Bhutto briefly

I figure I should say something, briefly, on Benazir Bhutto, as controversial as a figure as she may have been in Pakistani politics. A friend wondered at me why I was displeased with the news of the assassination because she was a woman, and whether I would be equally upset if it had been Narwar Sharif instead. Of course, it would've been upsetting if her rival had also been killed, but I think it is all the more upsetting knowing that, in the balance of things, it was a man who killed her. Men are the ones who do such things; women, only rarely (and when they do, it is incredibly surprising) so. Men seethingly hate, actively work out their rage, execute brute actions in their anger, and, in politics, do so towards other men (ie. war, suicide bombings, AEDs, etc). Women, of course, also experience this hatred and anger, though in other forms (ie. rape, domestic violence, oppression... did I mention rape and brutality?). To know that some man would have sunk to a new low by assassinating a woman, especially one who, despite her polarizing influence, was still nonetheless a former Prime Minister, and, more significantly, the first woman to reach that level of power in a Muslim country, should be enough to make anyone upset.

Merry Christmas!

One of my favorite cartoon strips, and I've figured out how to put pictures up here! I suspect I must be violating some sort of copyright thing, but I just wanted to share it with everyone.
Merry Christmas!

Some clarification of angst

I was thinking: perhaps this has more to do with the fact that it's Christmas. The story that the (Al)mighty became weak, came to walk in solidarity with the small, and the frail, and the broken. Perhaps it's mulling over our archetypes of Christmas: of the Scrooges of the world giving back in abundance to the Crochetts, of the Grinch giving to the Whos, of the Magi giving gifts to the bastard refugee child that we serve, that makes me wonder about our place in all of this, of our role in reconciling such things.... maybe it's just a timely thought that deserves a good pondering for Christmas...
Merry Christmas.

Angst of the bourgeoisie

One of the things that has really been bothering me over the past month is the issue of class within the church, triggered by a particular comment by a friend, well, a month ago. I know the church already has issues with racial integration and reconciliation, but at least there are efforts in that way to improve that situation. The thing that strikes me, however, is how it is still integration only in a "horizontal", not a "vertical" fashion. How does one move "vertically" without appearing patronizing, or, worse yet, that one is "participating in ministry"? I haven't been able to figure out a way to genuinely and authentically break down class barriers, without it appearing terribly contrived.
This is also combined with being disturbed by the notion that churches have "target markets", that is, certain ethnic groups, or the "young urban professional", or students, or homeless people, or what have you. Is this what we're really all about? If I serve a God that prefers the poor and the oppressed (which, by and large, I am neither, and indeed, I do serve a God who does have that inclination), then how am I actively promoting His views, or am I actively standing in His way? Are we all about reaching "our own" "more effectively" by delineating our "target market"? Are we really reflecting the nature of Kingdom when we do?
I do worry that I (that is to say, an educated, upper-middle class urban professional) perhaps may be part of the problem; that perhaps I am being Pharasaical, in that my "elite class", whether on purpose or not, I exclude, I disinvite, people from the wedding feast...
Of course, this is all my luxury, that I can have existential angst about all of this...

Hospital gafflebab

Now, I suppose, after just having delivered my first baby at the new hospital, I should say something about the new environs - it's a BIG hospital. To get from my new call room to some of the important places I have to be, I actually have to sprint up to 500m to get to where I need to go. This is not ideal in my line of work, but at least there's some adrenaline pumping by the time I get there!
I must say, clearly this hospital was designed for patient "wow factor" in mind, rather than also balancing the needs of the employees as well. What I mean to say is, yes, it's a gorgeous place, and yes, the patient facilities are beautiful and spacious, but the environs in which the health-care workers toil are less than stellar. It's a lot of design planning issues that make it very patient-friendly, but very worker-unfriendly (which, of course, is NOT a good idea long-term; hospitals should be designed to be worker-friendly, perhaps even more so than being patient-friendly).
It's not just me, of course. I've been quite impressed with some of the new equipment we've been given and the bells and whistles that come in the patient rooms. The nurses think I'm weird for how enthusiastic I've been today with all the new toys for patients. However, it has been fun, including hovercraft transfer mats and disco lights for the OR!

Tearing down the ivory tower...

In the rarified air of the ivory towers of universities, I find it quite amazing how there is such a culture difference from institution to institution. Personally, I really despise hoity-toity academic ranks and hierarchy; it drives me nuts. I must say though, since I stand between both the two universities closest to my office, that the culture difference is quite stunning. One is welcoming, collaborative, and wants to hear from other voices. The other: callous, uncaring and certainly an attitude of, "Well, can do you do anything useful for us, or what?". It is striking. It makes me wonder why anyone (including myself) would think the latter is such a wonderful organization...

Films vs movies

I recognize that I am a movie snob. In fact, I rarely enjoy movies; I like films, and I adore documentaries. Most know about the belly-aching I made about having to go see Fantastic Four II: Rise of the Silver Surfer this past summer, and how I was bemoaning and bewailing the fact that I would never get that time back again, but I digress...
It's just funny, in that I noticed an acquaintance of mine has a WICKED collection of DVDs that totally runs up my alley: a lovely mix of some documentaries, some films, and the full extended version of the Lord of the Rings. Very decent. Of course, there's also the Transformers movie, and Star Wars, but I suppose that's because he's a guy, so I will forgive him that... At any rate, I forgot to ask if I could borrow, oh, almost his whole library, last time I was over, and emailed him to see if I could borrow some, which he willingly obliged, if I could list off what I wanted... but now, I can't remember exactly what was in the rack: What to do? Say I'll just take them all, except for Transformers? I think that might be kind of rude...

I also recognize that this is possibly the lamest entry I have ever made on this blog, but I didn't want people thinking that I was neglecting my writing; it's just that I haven't had anything terribly exciting happen in the past few days, that's all. Basically, I've been trying to catch up on labwork and stuff at the office, that's about it... whoo hoo!

Culture shock?

I find it odd that I don't particularly culture shock easily, or, at least, I don't think I do... I seem to have seamlessly slid back into the mundane, everyday humdrum of North American society... the frenetic pace, the blasé materialism, the lack of a collective... that being said, I did find that I was ranting at someone about what "stupid, upper-middle class shits" we all were the other day...

Can't quite figure it out....

Now this is likely just flogging a dead horse, but since I've been thinking about this topic for quite a while now, I thought perhaps I'd try to field some feelings about it. Is our goal really to try to pursue with all of our might that which we are passionately called to, or, are we to be dutiful to whatever situation we should find ourselves in? Is there something 'wrong' when situations or circumstances make us desperately unhappy, or, is that simply a manifestation of a temporary 'trial' that we should patiently endure until things change? Are joy and happiness to be our lot, or are pain and suffering supposed to be the sought-after norm? Any thoughts?

Border Crossings III

Well, this isn't really a border crossing, but a few last notes:
Jordanian elections occurred, and it seemed that most parliamentarians that were elected were sympathetic and loyal to the king, rather than the Muslim Brotherhood, and other fundamentalist Muslims. Long live the king!
It looks like they -may- have a candidate to stand for president in Lebanon, if Hezbollah and its allies agree. Hopefully this will all work out. Hopefully, conversely, General Suleiman would actually be a good man, not a strongman; this will be hard to know in advance, as he has been an army man all his life.
While driving out to the airport (this is the "border crossings" bit), the cabbie actually took me through a Palestinian refugee camp, and some of the Hezbollah stronghold neighbourhoods in Beirut, that still have noticeable damage due to the bombing by the Israelis. He told me that Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah used to live "above ground" until last year's war, and now his living quarters are under street level. Nice. Frankly, I'd reconsider my ways if I was making many other people so angry that they'd be bombing me regularly, but I guess that's just me... I don't think I'd want to compromise sunshine for my warped ideology....

