specificities, cultural implications, and focus for this blog post, I`ll deal with Asian men for now. And, mostly for the sake of dealing with the comments of the above mentioned CN, I`ll deal with Asian men for now.

In this grad life of ours, as we grow up, and many of us move away from home, I notice that we tend to pass (often negative) judgement on those who still live with their parents. Unemployed? Lazy? Gluttons who mooch off their parents? You know it crossed your mind. And I find that this sort of judgement is, at times, harsher on men.

But, see, sometimes actual reality is far from that judgement.

Let me clarify and explore a few issues here.

First, I'm not surprised (though nevertheless annoyed) that people make this a gender issue. Why zero in on men? If a 28 year old woman still lives with her parents, would it still be this much of an issue? The individuals I mentioned above don't seem to be harassing women in their late 20s about moving out, why are men being pressured to move out instead? Particularly by their friends? Is it some kind of "man thing" to have your own condo by the time you're 28 years old?

Oh, god. Please. Spare me the gender specific responsibilities. I already get enough flak from people who think I shouldn't go to law school because I'm a girl.

Second, and more pertinent to what I want to focus on today, I was initially surprised (or maybe not?) that people make this a cultural issue. Like I said above, isn't the move-out-you're-getting-old issue pertinent to any 20-something, regardless of cultural background? Yet, I've started to notice that people tend to assume that Asians are more likely to live at home in their later 20s than their non-Asian counterparts. Is there some truth to this?

And, in response to CN's comments above, are Asian men more likely to live at home in their late 20s (versus non-Asian male counterparts)? And if so, why?

Well, let's try to answer that.

Because, well, it`s funny. I find it ironic that my friend described above gets flak from his coworkers about moving out, yet doesn't hear a word of it from his parents. You`d think it would be the other way around, no? That his parents would kick him out because he's older, self-sufficient, and therefore ready to move out? Yet, from what I`ve witnessed with my own friends and family (and, uh, I have a lot of Asian friends), Asian parents don`t tend to mind if their 20-something son still lives at home with them. Even when they've reached their 30s.

In response to CN's comments above....

The truth is, Mom and Dad don't mind if he stays home. He may have a job, a steady income, and with the capacity to move out - but, he wants to live at home. And he most likely will for another little while, until he finds a reason to move out (i.e. job location, school, or perhaps just an urge for independence). Of course, if their son wants to move out, his parents wouldn't stop him. But, in general, I don`t think I`ve heard a story where Asian parents harass their sons to move out simply because of his age or because he has a steady income.

I have a 30 year old friend. Asian. Male. Still living with his parents. Perhaps even until he gets married. And both parties are completely content with the arrangement.

Some people find that disgusting. Or disturbing. I find it normal. His friends, of course, make fun of him mercilessly for living with his parents when he's clearly an adult. He makes good money. He has a steady job. So why doesn't he move out, you know?

We tend to assume that people live at home with their parents because they have no other choice. That they don't have the income to move out, that they just don't have the ability (yet) to independently buy their own property. That they would rather live elsewhere than home. (And sure, in many cases, this could totally be the reason why they stay at home). But the thing is, others who have the ability to be self-sustaining have a choice. And sometimes, they choose to live with their parents. Because they want to.

Can't you be independent and live with your parents? Can't you have a job, pay for your meals, pay for your clothing (or whatever independence entails) and stick close to your family?

Is that such a foreign concept?

I hesitate to make this a cultural thing. But I kind of, sort of, will. I think the pressure to move out for 20-something Asians is lower in Asian families, simply because of the huge emphasis placed on collectivity and family. To put it bluntly, culturally, I've noticed that many Asian parents see their children living with them until marriage (and even beyond that). Of course, if their kids want to move out, they wouldn`t stop them. If their son or daughter wants to move downtown for work purposes, or for other reasons, they wouldn't stop them. But, until their children make that choice, or until it's absolutely necessary, Asian parents quite rarely kick their children out of the house simply because the closeness of family will always come first. We've heard enough about Confucianism.

In response to CN's comments....

I don't think our mutual friend is weird at all. Sure, he has a steady job. Sure, he could move out if he wanted to. But he doesn't because his family is closer than you know. Because he loves his sisters and wants to watch them grow up. Because he would rather stick around and live with the comfort of his parents. He'll move out when he wants to, got that?

Reader, does this sound weird to you? From what I`ve witnessed growing up, it`s completely normal to see Asian men and women in their late 20s still living with their parents at home until the day they get married or move in with a significant other. It wasn`t until people started pointing out its "weirdness" that I started thinking about the cultural implications of all this. I've stressed enough times on this blog how important and emphasized family values are to Asian families. On keeping the family together.

So, why the hate and ridicule placed on Asian men (or, I guess, to a lesser extent, women) who live at home? If they choose to do so, is it really our place to pass negative judgement? It irritates me, it really does.

Third, on the practical level, on the whole, living at home is the cheaper, no? So, why the hate on living at home when you're older? If it saves money, cut these guys some slack, yea?

So the next time you encounter a friend (or, anyone, really) living at home - think twice before you judge them as lazy, good-for-nothing, unemployed sloths. There may be other reasons why they live with their parents. To some people, family is more important than you know.

But, anyway, I guess that`s my semi-defense of 20-something Asian men still living at home. I understand you, friends. I really do!

