The Perfect App…

or “Isn’t That a Familiar Tune?”

I realize that I’ve spent a lot of time in silence with myself lately, and I’ve had a little self debate about what to call this blog (I say little because I mean that in the literal sense!). I came to the conclusion that it probably is a little more self serving when it is more elusive.

As time passes, I think that the hardest part for anyone is the “growing up” phase. No matter how well we think we cope with it, ultimately, it is a super difficult thing to do because we tend to overthink and try to make life something separate from personal identity. This is not to say that we don’t grow up as ourselves; rather, I think that as humans growing up in today’s society such as it is, we tend to neglect the values which make us who we are, and act, in some ways, insincerely.

In a paper that I wrote for a seminar on the topic of personhood and the metaphysics of persons, I suggest that “what it is to be a person is just that some being has the
present or future potential to interact with the world in a morally meaningful way, and is able to make moral judgments about other interactions.” Granted, the paper itself may not be very good, the case still stands that one is a person if they can act with moral reason. This alone is an important idea, I think; we tend to say that people who kill just for shits and giggles are “monsters.” We say the same for serial killers too. Another interesting claim that people seem to make is that people who do good for amoral reasons are shallow (such as celebrities who give money to charities, and whom we judge as acting on the grounds of getting noticed). There’s a certain quality of human sincerity and moral meaningfulness that is implicit within “being human” as we might understand it, and without that we can’t really ever overcome the challenges of the “growing up” phase.

So why did I title this post “The Perfect App” and what does it have to do with anything? I got to thinking earlier that if I were an app programmer for mobile devices like the iPhone or Android, I would probably code something that allows you to talk to yourself, but not just on a surface level. After reading Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist, I wondered what people would be like if they could talk to their hearts. Then I realized that people now have a kind of “techjoy” fixation. They can’t do anything without a cellphone in hand, or a laptop in front of them. People just don’t care to spend the time to look at their own lives and see what their hearts have to offer them. So how about an app that lets you do that?

--Just a thought for a not so rainy day.

Collectibles and Other Junk

Upon cleaning my room today (gasp! You cleaned it?!) I came across a little bit of a collector’s item; a first edition laser cel from Resident Evil 4 with the certificate of authenticity, in its original packaging. This raised an interesting question for me; what are collector’s items worth.

When it comes to collecting things, I’m curious about why people collect what they do? What kind of sentimental value an object can hold for a person seems to differ indefinitely and why it has that value is just as varied in terms of the different answers people will give. I find it somewhat neat though, when I talk to people about collections of things.

Today when I visited the Games Workshop at Scarborough Town Center, a group of teenagers came in and looked around, and I overheard them speaking with Dan, one of the staff there. They were talking about what they might be interested in getting, since their dad was a collector of miniature figures. After they left (because the stuff in the store didn’t suit their needs), I actually didn’t think too much about the scene, but I realized something about the people who usually frequent the store now that I think about it; all of the players of the various games in the franchise are collectors as well as participants in this hobby rather than being just people who have the hobby. In a way, we’re all people who share the hobby of collecting.

Many of the people who collect, collect just because they like having these things; I don’t have a specific reason for being a collector along those lines specifically, but I do collect stories. I’m not claiming to be too different from other people by saying this, but I don’t really have anything else that I am devoted to collecting. I mean I do have a bookshelf filled almost completely, but those are all because I’m interested in the stories. I remember the stories people tell me, like one of my friends who wants to go into modelling. Far be it for me to judge the stories of my friends and all the people I meet – in fact, I hope that the universe conspires to help her achieve her dreams, but I do enjoy listening to stories, reading them, telling them, and while strange, dreaming them.

The best thing about stories, the stories I collect, is that they exist in everything I touch. Sometimes I will forget a story, but I do remember most of them, and each one that I have I treasure; for example, I remember that I picked up the laser cel at the Anime club table at my university campus, I remember the girl signing up for the Chapters points program in line in front of me when I picked up one of my notebooks, I remember the game my friends bought me for my PSP as a birthday gift, I remember the day my brother got the PS3 as a birthday gift, I remember thinking that my mom got me a real cat, when she was talking about a statue, and I remember the experience of the handmade rosary around my neck right now. I remember stories and treasure them, and I don’t understand the sentimentality that goes behind it, but I realize now more than ever that I do understand what Dr. Orbinski means, and what many mean, when they say that “stories are all we have.” They really are. We may forget sometimes, but we’re human. As long as we treasure the stories around us, we will never lose our own story.