Lebanon VII

Surprisingly, I'm not sick and tired of Middle Eastern food. I am dearly wishing for some sushi and (can you believe it) dim-sum, but at least I'm not as tired of hummus as I was of paneer...
One of the things that is very odd here in the Middle East is the method of construction. I note here that people do not complete building jobs at all; sometimes they'll be missing the top floor of a building, sometimes one half of the building only has the scaffolding in place. It is quite odd. I had read somewhere it was due to the reluctance, and even prohibition of debt amongst Muslims. Hence, you build with as much money as you have; once that is gone, you wait until you accumulate some more, and then you continue with building. I was then told that was not necessarily true. Certainly, people do not necessarily complete buildings all in one go, but sometimes it is simply an issue of financing. Well, whichever way it is, it is quite interesting how many buildings have struts sticking out of them, in anticipation of further construction, whenever that is to occur...
That being said, Beirut is a relatively new city. That is to say, many of the buildings here have been constructed since the end of the civil war. There is a certain gracefulness (due to the French influence) and modernist feel to many of the buildings. Also, that means that many of the previous buildings that were pulverized during the war are hidden, or mostly disappeared. There are still many buildings with obvious bullet-holes and mortar shell holes in their walls, but the new buildings certainly out-number them.
Furthermore, I've been utterly unsuccessful retrieving photos of tanks, blown-out buildings and the like in Beirut. Due to the current simmering tensions here, for the lack of a President, there is heightened military security around the downtown. (Going through a check-point, I accidentally hit a soldier in the face with my hat as I was emptying out my bag to show him there was really only my hat in it... oops... I've never hit a soldier in the face before, but I didn't think that this was the best situation to have done that...) I've been denied to take photographs, and have not been allowed close enough to others to snap an adequate photo. Let me assure you though that the marks of the war still remain; it is quite something to note the mangled, twisted remains of the intersection where Rafik Hariri was blown up a few years ago. The road has been repaved, but the shriveled shells of buildings, with concrete sticking onto steel rods, curling over the edges of overhangs and previous windows is quite something; it is clear that 'they' wanted him good and dead...

Lebanon VI

The more I am learning about the politics of this country, the more I am profoundly convinced that people do need to deliberately pursue peace rather than partisanship. It confounds my mind at how men are more willing to go to war than to compromise. I am hoping and praying that something positive may come from the Annapolis conference, but I am not sure how a 2 day conference, moderated by the US, is going to fully resolve Palestine, the Golan, Hamas and Hezbollah, the lack of a Lebanese president, the Iraqi refugee crisis, etc etc etc... being able to start to see it from multiple sides now, it is not so easy to paint in large strokes of black and white...
Looking outside the window right now, I see a large plume of smoke coming up from the south end of Beirut: I am not sure why, and I am hoping it is only an accidental fire, and not something more ominous than this. I do want to get a picture with one of the tanks on the streets here, but I do know, as "cool" and "fun" as that might be, it does point to the brokenness in this country that serves as the barometer for the rest of the region...

Lebanon V

One of the things that I've been noticing by the sides of roads and in little crevices here and there are these random shrines to the Virgin Mary both here and in Syria. I couldn't figure out why; they didn't seem to be at particularly dangerous traffic points, not necessarily near religious buildings, nor surrounded by flowers or incense votives. They would simply be pictures or statues of Mary, maybe with a Bible or one plastic flower, encased in a cage. Very odd.
I finally asked someone if they knew what those were for: they told me it was to help prevent litter... hunh? Apparently, people build those little shrines in corners that they don't want litter accumulating, and it ACTUALLY prevents people from littering - obviously only in those corners, as there's plenty everywhere else.
I don't understand why a simple "Do not litter" sign with a rubbish bin wouldn't do... besides, Mary was a mother; I'm sure she could tolerate a bit of mess...

Lebanon IV

So I went to possibly the craziest tourist site ever... apparently it's known far and wide within Lebanon, and tons of Lebanese come to visit, but I'd never heard of it before, and all I could think of is, "Boy, this is some crazy s#&^!" walking through...
There is a man named Mr. Moussa who dreamt about living in a castle when he was just a wee lad, even though he was very poor. One day in his art class, he was drawing this castle, and he told his teacher about his dream. He was then soundly beaten (which isn't surprising - I've been hearing a lot of stories along those lines in the religious madrassas) for dreaming such things, as they would never come true.
Well, wouldn't you know it, Mr. Moussa becomes this huge tycoon, a very rich man, and he goes about building a freaking castle in the Lebanese mountains. Takes him several decades to finish his chef d'oeuvre, though he likely took a short hiatus during the war, and allows him to snub his nose at his old teacher, who is, unfortunately, dead by that point.
It was really crazy: it had a moat, turrets, drawbridge, everything! He doesn't actually live inside, but he does have dozens of dioramas (that do mechanize - it's almost like going to see "It's a small world after all" at Disney World) depicting traditional life in Druze country. There is also a diorama of the Last Supper and of Santa Claus (both of which don't make sense, as Mr. Moussa is not of "Christian" heritage, but anyways... as I said, crazy shit...) There is also a diorama of him as a child in his classroom being beaten by that original teacher! Then he has a motley collection of guns and other miscellaneous items that don't really have anything to do with one another, but it's crazy, as I said before.
I totally couldn't believe it: it is possibly one of the strangest things I have seen in the world so far, because it is SO entirely random, with the castle and the dioramas and the showcase displays of kitsch... but I got a picture with Mr. Moussa in front of his castle, so at least I know that it is really true...

Lebanon III

I hadn't realized how mountainous and lush Lebanon actually is, and how little of it is flat. The flat part is mainly along the coast of the Mediterranean. Now, it's a very tiny little country, so I had realized how small the distances are between towns... in fact, it's at the point where it's all sprawl, all the way up and down the entire coast... we had driven up past a continuous line of development all the way up to three towns up from Beirut! There is very little to distinguish (to the untrained eye) as to when you've actually arrived in the next destination.
I myself am staying in a suburb of Beirut, high in the mountains, and am overlooking Beirut and the Mediterranean as we speak. Due to the tensions of the last few days and recent travelling outside of the capital, I haven't yet been down there very much yet, but I have driven by where Hariri was assassinated (of which the marks of the damage caused by the blast is mind-numbing to see)...

Lebanon II

One of the things that I've totally become enamoured of is Al-Jazeera TV - the English version, of course, as I still understand very little Arabic, unfortunately. I am particularly a fan as they are stridently opposed to the regime in Saudi Arabia, and are in fact, banned from the air in that country. One show which I would highly recommend is called EveryWoman, which focusses on stories affecting women around the world, and highlighting their general plight. For example, on today's show, the stories that they covered included that poor Saudi girl who was gang-raped and SENTENCED to 200 lashes and 6 months' in prison - for being a rape VICTIM. Some of the perpetrators were also sentenced between 3-5 years in prison, but some were not. They also spoke about paraquat use in developing countries (despite it being a health hazard and banned in Western countries), and seeing as most crop sprayers are women, the physical damage that it is causing amongst some of the poorest and most vulnerable women in countries' attempts to become "economically progressive". The last story they covered was in Jodphur, where, for one day a year, the women get to "act" like men, as a celebration of a story of an argument between a Hindu god and his wife. This means they get to dress up like men, and then beat the men in the city with sticks. Ummm, I think that it's good that the men get a very small taste of their own medicine, but I find it very telling that the main action that is involved in "being a man" is beating women. And, of course, everything goes back to normal for the other 364 days in the year....