"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich."
- Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford, "Identity Crisis," M*A*S*H

"Our most basic instinct is not for survival, but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."
- Paul Pearshall

"The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you."
- Kendall Hailey, The Day I Became an Autodidact

"Why Asian Mothers Are Superior" & Why I Love My Asian Mother - Reflections on Amy Chua

Awhile back, I blogged about Asian parenting and my momentary exasperation with the Asian community's emphasis on image in order to be perceived as successful.

Honestly, this was one of the few aspects that used to annoy me about the Filipino community. I've grown up watching my parents' friends perpetually talk up their children to make sure their children looked successful. Back then, to me, it looked like the success, beauty, and ability of their children was validation of their worth as a parent. And I was sorely annoyed.

Image and success. It seemed to be everything.

And so, for their children, there was pressure to, basically, look and be perfect. You're always consciously aware of what people think about you: from the clothes you're wearing, to the type of designer purse (or lack thereof) slung over your shoulder, to where you are at in school, what career path you're taking, how your hair is styled, how you bow and shake hands with elders, etc. You exemplify how your parents have raised you.

Everything I'm describing sounds enormously superficial. And I admit, to an outsider, it really does. Why do you think knock-off Gucci purses are all the rage in Hong Kong? Why do you think Japan and Korea have the highest rates of plastic surgery in the world?

Because success and perfection. It seems to be everything.

But, as I grew up, I realized the true motivations behind the behaviour of this particular community.

To someone who hasn't grown up in this community, the strict parenting I'm about to describe sounds ridiculous and out of hand. But, you know. There's more to the Asian community than what meets the eye. And, while I complain about it sometimes, if you dig a little deeper, you learn something about why the community functions the way it does and why Asians parent the way they do.

So. Ever wondered why this community functions the way it does?

Image and success. It seems to be everything. But, why?

Here's the thing. I'm glad I was brought up the way I was. This is the world, the community I've grown up in. And, personally, I'm used to it. I'm accustomed to the rhythm and routine of social functions in the Asian community.

But, let me ask you a question. Have you ever wondered why the Asian community places so much emphasis on perfection? Ever wondered why Asian parents emphasize so greatly the value and concept of success?

Confucian values aside, I think Asian parents act the way they do because they know their kids can be the best if they tried their hardest to be the best. Emphasis on Try and the value of Hard Work. And they'll push them to perfection because they know they're capable of it.

Wait. Disclaimer. I'm not saying that Asians are ethnically superior because they're the only race that can be perfect. God, no. Don't misinterpret me.

I think the MacLean's article published a couple of months back speaks volumes. Where complaints were being lodged that the University of Toronto was "TOO ASIAN." CLICK HERE to read the article. Trust me, I know all about how UofT is too Asian. Ever been to Sidney Smith Hall? These Asians. They're everywhere.

I know the value of strict Asian parenting. I know it, because I've lived it. I've grown up with parents who didn't accept anything less than an A on a report card. Who put me in piano lessons when I was six years old. Who put me in ballet lessons when I was eight years old. Who made me practice multiplication tables, cursive writing, when I was in kindergarten. Who gave me extra homework assignments. Who made me practice said piano and ballet, even when I wanted to quit.

They knew I could do it. And so, they pushed me to do so. And, quite frankly, I'm glad they did. I was taught that I needed to try. That I needed to work hard. I was taught that I shouldn't be lazy. And, honestly? I'm so glad they did. I wouldn't be where I am today if I wasn't pushed the way I was.

Strict Asian parenting is a strange concept for individuals who didn't grow up in this community. But, let me tell you. There's method behind that perceived madness. Asian parents instill their love for their children by pushing them to work hard - because wishing and hoping for their success is a reflection of the hope and unconditional love they have for their children.

Pushing for success. It's a reflection of love. Ever think of it that way? That success is something parents want for you because they know you're capable of it?

So, are you yelling at me yet? People who haven't experienced this are going to freak out. I know it. I know what's been said behind my back. That I work too much. That I go to the library too much. Complaining that I shouldn't get ahead with my readings or my work. Encouraging me to skip class. Oh, really? Frankly, I don't care what you say about me behind my back. Because, sorry. I couldn't hear you over my law school acceptance letters.

I said above that image is everything. And it is. For a community that knows they can attain the best, that image of success and perfection, if the values of hard work and trying are exercised, if you try your best to pursue it.

This is a reflection of how I perceive the Asian community I've witnessed and grown up with. Others may have different perceptions, but these are mine.

Which brings me to a brief reflection on Amy Chua's article "Why Asian Mothers Are Superior." To read the famed article that stirred parenting wars all over the world, CLICK HERE. Honestly, I think the sexist and racial attacks on Chua are ridiculous. Yet, the scathing attacks on the motivations behind her strict parenting is something I disagree with even more.

So, here's the thing. I love Amy Chua. And, this article? If you're about to yell at me about how ridiculous it is, I have a few words for you: READ HER WHOLE BOOK. This article is merely an excerpt from her parenting memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. She depicts her failures as a parent and, most importantly, the need to instill Asian values in the education system today.

Personally, I wholeheartedly agree. To read her op-ed on US education today, CLICK HERE.

Amy Chua has been criticized worldwide for her strict parenting methods. She's received death threats. She's received numerous hateful comments and emails telling her what a horrible parent she's been. Commentators have decided her children are mindless robots, that they'll grown up psychologically impaired. That they aren't normal because they grew up this way.

Um. Okay. Almost 90% of people I've talked to about this article have admitted that they grew up in a similar environment.

Is an environment with high expectations so evil? For some people, it is.

