Everything is Everywhere: The End of Anticipation

Just a week ago, my friend Melissa and I were driving across the southern tip of Texas. On one particularly long driving day, during which we had been passing through small town after small town in virtual silence, Melissa suddenly turned to me and said "everything is everywhere."

What she meant was that every town seemed to have the same stores in which you could get ... well ... everything. Each town that had 15,000 people or more also had a Target and/or a Walmart (often both) a "Whataburger" (this fast food chain was new to me) a "Church's Chicken," a "Sonic Burger" a "Home Depot" a "Walgreen's" drugstore and a "HEB" grocery store (HEB apparently stands for "Here Everything's Better.") And these weren't small stores, either ... they were gargantuan.

Yes, as we drove across Texas, everything was at our fingertips. Our trip to Target was a revelation; Melissa and I both bought much needed no-name sleeping pads for only 20 dollars! And to think that at Mountain Equipment Co-Op we would have paid at least 80 dollars for industry-proven Therm-a-Rest pads like a pair of suckers! Of course, the Target sleeping pads were useless. They stayed inflated for approximately 30 minutes, and those thirty minutes were pure hell; imagine trying to get comfortable on top of three half-inflated basketballs and you'll get the picture. But there was no need to fret about our purchases because there were a Target store every twenty feet, so returning them was a snap. Everything was, indeed, everywhere.

It is incredible to live at a time when everything we want seems to be instantly attainable. Within the confines of one store you can find organic soap, ground venison and potato chips flavoured like Kung Pao chicken. Online booksellers like abebooks.com have made my second-hand book hunting a quick and easy task. Heard a song you like on the radio? Don't want to wait for the next Harry Potter movie to come out on video? Don't feel like researching and writing that pesky essay? Get on the Internet and get downloading!

My brother told me recently that he asked his friend Casey to show him how to download movies and TV shows from BitTorrent, a worldwide file-sharing system. Colin was very excited to acquire commercial-free television, but Casey prefaced the lesson with a warning. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked. "Because you'll never be excited about a DVD release date again. You'll probably never go to Blockbuster and scan the shelves to decide what you're in the mood for again. BitTorrent actually takes some of the fun out of it all."

When Colin told me this story, I started to think about the power of anticipation. Are we missing out on the excitement of waiting for something because, as Melissa pointed out, "everything is everywhere?"

The more I thought about it, the more I started to realize how much I enjoy anticipating something. I love the lead up to Christmas as much as I love Christmas Day. I know that November 1 to December 24 is a capitalist's dream come true, but I admit that I adore the twinkling lights, incessant carols, and wrapping the gifts that I have carefully chosen for family and friends. When I was a kid, the weeks leading up the Halloween were sheer bliss, full of costume-planning, pumpkin-carving and elementary school Halloween crafts. Really, the preparation was just as much fun as the night itself. And everyone knows that planning and getting ready for the high school dance can be the best part of what is often a long and/or humiliating night.

I remember one of the best lessons that I ever got from my fourth year theatre professor in the "Advanced Acting and Directing" course. I was struggling with a scene in which I had to passionately kiss a classmate who was a good buddy, but didn't inspire a ton of passion in me (nor I in him.) After watching us clinch and mash our faces together my prof pulled us apart and rolled his eyes. "Don't you get it?" he asked. "There's no interest here ... you're going in for the kiss too soon. Look at magazine ads that show a romance between a man and a woman. They're never actually kissing .... they're ALMOST kissing. Maybe their lips are touching, but just barely. It's the moment BEFORE the kiss that really gets the heart racing. Let the audience wait for it ... once you actually kiss the anticipation is over."

And he was right. It's those moments before a kiss, when you're not 100% sure whether or not it's going to happen, that gives you that twisty feeling in your heart. Those are the moments that I appreciate as a mid 30's singleton and that my married friends tell me that they wish that they could experience again. I would never want to go back to high school, but I do sometimes wish that I could recapture those pre-dance flutters. I can see how I try to keep anticipation alive in my adult life. I try to get my Christmas shopping done early so that I can appreciate the Peanuts specials, the cocoa and the carols without getting bogged down in the cranky crowds. And every year I host a pumpkin-carving party before Halloween, so that my adult friends and I can recapture the joy of scooping out handfuls of gooey pumpkin guts and setting our masterpieces aglow.