Lebanon I

So, I had spent the first twelve or so hours that I was in Beirut half-wondering if I was going to have to get out again. As the government had (again) delayed presidential elections, and there was relatively tight security around the country (ie. checkpoints, and TANKS! - which were cool, and soldiers), when the outgoing president decided at 9pm that there was going to be military martial law to keep order after he left office at midnight, until a president could be picked, the tension heightened just a wee bit. I suppose that would've been a bit exciting, being caught in the middle of martial law, but there was much negotiation in the ensuing three hours, and it was decided that the army would work with the current government to help decide on a president. I'm not entirely sure how having the army help you is such a great thing, but apparently it's better than pure martial law. Whatever; all's it is to say is that it's not as terribly exciting, politically speaking, as it could have been, and I certainly don't need the Canadian government to evacuate me out of Lebanon.
Certainly, one of the big confusing things that I suppose you just have to be Lebanese to start to grasp is the nature of the politics here. It is terribly jumbled, and sometimes just plain old doesn't make sense, however, there is one way I have been able to discern who is a supporter of Hezbollah: basically, any man who keeps talking, really loudly, and completely disregards anyone else's opinion, or even the newscaster trying to end the interview, is a supporter of Hezbollah. Apparently, this is perceived as a great virtue, this being incredibly rude, as for the Shiia, the one who has the loudest and strongest (NOT the wisest or the smartest) voice is clearly the victor. That is ridiculous, as I can think of many loud and strident voices (present company included) that are clearly not the wisest voices...
I notice I haven't had particularly a lot of funny stories as I usually do on this trip... I guess the Middle East isn't particularly funny...

Border Crossings II

So, this border crossing was a little bit more involved than the previous one, mainly due to the on-again/off-again nature of the presidential elections in Lebanon. Was supposed to cross yesterday, the day before the elections (which actually didn't occur today), but was assured that I could cross on election day without problems. Until there WERE problems: businesses were ordered to close, and additional check points and security points (ie soldiers and tanks) were going to be put in place on election day, so my original form of transport cancelled last minute. Then, we had to scramble around to find another way to get in, which I did, but had to pay twice as much to get here!
For all of that, the crossing was fairly uneventful: the soldiers were really quite friendly and helpful, despite their machine guns - I suppose the French helps too...
All of that hassle was a bit overblown, as the politicians then blustered around and delayed the election, yet again... I was doing a bit of math, and, considering there are only 3 million Lebanese, when one subtracts the number of children, women, elderly men, and men who actually want peace and not a return to civil war, there are likely only about 150,000-200,000 men who are actually the problem in this country... which is an insignificant amount of people causing so much strife in a tiny parcel of land... I think they should be allowed to go up to the north-east or south-east corner of the country and just duke it out amongst themselves....
Another point which I forgot to make about Syria: I did, in fact, encounter one woman who had come to the clinic in full chador (which, in my opinion, is almost worse than the burqa, as there isn't even an "eye screen" - basically, you are covered with a large black cloth, full length black gloves, wrist guards, etc etc, so you cannot even tell there's a human in there... she had come in with her husband and child (the child being the patient, and the father being clothed in normal Western-style clothing, of course)... it was as if she wasn't there... it was eerie... at least with the niqab, you can see the eyes, so you know there's a person there... but this, this was as if she was a non-person, non-existent... she didn't speak, I couldn't even appreciate if there was a face, or a soul, behind that blackness... like the Ringwraiths, actually...

Syria V

There are a lot of stray cats here in Damascus. Which is strange, as Arabs are not big fans of cats. However, they're also not willing to implement some sort of spaying program for them, so there are just a whole bunch of them roaming the streets.
Also, one thing that must be noted is the rich church history that is here in Syria. I have been to Crusader castles, ancient churches dating from the first to third centuries, and been awed by Roman excavation sites. I've also visited one of the few villages left that speak Aramaic, so that was kind of neat too. There are gobs of churches here, ranging from Orthodox to Catholic to Maronite to Protestant; it is wonderful to see the spectrum of believers here, as it is in sharp contrast to what is portrayed in the Western media...
It's interesting as there is currently an ad campaign going on TV through the Middle East basically saying that terrorism isn't cool and it isn't consistent with the teachings of Islam. But then, I saw a music video where it looked like the storyline for the singer was that she fell for a terrorist and they were running around in a car from the police, so I'm not exactly sure how this all pans out...

Syria IV

A few notes about the government here:
There are a lot of photos of the president and his (deceased, and former president) father around. Again, I have learned that Bashir Al-Assad is actually quite intelligent, and also did a residency in opthalmology in the USA when he was younger!
Also, I have been walking past this very large walled complex, surrounded by men with machine guns. This is all the more disconcerting in that none of these men are in uniform; somehow, the uniform makes all the difference - it makes carrying a machine gun look normal somehow.... at any rate, I had found out it was actually a base for the secret police... after which, I thought, wait a minute, if I, a foreigner, can find out that the secret police are housed here, it's not much of a secret, is it? Furthermore, is it also really a secret if it has got men with machine guns standing around it? Just a thought...
Also, interestingly, on BBC World there was quite a bit of talk about Syria on the news yeserday... mainly about the status of Iraqi refugees here, which is complex, and I'm not sure if this blog post will print if I talk about it too much here, but it was interesting to note that the BBC had gotten the Iraqi ambassador to England as an interview guest last night, and just as he was going to start speaking, there was a "technical difficulty" on the TV, only for the BBC, and only for the exact length of the interview.... interesting...

Syria III

I must say, this is the first trip that I have simply eaten anything that has been given to me, or anything on the street that happens to catch my fancy... I don't think this is the wisest way to go, but my intestinal system has been totally fine with this, and I've been able to eat some of the yummiest food by just eating whatever is given to me... about the fruit juices: here, on every other street corner (almost like Starbucks) are these fruit juice stands where they will freshly make a fruit juice for you, of almost any flavour of super fresh fruit! It's awesome! You get a large for about $0.50! I've had oranges, bananas, pomegranates, strawberries etc etc put into my smoothies! When I think about how much (powdered) bubble tea costs at home, it just gets my goat!