Parenting touches a nerve for a lot of people. Especially crazy moms who think their way to parent is the only way to parent. Or for people who grew up in a different environment and think strict parenting is for nutjobs. (See: attacks on Amy Chua).

I'm not saying everything Chua did was right. I'm not saying the specific tactics she exercised should be followed to a T. I'm saying that I understand the motivations behind her actions. I understand why she parented the way she did.

Like Chua's own children, I'm glad I was given high expectations by parents very similar to Chua. Because I was taught that I could reach them if I put in the hard work to do so.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

When I was seven years old, crying that I hated playing the piano, yelling that I hated memorizing piano music because it was freakin boring, my mother made my practice piano for an hour everyday so I could memorize those classic pieces. Some people call rote learning ineffective. Others call it child abuse. But, to me? It worked. And I'll forever be grateful for being pushed to memorize piano music that I truly did love but was too lazy to practice if I hadn't been pushed to. I would have regretted not knowing how to play it, knowing I had the chance to.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

Two years ago, my mom took a day off work from her busy schedule and took the subway with me down to the University of Toronto campus. It was the day I was writing the LSAT. The test that would determine whether I was going to law school. Prior to signing up for the LSAT, I didn't want to take it. I dragged my feet for a year. But, my mother. She knew I could do it if I tried hard enough. And on that day, my mother. She sat at a nearby coffee shop for four hours while I wrote my test, waiting for me, giving me the support I needed when I walked out of the test room. She knew I could do it, even when I didn't believe in myself.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

When I was younger, I took a ballet test and failed miserably on my first try. I was eight years old. After failing, I wanted to quit ballet. My ballet teacher told me I had terrible posture and needed to fix it. I was humiliated, and I wanted to run away. I begged my mom to let me quit. But, my mother. She firmly told me to finish what I started. That I needed to do my best, because she knew I could be the best if I really tried. And a week later, I trudged back to ballet school, re-took the test, and months later, eventually fixed my posture. She wouldn't let me quit. And I'm glad she did that. Without my mother, I wouldn't have fallen in love with ballet.

I could go on, but I won't. This post is getting way too long.

Say what you want about strict Asian parenting. But, for me. It's a community I will fiercely defend and protect no matter the criticisms. Because it's pushed me to be what I am today. And I will forever be grateful for it.

"All the so-called "secrets of success" will not work unless you do."
- Author Unknown

"I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it."
- Thomas Jefferson

Your Girlfriend, Your Boyfriend, & Your Friends - Finding The Balance In Relationships

As we approach life in our mid-20s, I'm sure we've all noticed that we live in a world where our friends are starting to get engaged, or are settling into relationships they expect will last their lifetimes (clearly, we aren't 18 years old anymore).

I turn 24 years old in a month, and I've sure as heck noticed the engagement phenomenon. And the "coupling-up" phenomenon. You know, when the "I" turns into a "we" and you show up at every social event together. I get it. We're at an age where people are starting to realize that, university has ended (well, for most of us, anyway. Boo to me), we've settled into the working world, we've grown up, we're adults, and that, for some us, come a few years, we'll be settling down and starting families of our own.

Erm. Side note. I can't believe I turn 24 in a month. But, moving on.

Anyway, I understand that people are "looking." Lavalife doesn't make all that money for nothing. And I understand that, once people find someone they actually really, really like, they'll want to spend all their time with them. Spending all your time on the phone, texting each other at work, making weekend plans. I get it. And, I'm happy for you. There's nothing I love more than seeing my friends find a significant other they truly, truly care about.

But, let me share a story with you, my friends. A story that, I'm sure, many reading this can relate to.

This is a true story of a friend of a friend of a friend. Generic enough that, really, it could be about anyone. This is a story of a group of friends who have known each other for years. Since high school, in fact. A close group of friends, you know? The kind you'll know for the rest of your life, the kind who have lived your most embarrassing moments with you. But, you see, one day, things changed. Because, one day, one of these friends met a girl. A girl he grew to know and love. And as he began a relationship with said girl, he stopped seeing his closest friends. He stopped taking their calls, stopped answering their text messages. He just stopped. Cut off everything. And, it wasn't even on purpose, really. He just wanted to spend all his time with his girlfriend, you know? Said friends tried all they could to contact him, to get to know his new girlfriend. But, this friend. He stopped hanging out with them, stopped attending social events, dinners, lunches. He spent all his time with said girl and her friends that, two years later, upon his break-up with said girl, he picked up his phone and realized that... he had no one to call. He had grown apart from his closest friends, he had estranged himself so much for the sake of a relationship that eventually ended.

And so, here's another true story. Of a friend of a friend of a friend, of course. A story of a group of close girlfriends. They've known each other for years, you know. The kind of girlfriends who have known you long enough that they attended those horrid middle school dances with you. And yet, one day, things changed towards the end of their university careers. One of these girls met a boy. And, like all these stories go, she grew to know him, and to love him. And, just like the boy in the story above, she grew distant from her closest girlfriends. Spending everyday with said boyfriend. She stopped hanging out with her girlfriends, stopped taking their calls. She spent all her time with him and his friends. It wasn't on purpose, really. She was just so consumed and invested in her relationship that she just, I guess, forgot about her friends. And, upon their break-up three years later, she picked up the phone and realized that... she had no one to call. She had ignored her friends for the sake of a relationship that eventually ended.