Melissa is right - everything is everywhere. As consumers we should look at that fact as an incredible privilege and treat it with respect and restraint. But perhaps we should ask ourselves whether or not we DESERVE the things that we get immediately, or whether we should actually wait for them. And if we do actually have to wait for something, we should try to enjoy the moment, because the anticipation ... like all good things ... will surely come to an end.

A Maighty-fayne Oddessy ... Making my way through Texas one Prepackaged Snack Cake at a Time.

I recently had the opportunity to spend a week in Texas, a state I had never visited before. The real purpose for the visit was to lead an International Baccalaureate teachers' workshop for four days. As my flight was paid for by the IB, I decided to explore Texas for a few days after the conference with my friend and coworker Melissa in the hopes of capitalizing on a cheap vacation opportunity. We didn't know what we would encounter, but we had a few goals; to spend our nights in my two person tent in state parks to keep costs down, and to spend time both on the Gulf Coast and in Mexico. In the end, we drove almost 1000 miles (that's 1600 kilometers for you metric-lovin' Canucks), listened to a lot of Johnny Cash and ate a LOT of gas station prepackaged snack cakes.

Before I left for Texas, I took stock of my preconcieved ideas about what Texas was like. They were as follows:

1.) Texas is hot and sunny and flat.

2.) People who live in Texas drawl.

3.) Everything is bigger in Texas.

4.) Texas is ragingly Republican.

5.) Texas simultaneously prides itself on its' gun culture and southern hospitality.

Deep, eh?

Well, after an exhaustive SEVEN DAY study of Texas, here are my reflections on my initial assumptions about the Lone Star State.

1.) Texas is hot and sunny and flat: TRUE ... SOMEWHAT. The weather and landscape of southern Texas is extremely varied, as is the weather (at least at this time of year.) At night we were downright cold once in a while, and once we had to tear down the tent at midnight and high tail it for a hotel due to 100 mph winds. (We learned the next morning that a tornado had touched down in the next town.) We experienced a torrential downpour, blistering sunshine and even saw a thunderhead develop, and drove through various desert and forest landscapes, flat plains and rolling hills. I would reccomend a drive across Texas to anyone interested in geography and/or varied topography... it is a ruggedly beautiful state.

2.) People who live in Texas drawl: TRUE. Not only did the people there drawl, but Melissa and I came back with hefty drawls of our own. It's true that we largely cultivated this ourselves for our own amusement, but when you drop those pesky consanants and draw out those vowels, everything is suddenly easier! Speaking with our Toronto accents now feels like some kind of post-face lift physiotherapy. The Texan accent also led to some funny misunderstandings; when asking for directions it took me a while to realize that I wasn't looking for a detour around a hospital, but rather the "DeTar Hospital."

3.) Everything is bigger in Texas: TRUE. Texas is a gigantic state - almost 24 million people live within its 300,000 sq. miles (metric-lovin' canucks ...700,000ish sqaure kilometers) - and everything within the state is sized to scale. I have never seen such big trucks and SUV's that are not part of a monster truck rally. (I seriously think that the state should just stop spending money on roads altogether as everyone is prepared to offroad at a moment's notice. Driving in Texas is like driving in a "Celebration of the Tank!" parade.) Any town with at least 15,000 people had a series of "big box" stores that truly lived up to the "big box" name. And the food ...the food was unreal. A small sweet tea is actually a gallon of syrup so thick that it is almost crunchy. One particular restaurant featured a baked potato stuffed with ... are you ready for this? A POT ROAST. I am not joking.

4.) Texas is ragingly Republican: UNDETERMINED. Certainly the four days I spent in Houston at the conference seemed to reinforce this idea; I made the mistake of watching both "The O'Reilly Report" and "Fox News," which is some of the most appallingly biased media coverage I have ever seen. One "anchor" actually punctuated a story about Obama with an eye-roll and a "sheesh!" But once we started talking to the locals, we often encountered sheepishness about the current government and an eagerness to point out to the Canadians that "We are ashamed of the mess we are in! We're not all Bush supporters!" We also saw a lot of paraphenalia supporting Hillary Clinton's campaign. Even in the very rural areas people seemed anxious to talk to the visiting Canadians about how upset and nervous they were about the future of their country, particularly with regards to the soldiers in Iraq and national healthcare.