Syria II

One of the things that struck me most in driving into Syria was the fact that women walk on the street. That was the big, huge initial impression that I got - I suddenly felt free to walk on the streets again. The longer I am here, the more I am completely baffled by their being lumped into the "axis of evil", as they are some of the friendliest and generous people I have met. And they have awesome desserts. And fruit juice (more on that later, but they make awesome fresh fruit juice).
In speaking with some, it appears that likely most of the beef that America (I'm starting to get in the practice of calling it "America", as apparently, most of the world does, except for us) has with Syria is actually it's anti-Israel stance, and the fact that it has no useful oil stores. Frankly, it's anti-Israel stance is NOT anti-semitic at all, but purely geo-political in nature, and it is not willing to compromise with a country it feels has taken some of its land away (ie. the Golan Heights). I suspect there may also be a point to make as well in that Syria is run by a dictator (a reasonable one, but a dictator nonetheless) - not that any Syrian would say this, as it is illegal, and, I think, it wouldn't even occur to them that having him as a dictor is a bad thing, as he's a benevolent dictator with a considerable cult of personality going on.
These are important points to make, as I note that this country is MUCH more Westernized than Jordan is, for sure. Which makes the contrast even odder - another letter I will be writing when I return will be to Mr. George W. Bush about this. For America has very good relations with Jordan and Saudi Arabia, as they either have a)brokered a peace deal with Israel or b)have massive oil stores. However, we well know Saudi is hardly known for its amazing human rights record, its advocacy for freedom of speech, or its vocality about the equality of women, and actually, neither is Jordan. So, being here certainly has made me much more cynical of the Bush administration, as Middle Eastern politics, as handled by the West, are certainly more dependent on circumstances than any sort of principles of freedom and democracy...
Furthermore, I spent some time talking with an Iraqi who fled from Baghdad in 2005 (two years after the invasion), when his situation just became too unbearable to stay any longer. I think I learned more about Middle Eastern politics talking to him for fifteen minutes than anything I could've learned from watching CNN or the CBC for hours... fascinating stuff...

Syria I

So there are plenty of things to write about here, including the "axis of evil" bit and all, but I'm just going to write about one thing here, mainly because it just happened most recently. I was wandering about the original city of Damascus this afternoon, mainly around the souq, but a few things of note:
We were trying to find St Paul's Church, where Paul was supposedly let down in the basket at the city wall. Ironically, you can't get into the church from within the Old City; in fact, you actually have to get in from the outside (ironic, as Paul was having trouble getting out of the city), which we didn't know about. So, we were wandering around in the corner where the church should have been and wondering where to go. Luckily, a little old lady came around the corner, as we asked her where Paul's kineset was... she starts banging on the nearest residential doorway and ringing their doorbell... so we assumed the church was behind that wall... the door opens, and we walk in, thinking we were walking into the church... it became rapidly apparent that we had been let into a nursing home, and we didn't know how to get out... luckily, we saw a courtyard, so we followed a family out, and found our way through the backdoor of the church!! I can assure you that at least that nursing home looked pretty much up to Western standards, so that was nice...
Several hours later, we kind of got lost trying to get out of the alleyways of the Old City, so we started heading in the vague direction we thought we were heading in... the streets were getting narrower and narrower, so then we thought we had to backtrack, until another little old lady comes out of her house and starts signalling for us to follow her. We assumed she was going to show us the way out to the nearest main street.... nope, she leads us to a dead-end doorway, and then starts complaining about how we need to call a builder and fix the leaking water through her sister's roof... That was pretty confusing, as it wasn't clear if she was asking for money from "rich" Westerners or not, until it was explained that our house wasn't here at all... it certainly took a while for her to realize we were just lost, not crappy flat-mates... so that was odd and entirely random...

Border Crossings I

Well, I must say, I crossed the border several days ago, and I have lots to write about the arrival, but a few notes about crossing borders:
I think KFC is one of the few multinationals that can adapt everywhere. I realize MacDonalds has usually received the brunt of the scorn and is the symbol of globalization everywhere, but I must say, KFC is even more pervasive, because who's going to object to chicken, especially when it's deep-fried? Sometimes I think that the good old Colonel should be the face of globalization...
Crossing the border was much less hassle than I thought; I was sure I was going to encounter some austere Syrian border guards, but it totally wasn't that way at all. My servee's driver and the Bedouin who rode with us were helpful, and the Syrians were downright friendly! First impressions: Syria is much more fertile (we were driving mainly beside produce trucks all the way to Damascus) and green than Jordan, for sure, but there's much more to it than that....
Also, I'm developing a theory that the relative properity and wealth of a nation is directly proportional to how orderly traffic flow is in your country. I think there is something to be said about a country that adopts orderliness as a virtue to leading to economic prosperity. It is strange how traffic "rules" are merely suggestions in most of the developing world, rather than laws. It's interesting how a two-lane highway is an abstraction, and, in fact, can adapt to becoming three or four lanes, depending on what the needs are at the moment. It was quite hair-raising when we drove between a transport truck, a tourist bus, and another car simultaneously on the highway in order to pass all THREE vehicles in a two lane highway....

Jordan IX

One final thing I must add about this country: I think I quite like the king. Not that I got to meet him or anything, but I think I will indeed be writing him a fan letter when I get home. I certainly do not envy him at all, however; I think he has one of the crappiest and suckiest job in the world. King Abdullah is married to Queen Rania, who is drop-dead gorgeous, and they've got four beautiful kids. He ascended to the throne in 1999, after his father, King Hussein, announced that he would take the throne two days before his death (This was quite a surprise, as King Abdullah is not the first born son, nor even a son of King Hussein's first wife). The King was actually brought to the USA for high school, and did his undergraduate studies at Brown. He then went onto Sandhurst Academy in the UK for further military training, so he's quite an educated man. Furthermore, he spent most of his formative years being exposed to ideas in Western culture such as freedom of speech, gender equity, freedom of religion and expression, and religious tolerance. I believe his intent was to continue living abroad, until he got called to the throne.
And this is where I do not envy his job AT ALL: Jordan is a constitutional monarchy, that is to say, though he is king, and though they say the king does have veto power, and they say he does have the power to institute laws without Parliament's approval, this actually does not happen, and unfortunately, the king must be able to have enough political clout to have Parliament vote his way. King Abdullah has been a wise king, but his hands have been tied by the conservative and fundamentalist Parliament. For example, he has been trying to abolish the law allowing honour killings (can you imagine? Honour killings are still LEGAL here!), but he has been blocked by the Parliament (can you imagine? Still blocking that legislation in the 21st century??). Twenty years ago, it was rare to see a women in Jordan wearing the hijab, and now, it is exceedingly common to wear coverings, even to the niqab and the chador. This was a result of King Hussein having to bow to religious pressure in Parliament to allow fundamentalists and conservatives to run the educational system twenty years prior. Prior to this, children were in co-ed schools, and were following the British schooling system with emphasis on the International Baccalaureate. Now, it's just religious hodge-podge.
I can imagine life here would be quite different for a lot of people, and for the better, if King Abdullah were actually allowed to rule like a monarch. I think with other things that I've been told about the King, I think he's a good guy, in a tough place, with incredible vision that he's not allowed to fly with...

Jordan VIII

OK, I suppose I must mention that I did make it to Petra a week ago, and it was BEAUTIFUL and AMAZING and INCREDIBLE (which it was). It was also neat to clamber up and down the rocks and do the "alternate route" all the way over to the ancient city, while checking out the Bedouin caves (where many still live, including a New Zealand-born nurse who married a Bedouin from here thirty years ago, when she came here as a tourist!). I couldn't remember for the life of me the Indiana Jones movie where it plays a prominent role, but certainly, we were busy singing, "dunh-da-da-daaaaaah, dunh-da-daaaaah, dunh-da-da-Daaaaah, dunh-da-da-Da-DAH! etc etc etc" while climbing around...
I'm realizing there are many things that I want to share here, but I recognize a public blog is not the place - there are stories that I think are really only appropriate for face-to-face time...
That being said, however, there is one I can peripherally talk about: I had been giving a few seminars on various topics pertinent to women's health here. One of the ones that I was particularly interested in giving was on domestic violence, as it is pervasive here (as it is everywhere). I had spoken on what it was, how one can identify it, how sadly and incredibly common it is worldwide, and how the cycle of abuse by perpetrators occurs. What saddened me is how some women smirked when I identified various actions that constituted domestic violence, as if they were saying, "What? That is nothing compared to what I get at home."... The additional point that I did have to make was how God feels about the matter, emphasizing that He made both men and women of equal value, worth and dignity, that He despises violence and that He was always been on the side of the weak and the oppressed, and that He, in fact, loves both men and women equally. Boy! That opened up a whole theological debate for quite a while: several women applauded and said that this was a good teaching, and others were not so sure: their imams taught differently from this, and so this could not be true. It was quite a lively discussion, which I think benefitted all who were in attendance... I am hoping, quite badly, that this may help to open minds to consider where the truth really lies, and may begin to empower women in this country for the better...