Friends, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I've heard these stories time and time again. That a friend spends wayyyy too much time with his girlfriend or her boyfriend. That a friend never comes to parties anymore because he/she is hanging out with his/her significant other instead. They don't come to dinners, lunches, annual camping trips. I have friends who have pushed their friends away to the point that they basically become strangers. Everything you are, everything you do is about your significant other. Nothing else.

Everything is a "we." The individuality is gone. And the closest, most treasured friendships grow distant and eventually fall apart because these individuals are so consumed in their relationships with their significant other.

Basically, there's no balance.

Now, I'm not disapproving of having a significant other. God, no. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not sitting here as a spinster grad student (god, I hope not, anyway) disapproving of young love. (Although I do have the granny glasses to pull it off!)

What I'm saying is, simply put. Don't forget about your friends.

The thing is, I completely understand where the two people in the stories above are coming from. I completely understand what it's like to be in a relationship with someone you care about. That your schedules revolve around each other, that you talk on the phone everyday, that you text each other while you're at work. I understand that. And that's normal, of course. And for those of you who have found this relationship, I'm sincerely happy for you.

But, life is complicated. And finding that perfect balance between spending time with your girlfriend/boyfriend and your friends can be difficult. And it's especially difficult when you and your significant other have separate groups of friends. Who don't know each other. Who don't hang out together.

I have no answers for you. Just plain, old, vague advice. Find that balance in your relationships. You can have your dates and hang out with your friends too, you know? Introduce your significant other to your friends. Hang out together. Party together. Have dinners, lunches, snacks, outings, together.

Because, you see, while you've found a girl or a boy you think you may want to spend the rest of your life with, there's something you may forget. That, if handled with care, you'll be spending the rest of your life with your friends too.

Don't carelessly forget about them. Don't let them become strangers.

I've seen too many friendships fall apart because of the above reasons. And, as we grow older, and it becomes increasingly difficult to make new friends in these busy lives we lead, treasuring the ones we have is essential.

These are the people who want to get to know your significant other. These are the people who you'll call to excitedly tell about promotions at work. Who want to be there when big changes in your life occur. These are the people you'll call when (if you choose) you get engaged. When you move into your first home. These are the people you'll call on those Christmases down the road, who you'll hang out with on New Years Eves in the future. These are the people you've grown up with, and, perhaps, you'll grow old with.

We've lived a sufficient amount of 20-ish years where we can say that many people have walked in and out of our lives, drifting in and drifting out. But, we have close groups of friends that haven't walked out.

And, if these friendships handled with care, perhaps they never will.

Find that balance. It's more important than we realize.

"If there is ever a tomorrow when we are not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think, but most important of all, even if we are apart, I'll always be with you."
- Christopher Robin to Pooh

"I have friends in overalls whose friendships I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world."
- Thomas A. Edison

“Keep away from those who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you believe that you too can become great.”
- Mark Twain

Journey To Vietnam - A Friend's Summer With TeachOverseas

When I was eleven years old, my parents and I moved to Mississauga. And, being a shy, socially awkward pre-teen, I was beyond nervous about starting Grade 6 at a brand new school where I knew absolutely no one.

But, I didn't need to worry. On my first day of school, I sat by myself at the corner of the gym to eat lunch with one of my (many) current books, too shy to make any new friends. Yet, as I unwrapped my sandwich and cracked open my book, I looked up and saw a girl approach me.

She sat beside me, gave me a friendly smile, and cheerfully told me her name was Liz. She asked if she could have lunch with me, and over that hour, I made my first friend in middle school. I found out that she also loved to read, loved horses, horseback riding. We also loved the same TV shows. I was so relieved I made a friend that day.

Liz eventually became one of my best friends in middle school. And we went on to go to high school together, went through the IBT program together, taking many of the same classes in high school. We agonized over Grade 9 math together, spent a memorable year in Grade 11 Law, and even got ready for prom together with all our friends in our last year of high school.

Liz and I also went on to be university roommates in our first year at UofT, in our beloved Margaret Addison Hall (Vic College, we miss you!), and spent the next four years tearing our hair out, trying to get through university in one piece.

She has been a wonderful friend in the thirteen years I've known her. And, this summer, she's embarking on a trip to Vietnam, from June to August, with the TeachOverseas program.

To learn more about her trip, follow her blog by CLICKING HERE.

A brief summary of her trip from Liz herself:

"This summer (June 19 – August 3) I will be going with a group of 6 other teachers to Vietnam to work with Vietnamese students of all ages teaching conversational English. I will be going through a Christian organization called TeachOverseas (teachoverseas.org). The goal of this trip is not only to teach conversational English, which is a much needed and sought after skill to Vietnamese students of all ages, but also to develop friendships with these students and hopefully to be able to share the gospel with them through those friendships." - Excerpt from Journey To Vietnam

Liz is currently looking for supporters for this trip, and I encourage all of you to check out her website! She'll be spending about three months in Vietnam, putting those skills she's learned in teacher's college to the test, and building friendships with students who are lucky to have her as a teacher. Furthermore, she is also currently accepting donations to fund this trip abroad, so please click on the link above to learn about her trip and to help out, if you can :)

Have an amazing trip, friend!

"A good friend knows all your best stories, a best friend has lived them with you."

To A Wonderful Mom - Happy Mothers Day!

Dear Mom,

I know you read my blog.

And so, here I am, hoping you will be pleasantly surprised to read a blog post dedicated just for you. Because, I'm here to wish you and to thank you for everything you've done for me. And for every mother reading this post, I hope you've all been having a wonderful, memorable Mother's Day.