5.) Texas simultaneously prides itself on its gun culture and and southern hospitality: TRUE. With the exception of one cranky gas station attendent, the locals we met were unendingly friendly and kind and open to conversation. At the same time were were amazed at some of the ATV's that we saw in state parks (specifically specified as NON hunting spaces) that were equipped with sharp-shooting seats on the top. All of the Wall Mart and Target stores have aisles upon aisles dedicated to guns - including a toy gun aisle in the children's section Everything that is for sale in Texas can be bought with a camoflage design: toothbrushes, Barbie dolls, school binders. EVERYTHING. We didn't see guns in cars, but we didn't go lookin' neither for fear of what we might find..

All in all, I enjoyed my trip. The small towns were much more enjoyable than the concrete jugle of Houston and walking across the border from Texas to Mexico was a real highlight. We met some lovely people and saw some truly beautiful sights. I don't reckon that I'd be headin' back anytime soon, but there are some maighty-fayne times to be had if you know where to look, y'all. (But I would still advise that you avoid them pot-roast potatos ... and them prepackaged snack cakes.)

The "Youb Tube"

I think that it is safe to say that I have elevated wasting time to an art form. If I am meant to be working hard at school, I will check my email or go to the staff room to get a coffee. If I am meant to be working at home, I will clean my condo, do dishes, play with the cats or watch television. I spend too much time watching the boob tube, and the "watching" is just the beginning. For example, here is is how my time commitment to "Lost" breaks down over an average week:

Watch an episode of "Lost": One hour

Discuss episode of "Lost" at work the next day with various coworkers over lunch, in office, at coffeemaker, etc.: One hour

Nurture crushes on several of the main characters in "Lost" and contemplate which man I would rather be lost on an island with:
Five hours (approximately one hour per cast member crush.)

As you can see, "Lost" can take up SCADS of time. Don't even get me started on "Prison Break," which requires just as much commitment and inspires just as many crushes, even though it jumps a new shark before each commercial break. And as if the boob tube wasn't bad enough, I have recently been dealing with another insidious time-sucker.

Youtube.

Up until recently, I could faff around on Youtube for ages, looking up movie clips, music videos, stand up comedy, newscaster bloopers, and hours and hours of videos of kittens falling asleep, batting at strings or diving into paper bags. Whenever I clicked on a video, a bar of "related videos" was displayed on the right of my screen, leading me down the rabbit hole and into the kind of "lost time" usually only experienced by UFO abductees.

Like everything on the internet (or indeed, in life), there is some great stuff on Youtube. There is also abysmal crap, and worse. As far as I can tell, there are five "levels" of Youtube:

Level One: Useful and/or Informative:

I have been amazed at what I can find on Youtube. For example, I have recently been doing some research on Guan Hanquing, the "Shakespeare of 13th century China," and, lo and behold, there is a clip of a performance of the Hanquing play "Snow in Midsummer" on Youtube. You can see news reports you have missed or clips from documentaries. There are clips from the Royal Albert Hall Proms! Actual sophisticated, informative content.

Level Two: Original and Fun:

There are some very creative film projects and excellent music that I would not otherwise get to experience. I have really enjoyed the reedited movie trailers that put a whole new spin on the films they are parodying ("The Shining" recut is particularly good.) I can't stop watching "Ok Go's" video "Here it Goes Again," which is entirely choreographed using treadmills. Videos like this inspire me to be creative.

Level 3: Useless

I would venture to say that the majority of clips on Youtube are purely pointless crap. There are a disordinate number of videos of people reenacting famous movie scenes in their living rooms. Not for purposes of satire mind you ... just ... reenacting. There are angst-ridden whackos wailing into the camera about the plights of their favourite celebrities. There are clips of "ALF" on Youtube. I mean, really. ALF? Really? Is someone REALLY fulfilling their destiny as an ALF archivist? Anyway.