And whether your collection consists of paintings, insects, stamps, coins, or stories, as long as you do more than just collect, but actually transform the collection into something to share with the world, then I believe the story behind what you collect will never be lost.

Oops. I accidentally shot you. Until you died.

So I’ve been a bit annoyed at everything lately. But the most depressing part of it all has to be the news that has been showing up all over the place.

One of the longer-term stories is that of the shooting of Jordan Manners. At the end of the day, it is a sad story. But it’s also ridiculous because the persons who killed Jordan have (according to CTV News) said that the shooting was an accident. I understand it might have been a lucky shot that went directly at a vital organ or something, but what kind of excuse is “it was an accident?” Considering one could have avoided the firing of the gun by having the safety turned on, or, even better, not having the gun at all, the excuse seems null and void.

On a more local scale, this is a story I was talking to my mother about. One of my brother’s classmate’s mothers committed suicide, and there are rumours about why, but I’m leaving it at depression. I think that as sad as that story is, the reasoning behind everything is kind of weird too. According to my brother, his classmate doesn’t know about what happened to his mother, and is left under the illusion that she was sick. (I’m not quite sure how to finish this point, since it just utterly befuddles me that people would have the audacity to react the way they have.)

The bigger story lately though is Osama bin Laden’s death. I’m not sure why this is as big a story as it is (maybe people are stupid?) but it’s been enough to boost Barack Obama’s popularity. Granted, I don’t have anything against the President, but is it really fair to say that he was the one that deserves all the credit? Of course not.

On a more positive note, I’m trying to get back to sanity.

Catch ya on the flipside.

It’s About Time.

As a writer, I often get asked about what kind of writing I do. Usually, I just say “poetry” or “poetry and short fiction.” I’ve never actually given people a specific answer without asking them to first look at my writing. Then again, I tried to post poetry before telling you what I kind of poetry I was going to write. So I won’t post anything yet. I will let this serve as the introduction to who I am as a writer.

This is who I am. I know I probably look terrible, but I may as well get it out there. (I’ll get a better picture up eventually, I promise!!)

My story as a writer begins in first year university. That was 5 years ago. I began writing a fiction piece, in the hopes that it would result in a major springboard for my entry into the world of creative writing. I realize that I was absolutely wrong. It wasn’t for lack of talent though, but for lack of effort. Yeah, I did write, and I spent a lot of time doing so. But I wasn’t doing enough to get my stuff out there. That’s the big thing. So I kept trying. I entered the creative writing contest a few years in a row, and nothing really came out of it. I also took a creative writing course in poetry being taught by Michael Helm. That was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot, but I still wasn’t getting anywhere. It wasn’t until this past year when I really put writing at the top of my priority list. I don’t have a lot to say about it, but writing poetry and fiction are amazing experiences that have helped shape my mind.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to share my work. The other was to write about the world I experienced around me. There’s a common thread going through all the writing I do though. That is, I spend a lot of it thinking about the human experience, whether it’s mine or someone else’s or just generally. The things that I write are reflections on the way I see the world.

I don’t have much to say about what my writing is at the moment, but I would like to consider this a true starting point. I’ve introduced my work. Let the discussion begin.

Actually, There is Something I Want to Say

I was in 10th Grade when I first heard one of my favourite quotations, from one of my old friends. Little did I realize, that what he said that day would have such an important purpose in my life right now.

He said to me, “Do what you love, because in life that’s what you’ll do. Do what you do, and love will come to you.”

With Grad School Applications coming in paper piles at me, I realized that I’m still not 100% sure what I want to do with myself. I think there’s a part of me that wants to stay in Philosophy, but a part of me wants to pursue Creative Writing as well. I’ve applied to and will be applying to schools in both disciplines, but one of my major concerns is the fact that I don’t know where my heart lies.

Which do I love more? Which do I want to be? Which do I want to pursue for the rest of my life?

Obviously the answer is something only I can provide, but apart from that I think that the finality of this is something I’m making worse than it is. The very fact that I can still change my program (with a lot of effort) eliminates the “rest of my life” mentality, but the question still remains; where do I go from here?


Where Do I Go From Here? – Marié Digby

This is a song I can relate to because I’ve come to realize that I will never be able to plan out my life as neatly as other people have been able to. I do know that I will keep going, because unless I do, I will never find my answer. It’s the principle of the thing.

I don’t have to worry about deciding until I get all the offers for schools I apply for. That will be a decision on its own. I’m just going to give it a shot, applying to my top five, though, and from there, I will hopefully dig through this pile of paperwork.