And, to make sure I can head off and make this Mother's Day especially memorable, I'll try to make this blog post brief.

I know it isn't said enough, but, I'd like to say thank you. For being the mother you are, and the mother I know. For teaching me that love is both feeling and action. That love can be unconditional, sincere, timeless.

Thanks for always knowing what was best for me. And for your support, for patience, encouragement, and love.

Like, for instance. Thanks for teaching me how to write in perfect cursive writing when I was six years old. No, really. I'm seriously thankful for this. I have you to thank for my legible handwriting growing up - cursive or otherwise. And, thanks for teaching and drilling me with multiplication tables when I was just in kindergarten. And had me memorize them for a week. Because, seriously, the prep you always gave me at home helped me out with those painful math classes I hated in school.

And, thanks for always attending my school plays. And always giving a standing ovation even though I only had, like, one line. And for clapping enthusiastically even when I screwed that one line up. See: Grade 3 play where I was a pirate and cried on stage.

And, thanks for always attending my ballet classes, recitals, and tests. And thanks for hugging me and buying me ice cream when my ballet teacher reprimanded me for having "zombie arms" during practice runs of my grand jeté. I was so sad, remember? So, thanks for sitting patiently when I obsessively walked around the house with a book balanced on my head for a week, trying to correct that ballet posture. And for not flipping out when I kept asking (every hour, no less), "Is my posture better yet? Is it? Well, is it??"

Mom, you were so very patient with my random "projects." I was a strange child, clearly. Yet you were never fazed.

And, thanks for not flipping out when I quit piano the year I turned thirteen. Thanks for understanding me through my awkward, I-hate-everything-especially-piano-lessons phase.

Thank you for all the sports lessons, piano lessons, dance lessons, and all the lessons in between. They've all been valuable to me.

And, by the way, I've never mentioned this but, thanks for always teaching me from an early age what to wear, how to wear it, the designers to follow, and the ones not worth checking out. And for teaching me how to shop and for showing me what style is. Because you epitomize it.

And, thanks for staying up all night watching me on Christmas Eve when I was eight years old, sick with the stomach flu. I'm sorry I ruined Christmas for you! Thank you for always taking care of me.

Thanks for always helping me with my homework growing up. And for staying up till midnight all those nights I had a Calculus test, helping me prepare, even though you had early patients the next day.

Thanks for always feeding me the best food ever. And for cooking the best food ever.

And, about law school...

Thanks for teaching me the value of school and of my education. And the value of persistence. And for hugging me when I thought I could never get into law school. And for always believing that I would.

Thanks for setting aside a day in your busy schedule to wait for me at a coffee shop near UofT the day I wrote my LSAT. And for sitting there patiently, for four hours, doing work, as I wrote that dreaded test that would get me into law school. And for promptly encouraging me when I thought I didn't do well, taking me out to lunch to calm my worries.

Thank you for never doubting I'd get into law school. Even when I thought I had no chance.

I could go on and on about all the things I'm thankful for, but I'll stop here. This post is getting too long.

So, most of all, thank you for being a wonderful mother, a wonderful friend. Growing up, you have given me more than I've ever thanked you for. And, I promise, that I will spend the rest of my life thanking you and showing you how much I've appreciated your lifetime of unconditional patience, support. And love.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers reading this today!

Love,

Me

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."
- Tenneva Jordan

"I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life."
- Abraham Lincoln

"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother's love is not."
- James Joyce

Whatever Happened To Roald Dahl?! - Remembering Books From Our Childhood

Does anyone remember this book? Please say you do. Or at least this one? And, surely, you remember this one too, right?

Someone, please tell me you loved Roald Dahl as much as I did. I still remember sitting on the class carpet in Grade 5, listening in fascination as my teacher read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory out to us. Like, really, was he going to get that golden ticket or WHAT? And, who was that chick who kept chewing the same piece of gum all the time? I remember being so grossed out but fascinated at the same time. It was an awesome story, no?

So, a few months ago, while catching up on Skype with a friend in teacher's college at the University of Ottawa, she started complaining about how unfamiliar the children's book section is to her at all the elementary schools she had her placements at. Apparently, she and a number of teacher candidates found that a lot of the books we loved as children can't be found in many of today's elementary school libraries. At all. None of the following could be found in some elementary school libraries.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? No.

James and the Giant Peach? Nope.

The Giver? Nope. (By Lois Lowry, remember this one??)

Tuck Everlasting? Nope.

Matilda? Nope.

The Velvteen Rabbit? Nope.

A Wrinkle in Time? Nope. (By Madeline L'Engle, remember?)

Charlotte's Web? NOPE.

The Secret Garden? NOPE. I KNOW. Travesty.

The Hobbit? NO!!!

I know these books are hardly classics. And, of course, we all have different books and genres that we remember fondly, but the fact that copies of the above books are non-existent in some of today's elementary schools actually makes me really sad.

Because, you know what can be found in their libraries instead?

Apparently, there are copies upon copies of Twilight.

The entire series.

Now, I don't mean to bring on the wrath of Twihards (in fact, I call many Twihards my friends), I just want to lament the decline of 90's children's and teen fiction in today's libraries. I'm actually quite sad that the chances of a child reading The Giver is less today than they were ten years ago. They aren't life-changing, thought-provoking, classic literature, but they were books I really enjoyed when I was younger. And the fact that some kids these days won't get the chance to discover these awesome books, these unfogettable stories actually saddens me more than I thought it would.