Level 4: Humiliating:

This is where Youtube begins to turn my stomach. I'm no angel; I have laughed at some of the "pratfall" videos before. But some of the images captured on Youtube are truly awful. There are several clips of teachers yelling at their students, after being deliberately provoked for cinematic purposes. Miss South Carolina will never live down her disasterous answer to why 1/5 of Americans cannot locate the US on a world map. And there are all kinds of videos with names like "Fat kid falls into water."

WARNING ... THE REST OF THIS BLOG IS SO GROSS THAT YOU SHOULD PROBABLY JUST SKIP OVER IT. I'M GOING TO BE PITHY ABOUT MY BAD DATING LUCK AND THEN WRITE ABOUT SOME AWFUL STUFF. I'M NOT KIDDING.

I was introduced to a particularly humiliating video against my will. I was on perhaps the most ill-fated date of my life, and keep in mind when I say that that I have been on some STAGGARINGLY bad dates. At the end of a truly dreadful evening, after several "Whooo! I'm TIRED!" hints, he finally agreed to go only after he showed me a "hilarious" clip on Youtube. In the clip, a group of people are sitting in an outdoor hot tub. One woman suddenly stands up and says "I have to get out" and then ... I am not making this up ... has massive diarrhea into the water. My date laughed and laughed, and then when I told him that I was disgusted as I handed him his jacket and held the door open, he accused me of being "uptight."

I think that one of the things that really bothered me about that clip (besides the copious diarrhea, of course) was that it appeared that that woman was among friends at the time the footage was shot. I guess she wasn't, because that video is now on the internet for the world to see (although I can't imagine who would want to ... except for one damn person. Please, even if you have a sick sense of humour, don't go and look at it because you read about it here.) Maybe I am "uptight," but it breaks my heart to think about how embarrassed that woman must be, and how cruel her "friends" must be.

Level 5: Criminal:

I'm not going to dwell on this one, but this category exists, and none of us should forget it. Those of you who read about the marine/puppy video last week know what I am talking about. If you didn't - don't look it up. Trust me.

When I reflect on this, I wonder if Youtube is the modern equivalent of the Roman Gladatorial Games. There was a great deal of pageantry and bloody mayhem in the games, and it all fell under the umbrella of entertainment. It may seem like a ridiculous comparison, but the fact remains that with a simple mouse click on Youtube you can navigate back and forth between clips of the London Symphony Orchestra and Saddam Hussein's execution. That's entertainment, I guess. Ain't it cool that we're so much more evolved than those Roman types?

When I think about it in these terms, I get a bit queasy.

Huh. Maybe I should just stick to watching "Lost." Or maybe ... just maybe ... I should stop wasting my time altogether.

A

(P.S. Wait, wait, wait ... okay ... how's this? I'm going to waste LESS time in general but keep watching "Lost." Okay? Okay? *breathes sigh of relief *)

Learning as I go ...

I'm very new to doing this "online" thing, and I'm learning as I go.

I have been advised that it is a good idea to restrict the comment option on this page to Google users and to moderate comments before they are posted. Apparently pages like this are big targets for spam, and I don't want this blog to become a nonstop advertisement for penis enlargement products.

I hope it's not too much of a pain, and that you'll keep leaving comments if something I write appeals to you! I promise that I'll try to write extra good to make it worth it, y'all, and keep you entertained 'n stuff.

A

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

It took me a long time to become a "girl." I have always had all of the requisite parts, but my interests were never particularly "girly." As a kid, I didn't like dressing up or playing "house." My parents were thrilled when they realized that they had spawned the only female child alive who didn't want a "Barbie." I remember wondering why all of my friends wanted them so badly - to me they were stupid to play with because "dressing" is not playing, and they weren't cuddly and they couldn't even stand up on their own. I liked running around and climbing trees and playing with Lego. As I got older I became fascinated with horses, and worked on farms and ranches on and off for twenty years. I was never a fashion plate, and I remember, on more than one occasion, trying to walk out the door to go to a dance or a party while my mother begged me to put some makeup on before I went out.