Jordan VII

One of the main things I've found that I've been doing around here is substitute English teaching. It's actually been quite fun, and funny, at times. One of my advanced English classes had to write "news stories" based on a few headlines that I had given them: some of the stories that came out of them were worthy of Bollywood treatment! One of the funniest was about these long-lost identical twins, one of whom had been taken to India when he was a baby. The other, as an adult, travels to India, whereupon he is mistakenly arrested for diamond smuggling. The original twin, also, is arrested for the actual crime, and the two become reaquainted in an Indian jail... after which the adventure ensued...
The other bit of this is the absolute CHEESE that comes out of some of my students' mouths: one of my beginner classes is exclusively young men. We were learning the names of colours, and, when asked to point out various objects that were different colours in the classroom, one young fellow puts his hand to his chest, and pronounces, quite dramatically: "My heart.... is red...", after which I could only roll my eyes and ask him to sit down...
Furthermore, what has been interesting is some of the health perceptions here. One woman I had seen in clinic was very reluctant to have me examine her, as she was terribly anxious that I would find some terrible disease. It took her friends another day to convince her to come back to see me and she was apparently unable to sleep. Overall, she ultimately was simply constipated. The absolute and utter joy she had with that diagnosis was frankly, bizarre. She was kissing the translator and I, and announcing to the rest of the waiting room that I was a "wonderful, excellent doctor" (obviously, she doesn't really know what she's talking about - she clearly is delusional). However, it does speak to the fatalistic, fear-driven culture here - that they would rather not know, and not find out, something that could easily be prevented and cured, as it would be insha'allah to interfere otherwise.
The degree to which fatalism plays into decision-making and lifestyle is sad, actually, as is the ability to believe in two completely contradictory statements simultaneously. One such example was a magazine article that I was shown about 'how to deal with women in the workplace'. Of course, as women are clearly temptresses and unable to control their abilities to seduce men, they really should not be in the workplace to lead men astray. However, if it is insisted that a woman should be working, then what the men should each do is suckle at her breast twice daily for five days at the office - this apparently will strengthen a "family bond" between them, and then they will be like mother and son, and work together accordingly. HELLO?????? I know I've heard many idiotic things in my life, but certainly, this is one of the most brain-stupefying things I have ever heard about, particularly in the context that they want women to be fully covered - but just not in this case - instead, it is a good idea for women to be fully exposed in public, and not only that, but violated in public at the workplace. Drives me absolutely batty... it does, of course, speak to the general perception of woman as maternal virgin/woman as seductive whore imagery that has been plaguing women for centuries... oh wait, I thought I wasn't going to start on issues of sexuality and gender here...

Jordan VI

So, I just went out into one of the wadis and spent the night out in a "traditional" (though modified for tourists' tastes) Bedouin tent. It was in a wadi surrounded by massively huge sandstone mountains, which were incredibly beautiful. Again, not a local woman to be seen all day and all night. Ate lovely food over the fire, tried playing the oud (which is a traditional stringed instrument - very beautiful to listen to, unless I'm playing it - then, it's just ugly and sad), given the tabla to play instead (which is a djembe-type instrument), which worked much better, saw some camels wandering through the desert (how picture perfect - a caravan of camels traipsing along a sand dune), got a marriage proposal (what a big surprise), and smoked some sheesha (though, I learned I apparently don't know how to breathe properly, as I couldn't get the nargileh to work and somehow got the coals to burn out, which is the opposite of what it's supposed to do - that just figures; being told I don't know how to breathe...).
This brings up again the point of the dissertation I would write about sexuality here that completely baffles me, but I still won't. However, one of our stops was this huge 500m high sand dune that our guide wanted us to climb in order to admire the view (which, admittedly was quite breathtaking). Well, one of the girls, who runs marathons, clambered up OK, and the men wouldn't be eligible for "help" from the guide, so guess who needed help? Well, that would be, uh, me. Managed to get up about halfway, and wanted to take a breather, maybe some photos. Turn around and start climbing up again, and the guide comes up behind me, grabs my butt and starts pushing me up from behind. I'm, like, "Dude, that is totally OK, I don't need a bum-push up the dune, I'll get there in my own time"... This, combined with a marriage proposal, and getting literally leered at while wearing my baggy khakis, my head covered, and a T-shirt that is two sizes too big was just a little bit too much for me and my pseudo-feminist tendencies for one day...

Jordan V

I think one of the funny things about being abroad and meeting ex-pats are the gut-bustingly hilarious stories about things that they miss about home that they share - including missing Velveeta singles slices so bad (it being ridiculously expensive here, which is all the more odd considering it's NOT EVEN REALLY CHEESE - we're talking about $8 for those small packs with the 12 slices of cheese) that one friend here asked for one package of Velveeta cheese for her anniversary present (and is now considering asking for a package for Christmas :) )! Or about how one was missing a particular brand of scented candles so bad, that they brought a whole suitcase FULL back with them, and then had the customs agents individually smelling each lovely candle, with the scents of pumpkin pie, sugar cookie, french vanilla, etc etc wafting through customs at the Queen Alia airport... or how one person brought over a 10 lb ham in her carry on purse...
However, this is more for language learning today. Actually, I don't really think I know that much, but I am trying to use and learn Arabic as much as I can (I've already attended one Arabic class), and people around me are saying that I'm picking it up relatively quickly (so why can't I learn Korean or Spanish, then?).
So, I've already learned how to conjugate some verbs, how to ask for several different items, and some other useful phrases. But here's a small spattering of some phrases that I've been using over the past week or so:
shoukran: Thank you
Salaam alaykum. Kifkom: Peace be upon you. How are you doing today?
Biddi mayy: I would like some water please.
heloua tifil: what a beautiful baby boy.
la, ma biddi finjaan qafwi: no thank you, I would not like a cup of coffee.
Some of the other stuff I've learned is hard to transliterate into English without pronouncing it as well, and most of the other stuff is just random words cobbled together. I figure I've still got time to learn more as I go along...