I would assume that because new copies of these book haven't been published in years (probably for more than a decade), tattered elementary school library copies have been donated to your local Value Village, Goodwill, etc., and haven't been replaced.

Can you imagine? A student in elementary school never hearing about or getting their hands on a Roald Dahl book? Ever? They were staples back in the day.

I'm aging myself, I know. I'm old.

I may be the only one lamenting the loss of Tuck Everlasting in today's libraries, but if you share my love for 90's children's literature, at least I can rest on the fact that there are still lovers of Roald Dahl, Lois Lowry, and the like out there. Cheers to that.

And, I think I may go re-read my copy of The Giver now. Just because.

"It is astonishing how little one feels alone when one loves."
- John Bulwer

“In life and love, it is better to know and be disappointed, than to not know and always wonder.”

This Is Why "Politics" Disappoints Me

Before you go any further, I'll assure you that this isn't the post you think I'm about to write. This won't get personal. And, no, I won't be flooding this post with nonsensical, political jargon.

I just want to rant. Will you let me? Here I go.

Wait. First, I'm going to tell you a couple of stories.

ANECDOTE 1 - The Left Wing Nutjob?

A couple of weeks ago, I was out for drinks with some new friends who I didn't know too well (hence, the going out for drinks thing. A good way to get to know each other, yeah?). Anyway, one of them made a joke about my department.

"So, I heard about the Commies over there. Is it true?" they joked (but, not really joking, if you know what I mean), "How do you deal with those left wing nutjobs, anyway? God, they must be such terrible people. So unreasonable. I swear, those people are crazy. They think people are evil just because they wear suits and nice clothes. What kind of sheltered crap is that?"

Um. There are a few things wrong with this picture. Not least of these being that you're insulting my department to my face. But, let's carry on.

ANECDOTE 2 - Those Evil Capitalists?

Again, a couple of weeks ago, I was out for drinks (again) with some (other) new friends (I swear, I do have time for school). With news about a pending election, they casually asked me if I'd be voting NDP. After my hesitant reply (I have to weigh the options, obviously), they immediately froze.

"What? You're not voting orange?" one of them asked, horrified, "You're a terrible person."

And, casually, another asked, "So, what are your politics?"

After my moderate reply, he shook his head, and turned to our other friend, "Listen, I know people who think like us. We should, you know, create a club or something."

I then mentioned a friend in Economics who would be interested in something like that.

They stared at me, strangely.

"What? He doesn't think there's anything wrong with free markets?" they asked, "We can't be friends with him! What the hell? He's an evil capitalist. He must be a terrible person."

THIS IS WHY "POLITICS" DISAPPOINTS ME

Do we see a problem with these two scenarios? I do. And, ironically, these two camps of utter hypocrisy have more in common than they think they do.

My problem? Conflating a person's "politics" with the "type of person" they are. From what I've observed in the grad student community here, competing ideological camps have perceptions of each other as "Communist nutjobs" or "fancy-suit-wearing-capitalists," without getting to know them as actual people.

Conflating their "politics" with being a "terrible person"? Really?

Does anyone see a problem with these judgements? Anyone? I understand why you don't want to be someone's friend if they're actually, legitimately a jerk. But judging someone before actually getting to know them, on the basis of their political leanings? Without judging their personalities, without getting to know them as actual people? Or, for example, conflating what their parents do for a living with what type of people they are?

Like, your parents are dentists? Oh, you must be rich. Ergo, a capitalist. Ergo, can't be your friend, sucka! I need to judge you, like, right now!

Like, your father's a truck driver? Oh, you're a peasant. Ergo, radical Marxist. Ergo, can't be your friend, nutjob!

Like, I've "heard" he's an Economist. Must be a right-wing radical. Can't be his friend, nope!

Like, I've "heard" she's a Development Studies student. She must be a freaking Marxist, yo! I can't be friends with a Communist!

I'm actually sick of it. Now that I write this blog post, I don't know if its politics specifically that disappoints me. Or, rather, if it's just people themselves.

Granted, I'm guilty of this too, though. You don't want to imagine what was going through my mind during both of the above scenarios.

For people who think they're so educated, some grad students can be so incredibly close minded, no matter what "camp" they belong to. They believe so much in how they think the world should be, that they neglect another camp they should be understanding and listening to. Instead of debating or engaging or listening to each other's ideas, they close themselves off to ideological camps. Surrounding themselves with friends who ONLY think the way they do.

Both camps espouse the same elitist attitudes they accuse each other of exercising. Whose hypocritical now?

And, frankly, from what I've seen in the grad student community this year, I'm not surprised that our world is the way it is today. Why it's so full of division and hate. There's no interest in understanding each other. There's only interest in sheltering oneself with those who think the same way.

Now, I'm not saying that everyone in the grad student community thinks this way. I've met a number of friends who are so open-minded about ideology and the policies associated with each kind. But for those that don't? You cannot imagine how much this annoys me. And yet, despite my hopes, I know I'll still witness such behaviour.

And while I'm not naive enough to think that we can all come together under one ideology, one political camp (what? I know! Crazy!), I just wish we could just try to understand people before judging them and insulting them behind their backs. Understand why their "politics" is opposite from yours. Understand their logic. Understand where they're coming from.

Really, is that so hard? Or is gossiping and calling them names behind their backs just the easier option?