"You're so pale!" she would cry. (Note: She was right. My mother has beautiful dark skin and hair and my father is very fair. I got her dark hair and his pale skin which means that I look like I have tuberculosis from October to May. My brother got her hair and her skin and my dad's blue eyes and looks like a movie star. Needless to say, he does NOT look like he has tuberculosis.) Sometimes I would grudgingly stomp back upstairs to put some lipstick on, but I never really learned what I was doing.

As I got older and embarked on my teaching career I slowly begain to embrace more feminine things. I wear a little bit of makeup to work now, and most of my horse-ranch wardrobe is gone (Note: MOST.) I have a shoe collection that, much to my surprise, has totally grown out of my control. And ... I sometimes go to a spa.

I was 29 when I first went to a spa. It is burned in my memory because I wanted to surprise my best friend with something really special for her 30th birthday, and I had planned it a month in advance. I blew my paycheque on a package that included massages, manicures, pedicures and a hair wash and style at a swankydank place in downtown Toronto. My plan had been to keep our destination a secret until we walked through the front doors of the spa but such was my excitement that I blurted it out before we even left my apartment. It was worth every penny; we emerged relaxed, massaged, buffed and polished, feeling like two cosmopolitan, mature, worldly women. It is an experience that everyone should get to try at least once.

It pains me to reveal to you, gentle reader, that until now this experience has NOT been available to everyone. There is a vital demographic that has been rudely deprived of this opportunity to explore the mature, cosmopolitan and worldly aspects of their personalities. I am, of course, talking about little tiny prepubescent girls! How long can this persecution continue?

Fear not, valiant consumer - this marketplace deficit has been noticed and addressed. Spa providers such as the "Glama Gals," "Glamour Tweens" and "Peaches and Cream" cater exclusively to girls as young as three, providing all of the essentials that you would find at any Yorkville Spa. And to think that I waited until my late twenties to pay another person to buff my toenails!

The "Glama Gals" who cater only to children under 16 years old, will bring everything necessary for a birthday or slumber party spa experience to a lucky girl's home. Kids can indulge in "Chocolicious" or "Tutti-Frutti" facials, "Chocolate Ice Cream"manicures or pedicures or makeup application sessions. Their goals are lofty; they hope that the particupants feel like "royalty" and establish a sense of identity. As the "Gals" state on their website:

"We feel empowered by our decisions and experiences and want to take part, even if it's just for a day, in sharing this empowerment with young girls in our community. Glama Gal Party is about Celebrating HER! It's taking a moment to celebrate being a girl and all that comes with being a girl. It's not just about dressing up, hair and make-up; although ask a 7 year old and this is what it's ALL about!"

These spa parties sure sound fun, and they certainly have impressive testimonials on their site! Consider this comment from a mother in Richmond Hill:

"The glama Gals are professional and organized right to the end and 10 year old girls have seen and done it all so to impress them is a feat it itself."

The tenth birthday party (finally ... double digits!) seems to be a big one for the Glama Gals:

"Julia's 10th birthday party was the best & EASIEST party we have ever hosted for her. The girls were so excited and happy with their makeovers."

But let's not forget those other lifechanging, "landmark" birthdays that are often such a nightmare to plan:

"Thanks so much for making my daughter's 4th birthday party such a hit."

Look, I am not trying to be a jerk here. All of the testimonials emphasize the professionalism, kindness and humour of the "Glama Gal" staff, and of this I have no doubt. And maybe it's not that different than little girls dressing up in their mothers' old clothes and clomping around the house in too-big high heels. But should kids know what a day at the spa entails before they know what a day at school entails? Do they need to be "made over" before they have had the opportunity to define their identity for themselves in the first place? Have 10 year old girls really "seen and done it all?" Really?

Moms - girls are going to be making themselves up and fretting about their appearance for THE REST OF THEIR LIVES. Give them a few worry-free years before their morning routines get stretched to accomodate hairstyling and makeup application. A birthday party should include snow down the pants, a jump in the leaves or grass stains on the knees of old jeans. A swim in a pool. Some good old fattening cake. Hide and seek and balloons. Soccer. Movies and popcorn.