Jordan IV

It is currently Friday, and thus the "rest day" of the week out here; hence, there isn't much to do, which has been a blessing, as I actually woke up at 10am this morning, and now have some time to write before I'm off for the day.
I think the more I travel, the more I realize at how deficient I am in various areas of intelligence. Riding through this countryside, I really wish I was well versed in geology, botany, archeology and anthropology; I think these would all help me have a deeper appreciation of all that I'm seeing and touching and experiencing.
At any rate, this country is interesting in how it is divided. Some have told me that, as the formation of all these borders out here was decided by Europeans, and not by the people themselves, it (much like Africa) has led to various tensions and conflict over the years. If you look on a map, Jordan is shaped kind of like an upside-down "L". As has been explained to me, the northern region is a bit less conservative (which is a TOTALLY relative term), as they are more influenced by Syria (hence, why I say it's a TOTALLY relative term) and Lebanon in their attitudes and cultural understandings. The southern region is considerably more conservative, as a good portion of their influence arises from Saudi Arabia (hence, again, why I say this is a RELATIVE term).
I am currently in the southern end of the country. A woman described to me that ever since she moved here from Amman, she has felt that she hasn't really been accepted here, that she feels pressure to wear the hijab, and that she doesn't really belong, in comparison to living in the north. I am really hoping that this desire for a sense of place and belonging might actually be met by the people that I am working with, as I am sure that they can provide an answer to that desire!!
This also, of course, reflects more of attitudes within urban centres. As you may well imagine, rural areas always lag behind urban areas in terms of progressive thought and attitudes. The other day, I was in a small village, only about 10km out of the capital city, and it was like night and day. You'd think 10km hardly makes a difference (heck, you'd still be within Toronto city limits), but it does. By that point, we already had a lack of vehicles, many more beasts of burden, many more full-body coverings, etc. It actually didn't even have its own mosque, since there was already uniformity in thought, so there was no need for a house of worship and teaching. So, I suspect, whether north or south, this distinction between more liberal and more conservative values in rural areas is a moot point.
Furthermore, one of the things that make me wish I was a man at times is the liberty with which they can move through the world. Walking through the streets here, it is rare that you will see women; as far as you can tell, you'd think it was a country full of men. You truly do feel like an anomaly, as for every woman you might see in the street, there are about 40 or 50 men to balance her out - literally. So I might walk for blocks and blocks and not have any face time with a woman at all. Which makes it a bit disconcerting to walk through the streets at times.

FFT

The idea that everybody else approaches the Bible with baggage and agendas and lenses and I don't is the ultimate in arrogance. To think that I can just read the Bible without reading any of my own culture or background or issues into it and come out with a "pure" or "exact" meaning is not only untrue, but it leads to a very destructive reading of the Bible that robs it of its life and energy.
- Ron Bell

Jordan III

There are a bunch of observations that I wanted to make, but I am not convinced that they would be coherent, one with the other, but we'll see how I make do:
I have never met so many Americans personally in my lifetime, I believe, as I have in the past few days. This is both SUPER, and not so great. I am greatly encouraged by seeing how plentiful they are, how willing they are to take part and doing what they are called to do. I totally love the hospitality and the size of the personalities of Americans - they are so big, their personalities come right over, invite you in, and give you a big hug hello! However (and this is TOTALLY NOT an observation based on people that I've met; rather, it's more from observing the dominant culture), I can begin to get a sense (right! How arrogant of me to say after one week that I can understand Middle East/Western tensions!) of why we in the West are so despised. Recognizing of how many economies out here are inextricably linked with that of the USA, how dependent they are on American investment, infrastructure, etc, how there is the love of the entrepreneurial spirit, but hate of the cultural values that come with that - I think there is a sense of, kind of like Gollum, a love-hate relationship that ultimately eats at and consumes the very one that wants what it cannot have... if that makes any sense... probably not...
I think this could lead into the very warped (not that we don't have our own neuroses in the West) views of sexuality and women, but that would get too complex, so instead I'll go onto another ethnic observation: For some reason, Chinese women are generally perceived here to be prostitutes. I suspect, sadly, that this is because many Chinese women are trafficked here for massage parlours and brothels. This has, of course, been a bit problematic for me. I have to articulate quite clearly that I am Canadian, I am NOT Chinese, I am of Korean heritage, I am NOT Chinese. It's helpful that I'm much taller and bigger than the average Asian female anyways, so I'm usually assumed to be Korean or Japanese anyways, which are ethnicities that are 'in the clear' (because both cultures are much less likely to traffic their own women).
I think that's all I'll write for now, as I have to go teach another English class (funny that! I had no idea what a gerund was until a few days ago!).

Jordan II

I know I don't usually write this frequently when I'm away, but I figure I've got wireless internet for now, and likely, as this trip progresses (and/or internet coverage gets a bit more spotty), then the updates will be less frequent.
One thing I did want to share was some of the aural experience here. Certainly, there is the five times daily call to prayer that rings out throughout the city - technically, I believe they try to situate the mosques such that there is a relatively uniform coverage, so that pretty much everyone can hear the call, if you're listening for it. It's actually not terribly intrusive, except for the morning call, which is at about 4am. Luckily, because of the jetlag, I'm only hearing it and rolling back over in bed, which is a blessing.
The other one was hearing the ice cream truck jingle rolling through our neighbourhood. I asked someone what that was, as I couldn't believe that an ice cream truck would be roaming around a residential neighbourhood at 8am... I've since learned it's actually the propane truck, driving around, full of propane tanks (now is that an accident waiting to happen, or what?) calling people to come out and buy their daily propane needs... since then, I've heard it in all sorts of neighbourhoods at people's houses... only instead of having children run out with their loonies and toonies in hand, you see housewives coming out to get their propane ration for the day... apparently, the guy sitting in the back of the flatbed truck used to just play percussion on all these tanks, but I guess the potential danger of that changed them over to the ice cream tune...
Today, I actually was at a half-day clinic for Iraqi refugees, but mainly worked as a pharmacist, dispensing and doing inventory on medication, as I truly lack language skills (unfortunately, it is incredibly hard to make a real impact without heart language), though I did see some patients, and actually dealt with some interesting pathology, nonetheless. Furthermore, I also taught an ESL class, which is really funny, seeing as I've never taught ESL before. Luckily, the class was much more shatreen (smart) than I, so it ran relatively smoothly, I hope... It was certainly interesting in getting the Jordanian perspective on international politics, that's for sure...

Jordan I

So I spent my first day exploring the city of Amman, and I must say, how come nobody has ever told me about kinafeh before? It is possibly the tastiest dessert I've had in a long time - think baklava, but hot and fresh, with cheese - yummers! I'm going to try to look for it when I return... we ate it hot, straight off the street, with mint tea...
Amman is actually the ancient site where the Ammonites once were - in fact, I saw where Uriah the Hittite was allegedly sent to his death when fighting on behalf of King David. It is a city initially set upon seven hills, though, with the increasing urban sprawl, is up to about 20 hills or so now. The eastern portion of the city is where the Old City is found (which, interestingly enough, I found the souks not nearly as labyrinthine and confusing as in Morocco), and the further east you go, you end up further in Palestinian refugee camp territory. The western portion (which is where I am currently staying) is where the city is sprawling out to, so there are many new townhouse and apartment developments, the rise of the shopping mall, Starbucks and McDonalds... which brings up the interesting point at how "civilization" tends to always head west and my theories as to why that is... but I digress...
That being said, there are many Roman, Ummayad and Byzantine examples of archeology all over the place... I knew I'd see some here, but it seems very interesting to see old Byzantine churches and Roman amphitheatres in the middle of town. Saw several large mosques, several Roman structures, and the biggest flagpole in the world (flying, of course, the Jordanian flag).
Managed also to ride several taxis and a bus (sitting with women, of course) and ate falafel in an alleyway at one of the oldest falafel huts in the city.
The most exciting thing about today, however, was worshipping with the national church. Yes, there were a few Western songs, but most of it was beautifully Arab in flavour. Even MORE exciting than that was actually witnessing the beginnings of a missional movement within the national church... this is terribly exciting! Even if it's only a few small seeds, this is an exciting and promising development!! It thrilled my heart just to see it in its very infancy!