If grad students can't even be friends, and hate each other based on stereotypical ideological misconceptions, imagine what it's like with actual political Powers That Be?

It's disappointing, really. And so hypocritical. And, disheartening.

Grad school has taught me (among other things, of course), that people can disappoint you. In remarkable ways. Where is this love everyone keeps talking about? Because, between ideological lines, I don't see any love or understanding.

And we wonder why our world is so messed up? We don't understand each other, or even try to understand why others think they way they do. Nor do we stop and actually listen. And open our minds. If we want our world, our communities to be a better place, there's no place better to start than with ourselves.

“If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, or base temptations, of heartaches and of remorse as his own... how much kinder, how much gentler he would be.”
- William Allen White

“When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.”
- Dale Carnegie

“We are all alike on the inside”
- Mark Twain

A Message For The Ones We Will Forever Love

I don't usually go into deep-seeded details about my personal life here on this dear blog. School is enough of a topic as it is.

But today will be different. Today, I won't be ranting about school. Because sometimes, when we step back, we may realize that the important things we care about don't primarily lie with the books we spend all these hours with.

I'm 23 years old, but I've never experienced death.

I have never experienced the loss of a friend, nor have I learned how to deal with such a loss. But this changed this past weekend.

Death comes so swiftly. Too often, we think our young age connotates immortality. But, here's the thing. We're not invincible. Some of us can be plagued by sickness, by accidents, by unforeseen incidents that show us the realness of our mortality. And too often, the ones we love most, the ones we care for so dearly, swiftly leave the world without knowing how much we love them, how much we deeply cared for them.

This grad life is busy, I know. But sometimes, those assignments? They aren't the only things in the world that matter. There are people we love who matter to us. And so, tell them you love them. Please tell them. That you love them. One can never hear those words too often.

And when we lose a friend to death, the regret we feel knowing that we didn't say those words as often as we should have is a difficult reality to accept.

And so, I'll end this post with a message for a sweet, wonderful friend. A friend whose friendship I will forever remember and value.

My friend, I will miss you. For the rest of my life. I will remember you fondly, remember the years I've known you happy, and most importantly, healthy.

I'm so very sorry for not seeing you when I came home for Reading Week. The neurotic grad student in me thought she wouldn't have time to see all her friends, that she'd have time to see you the next time she came home from Queen's. I'm sorry for cancelling, friend. I'm so very sorry. And I'm sorry that we didn't have a chance to ride the #38 bus together one last time, to wait for that perpetually tardy #38 bus one last time, to complain about how we always lose our GO train tickets, how we hate admitting we watch Gossip Girl and yet we still do. And I'm sorry that we didn't have the chance to go shopping, or to discuss how Glee has gone downhill, or bunk at Muskoka together again, or go to Booster Juice, or figure out just how Blair Waldorf stays so fabulous, or to just, you know, wear our red heels simultaneously on the same Sunday morning all over again. And, most importantly, I'm sorry that I let this busy grad life think I was too busy to catch up with you. With all of you. For this, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. And I will forever regret being too engrossed in school to think about what was going on back home.

I'll remember you, always. And I will forever treasure my favourite memories with you. Because, really? Five hour band practices? Fish and chips? The gas station with the "only Asian in Northern Ontario"? Plunging the toilet for the first time in our Muskoka cabin? Getting lost in Northern Ontario trying to get to Muskoka? Oh, these good times. Friend, I'll never forget that weekend. We were attached at the hip, literally. And, in all seriousness, it was a pleasure leading Compass youth every week with you.

My dear friend, your friendship, your kindness meant very much to me, more than you will ever know. You lived a life that many would be proud of. And I'm so very happy that you're in the arms of a loving God as I write this blog post today.

And while this weekend was heartbreaking, we know we'll see you again one day. And when I do see you again, rest assured that we'll go over everything we missed out on. All the Glee, all the Blair Waldorf. We'll have eternity to discuss it all.

My dear friend, I will simply say that, I love you. From the bottom of my heart. Our five-year friendship touched my heart from the day we first met. And for the rest of my life, I will never, ever forget you. May you rest in peace.

"May The Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you.
May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace."
- Numbers 6:24

"Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."
- The Wonder Years

"Don't be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again after moments or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends."
- Richard Bach

A Message For A Past TA - From A Former Student, With Appreciation

John Travolta? In Grease? Anyone?
Ever had a TA who made an academic difference? So helpful, beyond measure?

FIVE YEARS AGO...

In my second year at UofT, I had to take a required Political Theory course. And I did. POL200 wasn't bad. Actually, I loved it. My professor, Mark Lippincott, was fantastic, and made me love theory more than I thought I would (this was a pretty big deal, since I wasn't a fan of theory to begin with).

Anyway, as with almost all my classes at UofT, because we had a class of about 400 students, we had to attend smaller tutorial groups to discuss the material. But, the thing is, POL200 was funny in regards to tutorial groups.

Because, well, tutorial attendance wasn't mandatory.

I know, right? So that meant I didn't have to go, right?

Call me a nerd. Bring it. Because, heck yeah, I still attended.

Um. I wanted to learn.

Anyway, on that first day of tutorial, I stood around the entrance, and thought it was weird that no one was standing outside the tutorial room. Usually, we're all standing around awkwardly for the previous class to vacate the room. Well, anyway, once they did, I walked inside, sat down, looked around the humongous tutorial room, and thought it was weird that the room was totally empty.

