While I was working on Saturday I overheard two customers talking about altruism. It was the opinion of the man speaking that no human act is ever truly altruistic. And I tend to agree with him.
I'd like to think of myself as being somewhat altruistic, but isn't that in itself just me being egotistic? If we think we're doing a good deed, are we just in reality servicing the needs of ourselves?
My eavesdropping triggered me to think about random acts of kindness and the relinquishment of selfishness for the betterment of others. I thought about people who give up their organs and blood donors, and foster parents, and volunteers. And I thought about the things I do to ensure that I'm leading a magnanimous existence.
The other day I held a door open for a lady at the store. It made me feel good. Today on the streetcar I gave up my seat for an elderly gentleman. It made me feel good. When I left the Green Grind cafe this afternoon I took my empty cup up to the dirty dish container and thanked the girl behind the counter. It made me feel good.
Let me controvert a seemingly innocent commission of altruism to further explain my point. There's a big party at your friend's house and the next day it looks like Kandahar. Although you'd rather be at home in bed, you put up your hand to help clean up the mess. Domestic chores while nursing a hangover surely equates to altruism, right?
Wrong. You're doing it because your friend helped you move house a few weeks ago, or because you feel guilty about sleeping with his girlfriend, or because if you help clean up this one time you won't have to help with anything else for the rest of the year. In fact, your friend might consider your help so altruistic that he might feel the exact same pressure you did, and in turn, offer to help you landscape your garden or some shit like that. Or maybe you're just doing it because your motivation, like mine, is the buzz you get from just simply helping people.
I know it's discouraging to think that despite our best intentions, our ego is always there to steal the limelight. I want to believe altruism exists in its purest form, but it's hard when the world is so cynical.
So anyway, there you go, I've informed you of the dangers of your subconscious mind. I guess that's my good deed for the day.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Operation Liberation
I finally joined the gym yesterday. The West End YMCA to be exact. In addition, I'm 14 days sober. I've also been for two jogs in the last week. And I ate steamed vegetables for dinner. I'm slowly piecing my way back to something that resembles fitness.
The sign-up process was relatively unscathing. Well except for the part where I think I was being chatted up by one of the guys behind the desk, and the part where they took my photo for my membership card on a webcam and I turned out looking like a distorted, douche-bag version of myself.
The more scathing part came when I decided to give myself a self-guided tour of the gym and its facilities. I thought a good place to start would be the women's locker room. I've never seen such an abundance of tits and box in my life. I was trying to orient myself in the room but I came face to face with genitalia at every turn. And then there were those moments that were made even more awkward when I made eye contact with women as they stood there naked. I don't think I've ever felt quite so overdressed in my whole life as I did in those few minutes.
So why put yourself through all of this uncomfortableness, did I hear you ask? Well there is in fact a very good reason. On Father's Day I plan to participate in the five kilometre 'Prostate Cancer Canada' run, in honour of my dad who is battling the disease as we speak. I'm sure he'll appreciate the horrific nature of the scenes I'm having to endure in order to support him and the cause.
If nothing else, I think my gym experience has given me added incentive to get fit. Hopefully in time I can liberate my muff enough to walk around starkers in the change rooms too.
The sign-up process was relatively unscathing. Well except for the part where I think I was being chatted up by one of the guys behind the desk, and the part where they took my photo for my membership card on a webcam and I turned out looking like a distorted, douche-bag version of myself.
The more scathing part came when I decided to give myself a self-guided tour of the gym and its facilities. I thought a good place to start would be the women's locker room. I've never seen such an abundance of tits and box in my life. I was trying to orient myself in the room but I came face to face with genitalia at every turn. And then there were those moments that were made even more awkward when I made eye contact with women as they stood there naked. I don't think I've ever felt quite so overdressed in my whole life as I did in those few minutes.
So why put yourself through all of this uncomfortableness, did I hear you ask? Well there is in fact a very good reason. On Father's Day I plan to participate in the five kilometre 'Prostate Cancer Canada' run, in honour of my dad who is battling the disease as we speak. I'm sure he'll appreciate the horrific nature of the scenes I'm having to endure in order to support him and the cause.
If nothing else, I think my gym experience has given me added incentive to get fit. Hopefully in time I can liberate my muff enough to walk around starkers in the change rooms too.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Revenge is Bittersweet
Justice. It's a word that's slung around like a sack of potatoes. Verbalised with such verocity that anyone might believe it actually exists. Yesterday the mastermind of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Osama bin Laden, was 'brought to justice'; captured and killed by the United States Government.