If you are really stumped for an idea for a girls' birthday party, call me. I'll take them horseback riding.

A

Grave Expectations

I have walked through a cemetery every day for the last six months and enjoyed every second of it.

I have always felt torn about living in downtown Toronto. One the one hand, I love the multiculturalism and excitement of living in a big city, and have been able to take advantage of the theatres, concert halls and galleries that are at my doorstep. On the other hand, I am an avid camper, hiker and horseback rider, and yearn to be away from big buildings and garish city lights.

Last spring, I decided to start looking for a condo after a giant flood and a negligent landlord made my apartment unlivable. I had to move out of the rubble, but I had grown accustomed to a wonderful lifestyle; I lived on a quiet, treed street and could walk to work in fifteen minutes. I desperately wanted to continue walking to work; I had moved closer to my school in the first place to eliminate being crammed into streetcars, subways and buses during rush hour. I also didn't want to live on the 52nd floor of a high rise, like a veal fattening in my cage, waiting for slaughter. It occurred to me that there was only one place I could live next to mature trees, walk to work and get to a subway station in 10 minutes - and that was next to the Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

In 1876, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery site north of Yonge and St. Clair was a relatively small piece of land outside of the Toronto city limits. Today it is 205 acres of tranquil beauty in the heart of Toronto's "uptown". William Lyon Mackenzie King is buried there, as are Banting and Best (the first medical practitioners to distill insulin), the Eaton family, Northrup Frye and Glenn Gould. The cemetery is threaded with paved paths, and it is used by nearby residents as a sort of park; people walk, run and bike through it, or take a book on summer days and read.

Despite all of this, I found that not everyone understood why I wanted to live next to a cemetery and, if possible, have a balcony overlooking it. "Wouldn't you be creeped out, living next to all of those graves?" they asked. "Wouldn't you be scared?" As if that isn't enough, friends of mine who bought a unit in a building down the street from me had to sign a contract that specified that if they felt that their unit was haunted because of its location, they could not sue the developers. I am not kidding about this.

Once and for all, all of you "aren't you scared?" folks , let's take a minute to think about the "worst case" scenarios for those who live near cemeteries. Clearly the worst things I would be dealing with are: Vampires, Ghosts and Zombies. I'll deal with them individually.

Vampires: As a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" fan, I am well versed in methods of dealing with these guys. The best defense is the fact that they can't come into your house unless you invite them. Heck, they probably couldn't even get past Roger, my building's front desk concierge, who takes his job VERY seriously. My friend Graham came to visit me last weekend and it took him AGES just to get the guy to call up to verify that I was expecting a guest. There's no way that Vampy McSuckerton could get past him!

Ghosts: Ghosts are all filmy and floaty, right? If a ghost is coming after me for some reason, I doubt that my moving closer to a graveyard would make a difference - travel is a snap for them. I don't think that my condo building is built on an ancient Indian burial ground, but even if it were, I think that ghosts would be the most pissed at people in the underground parking and on the first floor; I'm all the way up on the fifth. Besides, I am sure that the whacking great condo fees I pay every month probably cover spectral malevolence.

Zombies: The issue with zombies is that they travel in large groups reminiscent of the bus tours that bring senior citizens to Toronto to see stage productions of "We Will Rock You" or "Dirty Dancing." Even if they could get past Roger, their groaning would alert me to their presence and, as they move at a speed of approximately 5mph, I could pack a bag, take a shower, make a snack and then escape on foot before they made it to my unit.

Our love of horror movies aside, why do we hang on to ridiculous fears about cemeteries? Seriously - I LOVE living next door. It is downtown green space in a city of 3 million that is not under the threat of "development." This morning I heard the first herald of spring - birds singing in the 60 year old trees just outside my bedroom window (I did get that graveyard-view balcony, by the way!) Most of all, as I walk on those paths to and from work I am struck by the symbols of love and respect that are all around me. The people who rest in Mount Pleasant Cemetery have been reduced to their organic components, but the people who designed their graves have done the very best they can to preserve the memory of a person they loved. It's a beautiful place, and I feel honored to pass through it every day.