London I

I know that technically, I'm not really 'here', as it was just a layover, but it was really odd: I got punched in the head twice while in the UK! I'm not entirely sure how, or why, but it is a bit perturbing when you get beaned twice in the same country... the first time, I was just sleeping in Heathrow, with my jacket covered my head, lying on some benches, and then something dropped on my head... by the time I got up, the perpetrator was gone! And then another man elbowed me in the head while he was trying to pick up his suitcase (just in terms of height, this doesn't make any sense, as my head was clearly much higher than his suitcase AND his elbow, so I TOTALLY don't understand how that happened... clearly, I am lacking in physics skills...)... maybe the British don't like me...
Irrespective, I've made it here safely, and haven't been able to make any observations yet, really, as it's 11pm here and quite dark... the adventures will soon begin...

Starring in Dialogue...

So, having been served my first official malpractice complaint, I am surprised at how zen-like I've taken it. I suppose one only has to be threatened enough times such that, when the real deal happens, it's almost anti-climactic. I suppose part of it is also is that I was half-expecting some other shoe to drop this week (though I certainly didn't expect a shoe this big), and I know that it is not flesh-and-blood that is responsible for this happening. I suppose part of it is also that I know that there is Greater, and that I am unshakeable in that belief.
At any rate, I know there is much going on 'behind the scenes' of the state of wakefulness that you and I live in. I know that everything will work out the way that it was intended to, so there is great comfort in that, and really, at this point, there's nothing I can really do about it this week, anyways...

The god of mammon

I am really really hating money right now. I hate how it tries to control you, I hate how it makes you fret and worry unnecessarily, I hate how it makes you believe it is indispensible and you can't live without it, I hate how it makes you believe that your worth is tied up in its existence.... actually, looking at that list, money is like a really awful boyfriend... Usually I have a fairly healthy relationship with money (I hope and pray), but I think when you realize you need gobs of it all at once, it's enough to give you a big headache...

FFT

We have sung our songs of vict'ry,
We have prayer to You for rain;
We have cried for Your compassion
To renew the land again.
Now we're standing in Your presence,
More hungry than before;
Now we're on Your steps of mercy,
And we're knocking at Your door.

How long before You drench the barren land?
How long before we see Your righteous hand?
How long before Your name is lifted high?
How long before the weeping turns to songs of joy?

Lord, we know Your heart is broken
By the evil that You see,
And You've stayed Your hand of judgement
For Your plan to set them free.
But the land is still in darkness,
And we've fled from what is right;
We have failed the silent children
Who will never see the light.

How long before You drench the barren land?
How long before we see Your righteous hand?
How long before Your name is lifted high?
How long before the weeping turns to songs of joy?

But I know a day is coming
When the deaf will hear His voice,
When the blind will see their Saviour,
And the lame will leap for joy.
When the widow finds a Husband
Who will always love His bride,
And the orphan finds a Father
Who will never leave her side.

How long before Your glory lights the skies?
How long before Your radiance lifts our eyes?
How long before Your fragrance fills the air?
How long before the earth resounds with songs of joy?

-Stuart Townsend

So, who's the minority, exactly?

One of the things I've been noticing, since I've been trying to ride The Better Way more often, are the advertisements. The last few times I've been riding, I've been walking up and down the subway car, counting the models in the advertisements. On my non-scientific survey, I have noted that >85% of all the human models depicted in TTC ads are white. Which, of course, means for the rest of us, we only make up <15% of the representation. This, I find particularly odd in a city that is >50% visible "minorities"...

HIS-tory lesson

I know I haven't written much lately, just quoting some super thoughts by others who think much better than I, but today was interesting. It was nice having my story, HIS-story, being narrated to me again. The reason why I can have hope. The reason why I can say with confidence that our God is a good God, as stunning as that statement has been to others lately. The reason that I think that a better world is possible, is necessary, is tangible and real. The reason why we can smell on the air, nay, (fore)taste on our tongues that there is kingdom lurking on the edges of our imaginations...

FFT

When greed and consumerism are exposed, when arrogance and irreverance are unplugged, when hurry and selfishness are named and repented of, when the sacred-secular rift in our thinking is healed, the world and all it contains (widows, orphans, trees, soil) are revalued and made sacred again.
- Brian McLaren

FFT

The whole point of Christianity is that it offers a story which is the story of the whole world. It is public truth.
- NT Wright

FFT

How often have we craved light on our life in the world, only to be summoned to ponder our destiny in eternity. How often have we been preoccupied with the church local, and instead found out vision turned to the Church triumphant and universal. And how often have we asked that worship bless our souls with peace, only to hear the lesson for the day calling us to a holy warfare. How often have we desired strength to overcome the world, only to learn that we are to be stoned and sawn asunder in the world. How often have we sought comfort to our sorrows, and instead found the sorrows of the world added to our own. Such reversals may be strange to men. But only such contradiction answers to realities both relevant and irrelevant that are at the heart of the Church's worship.
- Paul Waitman Hoon

FFT

Christianity might be a good thing if anyone ever tried it.

-George Bernard Shaw

IKEA World

So, I was thinking about No Lifeguards on Duty's song "IKEA World" (which, incidentally, is on my iPod, if anyone's interested), and reading in the Toronto Star about how IKEA is sooooo passé for the queer community (which, of course, has nothing to do with me), and thinking about functional, fun, affordable furnishings for the home (which, of course, has much to do with me).... so I wandered in there after work today... I know, I know: some have said why I would even bother with any IKEA furniture in the first place - I should just go for the big bucks and buy furnishings that are more "appropriate" to my "lifestyle" (whatever that means).... that being said, I did spend a day trip when I was living in Sweden to go visit the original IKEA with another fellow Canadian...
However, there is something appealing in the 'fun factor' of the IKEA store; it's laid out like a Hansel and Gretel maze, and you amble along these meandering pathways amongst Hopsens, and Poangs, and Stufels, and are astounded by all the little details of items that are needed for the home... Ann... you know this means you!

FFT

OK: This was SOOOO cheese, it made me groan, but I figured, I definitely needed the groan, so I pass it onto you.... and, this is far better than spamming everybody....

A thief in Paris planned to steal some paintings from the Louvre.
After careful planning, he got past security, stole the paintings and made it safely to his van.
However, he was captured only two blocks away when his van ran out of gas.
When asked how he could mastermind such a crime and then make such an obvious error, he replied...

'Monsieur, that is the reason I stole the paintings. I had no Monet to buy Degas to make the Van Gogh.'

. . .(and you thought I didn't have De Gaulle to send this on to someone else!)
Well, I figure I have nothing Toulouse.

The God of small graces...

So what was terribly encouraging today (actually, there were lots of small graces all day, which is kind of really nice when you notice most of them happening... D, S, A, S, R, and A, to name but a few of them) was seeing people of many tongues and nations giving thanks to God. We had some Mandarin, some Hakka, some Korean, some ASL, even some Swahili! It was gorgeous hearing all these tongues praying and praising! What I particularly found incredibly comforting was listening to the Korean adult choirs... the power in that singing.... it brings back comforting memories of childhood in church, listening to the adults singing with passion and power... makes me feel like I'm wrapped up in a warm, woolen, non-itchy sweater, even when they're singing Haydn cantatas like crazy...

Aretha Franklin needed!