A couple of minutes later, though, a guy walked in. And sat down. Nodded at me in acknowledgement. But said nothing.

We sat there in silence for, like, 15 minutes.

You guys, I'm telling you, sitting in silence with a total stranger in an empty, enclosed space is so awkward. So awkward. It's a situation that begs for at least some small-talk.

Plus, I stare a lot. And I stared at him in fascination for a really long time (more than I usually do), because, well, he looked really familiar to me. And I mean really familiar. I couldn't figure out why I thought I knew him.

But then it hit me. Drawing on my penchant for finding people's celebrity dopplegangers, I realized that's what he was. He looked like John Travolta, circa 1978, in Grease. Yeah, really. Only he was Greek. He had the black leather jacket and white t-shirt down, complete with abnormally tight, high-waisted jeans.

Uh. Hot?

No. No, no, no.

After ten minuets of awkward silence, I thought I'd break the ice and make conversation.

"Sooo... you're in POL200, huh? What year are you in?" I started hesitantly, glancing at my watch, "And wow, our TA is really late!"

"Actually, I'm a Masters student," he replied, "And I'm, um, your TA. I'm not late at all."

Oh. Foot, meet mouth. It all made sense now. Leather-Jacket-Too-Much-Cologne-Greek-Neo-Travolta was my Political Theory TA. Fantastic. This was coming along really well! Remind me again why I decided to attend a non-mandatory tutorial?

I think he felt bad about the awkward silence. But, in truth, I realized the silence was awkward because, well, he was a little socially awkward himself. I don't think he knew how to make small time! And, well, his own conversation starter wasn't any better than mine.

"So, uh, while we wait for more people to show up... how was your weekend?" Greek NeoTravolta TA (can we just call him GNTTA?) asked, "I, uh, got really drunk at a Greek wedding. Like, it was an all-weekend wedding. I may still be hungover."

What?! Oh. TMI, GNTTA. But thanks for sharing. You were at a Greek wedding? Did it, per chance, look like this?

After a few minutes, it became apparent that, you know, no one else was showing up.

And, yeah. So there you have it. Story of my second year at UofT. I was the only one who ever showed up for my POL200 tutorial. ALL SEMESTER. And they say UofT has huge class sizes? Pffft.

Anyway, needless to say, tutorial with GNTTA was more of a tutoring session than an actual tutorial. No one ever came to class. And so, all semester, GNNTA patiently explained everything there was to know about Plato, Machiavelli, Hobbes. You know, the basics. He explained everything so well, and I'm was glad I got the run-down on Plato's Republic before, you know, the paper was due, and, well, I'd only read half the book.

On top of his awesome theory knowledge, though, GNNTA gave some pretty good academic advice. Which is why I'm writing this blog post today. He was, despite the social awkwardness and questionable choice of wardrobe, a good TA. I told him about my fear of public speaking, and therefore, why I hated participating in my other class tutorials (even though some participation marks were a massive 20%)! And why I was relieved I didn't have to engage in public speaking in his particular tutorial. Because, well, no one was there.

After this admission, I vividly remember him saying the following words on our very last tutorial:

"Why are you so scared about public speaking? And tutorial discussion? Don't doubt your intelligence. You know, I had that same problem in undergrad. And my TA back then gave me this advice. I'll pass it on to you: don't ever underestimate yourself. Don't be afraid to talk in front of others. Be confident. If you act confident, no one will ever know how scared you are."

FAST FORWARD, FIVE YEARS LATER.

I'm now a TA at Queen's.

I still hate public speaking. But I've learned to live with it.

And the other day, during my office hours, a student came in, knocking hesitantly.

After a brief chat, I realized that my student was, essentially, Mini-Me. Scared of public speaking. Scared of talking in front of other people.

And at that moment, I remembered GNTTA. And repeated those same words he said to me:

"Why are you so scared about public speaking? And tutorial discussion? Don't doubt your intelligence. You know, I had that same problem in undergrad. And my TA back then gave me this advice. I'll pass it on to you: don't ever underestimate yourself. Don't be afraid to talk in front of others. Be confident. If you act confident, no one will ever know how scared you are."

From GNNTA's former TA, to GNNTA, to me, to my student. That advice has been passed down, my friends. It might be simple advice. But it's a powerful, encouraging message for those of us suffering from that ever-present fear whenever we face the task of speaking in public, whether it's tutorial discussion or a huge presentation.

AND SO, GNNTA...

And so, GNNTA, I don't know where you are today. After that POL200 exam, you booked the heck out of that exam room for a flight out to Greece. You were a funny little fellow.

But, I'd just like to let you know that, you were a great TA. Beyond the high-waisted Travolta jeans, you were awesome. You were patient with explaining content, and, contrary to many of my TAs in undergrad, you actually made sense. You helped me understand political theory. For that, you deserve praise.

More importantly, however, I'd like you to know that you helped out a student more than you could possibly know. I still remember your advice about public speaking, particularly on the days where seminars scare me beyond measure and I want nothing but to keep my mouth shut and hide.

You made a difference with this student, GNNTA. Your advice was more helpful than you know. You will probably never know this, but regardless, I'd like to recognize you. For helping me out, I thank you.

With Appreciation,

A Former Student

"Everyone who has ever taken a shower has an idea. It's the person who gets out of the shower, dries off and does something about it who makes a difference."
- Nolan Bushnell

"Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why."
- Bernard Baruch

"Leaders must be close enough to relate to others, but far enough ahead to motivate them."
- John C. Maxwell