Undoubtedly, the atrocities realised by bin Laden that autumn day in 2001 are unforgiveable. He took so much from so many innocent people. He played a hand in making the world colder and harder and less trusting. And he is responsible for so much hatred, not just directed at him or the perpetrators of the attacks, but an entire race of people who have suffered deeply as a consequence.
As a kid, both at home and at school, I remember always being taught that violence isn't the answer; that responding to violence with violence is just perpetuating a problem that can best be solved with words rather than fists. But these rules don't seem to apply when pride and ego is on the line.
Bin Laden's death is symbolic at best. And how many innocents have had to die in the meantime to achieve this little victory? Soldiers and civilians alike. I have no doubt that there is someone waiting in the wings to replace or mimic bin Laden. Someone fuelled by revenge just as millions of Americans were nearly a decade ago.
So is this what closure feels like? Because to me it just feels like we've started another war.
Undoubtedly, the atrocities realised by bin Laden that autumn day in 2001 are unforgiveable. He took so much from so many innocent people. He played a hand in making the world colder and harder and less trusting. And he is responsible for so much hatred, not just directed at him or the perpetrators of the attacks, but an entire race of people who have suffered deeply as a consequence.
As a kid, both at home and at school, I remember always being taught that violence isn't the answer; that responding to violence with violence is just perpetuating a problem that can best be solved with words rather than fists. But these rules don't seem to apply when pride and ego is on the line.
Bin Laden's death is symbolic at best. And how many innocents have had to die in the meantime to achieve this little victory? Soldiers and civilians alike. I have no doubt that there is someone waiting in the wings to replace or mimic bin Laden. Someone fuelled by revenge just as millions of Americans were nearly a decade ago.
So is this what closure feels like? Because to me it just feels like we've started another war.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Regina
In case you've been in a cave for the last few weeks, I'll let you in on a not-so-little secret, Kate and Wills are now royally hitched.
The monarchy is alive and well if our tea and scone sales at the cafe yesterday were anything to go by. So, I was born in a Commonwealth country, and I'm currently living in a Commonwealth country. Every day I see Queen Elizabeth II staring back at me on the currency I use. I sat in high school, and later in law school, and listened to my teachers and lecturers respectively, speak about the significance of 'Regina' in our system of government. The Union Jack even has pride of placement on the Australian flag. So how is it that an exchange of vows has made me feel more inherently British than all of these things put together?
The hype around the event stirred mixed feelings in me. Part of me wanted to embrace the tradition and ceremony of it all, and another part of me wanted to be severed from all autocratic ties completely. I'll admit, I didn't see any of the footage. It aired at 4am here in Tronts, which is a timeslot that I like to give priority to sleeping. I don't think I'd even get up at 4am for my own wedding. The extent of my royal wedding experience was looking at a few photographs online. The dress was lovely and the little frowning flower girl was cute/funny and all that crap. I enjoyed it, if for nothing other than the chance to have a good perve at a very well put-together woman. But when it boils down to it, it's just a wedding. An extremely lavish wedding watched by millions of people worldwide, but just a wedding all the same.
So what's the fascination? I thought about this for a while and I came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, people want some good news. For one day they don't want to hear about pointless wars or gun violence or children being mauled by dingoes. They want fashion and romance, and they want to believe in fairytale love. And surely there's nothing wrong with that.
The monarchy is alive and well if our tea and scone sales at the cafe yesterday were anything to go by. So, I was born in a Commonwealth country, and I'm currently living in a Commonwealth country. Every day I see Queen Elizabeth II staring back at me on the currency I use. I sat in high school, and later in law school, and listened to my teachers and lecturers respectively, speak about the significance of 'Regina' in our system of government. The Union Jack even has pride of placement on the Australian flag. So how is it that an exchange of vows has made me feel more inherently British than all of these things put together?
The hype around the event stirred mixed feelings in me. Part of me wanted to embrace the tradition and ceremony of it all, and another part of me wanted to be severed from all autocratic ties completely. I'll admit, I didn't see any of the footage. It aired at 4am here in Tronts, which is a timeslot that I like to give priority to sleeping. I don't think I'd even get up at 4am for my own wedding. The extent of my royal wedding experience was looking at a few photographs online. The dress was lovely and the little frowning flower girl was cute/funny and all that crap. I enjoyed it, if for nothing other than the chance to have a good perve at a very well put-together woman. But when it boils down to it, it's just a wedding. An extremely lavish wedding watched by millions of people worldwide, but just a wedding all the same.
So what's the fascination? I thought about this for a while and I came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, people want some good news. For one day they don't want to hear about pointless wars or gun violence or children being mauled by dingoes. They want fashion and romance, and they want to believe in fairytale love. And surely there's nothing wrong with that.
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