One dilemma that I don't think I've had to work through before is: What do you do if, for various reasons, you've lost all respect for someone you once held in very high esteem? Not insofar as they've fallen off a pedestal; rather, very large paintcans full of flaws have covered the otherwise Pollock-style painting of their life... Of course, it's not an issue where there's hate or disgust, just an utter lack of respect... How does one deal with that in integrity? I realize, for the most part, I tend to think the best of most people, until they demonstrate otherwise, which, I suppose, sets me up for disappointment when they can't fulfill such imagined roles. I don't think that that is really the case this time: instead, I think it becomes very hard to look someone in the eye when you just can't bear to look... It makes me wonder how the congregants of Haggard managed to redeem and restore...

Men and Women

You know what I love? I love big, burly men who can still sit with you and sip tea while holding your hand and dispensing sage advice. Who aren't afraid to love you through pain, who aren't afraid to hold you and tell you convincingly that things will get better, and who are still very much their own men. They are a rare breed, but I have been overshowered with three in very short order: kudos to A, C and D for being such blessings...
You know what else I love? I love strong, empowered women who pray with such power and conviction that you can feel the Spirit working in your soul. I love the wisdom that they bring from experience, from sharing how the 'stones in your belly' can strengthen, not sink you. I love the nuturing vision that they bring.... the voices of the women speaking into my life today resonate with potential...
You know what else I love? I love our God, who is so good, all the time, all the time, even when it doesn't seem so, but I am convinced that this is so, as He cannot be anything other than what He is...

Fight for injustice! (but only if it helps me)

So, I figure, since I'm up again (despite going to bed after midnight last night), I might as well write something, even if it becomes a bit incoherent. I think there are many injustices and unfair situations in the world, but I find it interesting how the most pressing and the most important seem to occur when they happen to you, yourself. Certainly, I am finding myself at the short end of the stick, and disliking it very very much. However, what is even more maddening is how, for most injust and unfair situations, there is little recourse for rectifying situations. Sure, if it's technically a 'legal' matter, one does have the judiciary system in place to help with litigation and the like, but most other unfair situations do not have such avenues of restitution. Most, instead, often require the wisdom of Solomon, which also tends to be a bit scarce....

Insert maniacal laughter here, Part III....

I suppose I can take solace in the fact that I have a good reason this time 'round... it doesn't make it any easier... I suppose, since I'm going to end up being CCLOHP, it doesn't matter much...

Insert maniacal laughter here, Part II....

OK... three hours later.... I'm not sure how long I can take this...

Insert maniacal laughter here....

So, finally, after months and months and months of not sleeping, having nightmares and dreams which were completely uninterpretable, and going generally crazy from the lack of rest, I managed to get a good two weeks in there where I could actually sleep an almost-full night. Well, that's gone to hell in a handbasket... look at this! A random midnight posting, cackling like a banshee about how I can't sleep again...

FFT

I hear it in the hospitals, I hear it in ORs. I hear it in emergency departments, doctors' lounges, wards. Elevators make great enclosures for the phrase. I catch a faint echo when I approach any hospital, feel stronger vibrations beneath my feet when I walk through the main doors. I fear that my hospital, constructed in the late 1970s, has absorbed into its structure a new resonance beyond the wind-whipped lashings of its frame and the perpetual PA squawks of pages and alarm tests.
Stupid family doctor.
Dumb GP.
I never would have done that.
What was he thinking?
The drone amounts to a constant hum, a buzz that has become a consensus in our institution. Mistakes are viewed, from the omniscient vantage of elapsed time, as inevitable by beings who have practised their mantra well: stupid family doctor. Missed upswings in electrocardiograms, the lost dots on x-rays: in review, these are less errors and more the product of systemic "poor management" by stupid family doctors.
The catchphrase in ubiquitous, perhaps a greater addition to this hospital than any of the other renovations: more important than the cardiac catheterization laboratory, the palliative care wing, the air-transport/helipad system, medical informatics, geriatric restorative care and ascendant diagnostic imaging. A hundred beds could be added to our numbers, a thousand! The single greatest change in the firmament of modern Canadian medicine will remain the death of the generalist.
I hear the ritual sacrifices to the many specialist blood gods and it saddens me to understand that the policy of making-stupid has become assimilated by patients themselves. I acquiesce to requests for second opinions, listen to complaints about prior care, and hear dumdum undertones in consult letters when my own patients return and criticize my care according to what they've been told by people I've asked for help.
During residency I heard it in the OR. I heard it in elevators, in the emergency room, and on the wards. The difference now is that the sound penetrates my own walls, that I heard it in my own office. Before it applied to others. Now it applies to me. The growth of knowledge has led to the growth of privilege, the ease of retrospective criticism. Though I never knew the era, I believe that physicians were better served by the rotating internship, when the undifferentiated masses arrived on the newly-minted doctor's doorstep fresh and unmanaged, ready for a general working-through. That way, one understood the difficulties of primary care and not just the deficiencies.
Broadcast from the hospital barricades, the harmonic of GP illegitimacy makes me hate this myth, the myth of Doctor Stupid.

- Dr. Ursus

Blathering on the same theme

(I'm over the "tired of people" thing now). Sorry to harp on the same subject again, but culture and worldview are really profound tethers and blinders with which we see and understand the world. I find it interesting that what one finds sedate and respectable, another would find boring and a snore-fest. Conversely, what one finds funny is also horrifying or vulgar to another. And yet, we would find it easy to accuse the former of having no perspective, that they cannot really 'see' the truth about the situation, whereas the latter needs to adjust their frame of reference to be able to understand the situation 'normally'. Very odd.
It's odd in that it is very much like the old story of the blind men describing the elephant. Yet the situation, and the reality, remains the same, in all cases. One step further, and then one needs to consider the application to faith, really, as we are all blind men, sensing but a glimpse of the elephant, and can we really be able to say with full assurance that we understand it all?

Maybe I want to be a hermit instead...

That's it. I've had it with people. Maybe I do want to be in a box... I've had enough of them for today, that's for sure... maybe I'll change my mind about it tomorrow, but I think I've had a good run of extroversion for a while...

But I want to be Icarus...

I often wonder if our ability to expand our horizons out into the universe inevitably leads to us requiring to regress temporarily at times in order to regroup. What I mean to say is: Is it inevitable that you need to go through times where it's just hard to care anymore about the big wide world and all you can really do is cope with yourself and your little life and your little issues? It's incredibly frustrating to be squished into a little box and forced to cope in there, with folded wings and clipped feathers, when we are all meant to fly freely... it bothers me muchly when individuals want to be boxed in, to have their blinders on, to put their shoulder to the plow and naval-gaze at the furrows, all the while missing the grand vistas all around them, but when I start doing the same, I think I may go mad...

No/low detail orientation...

Now, I'm usually not a big meetings person; I find all that jargon about 'interfacing', 'networking', 'collaborating', etc etc etc very tiring. However, so far this past week, I've been to several different meetings that have been exciting, fresh and invigorating! My planning meeting for the child sexual trafficking conference that is running this weekend was encouraging. Then I had a food advocacy meeting, which always gets me very excited and happy about agriculture and food justice. Then tonight, I've just returned from an IFES appreciation meeting, where, basically, I got to eat dessert and hear about all the wonderful praise items that blossomed out of the various efforts of everyone who came out. Now -that's- the way meetings should be...
That being said, I have one more major one this week... something tells me it's not going to be quite as pretty or as beautiful as the other ones...

C'mon, 'fess up!

OK, I know I've mentioned this before, but I'm really curious as to -who- exactly is reading this on a regular basis... more specifically: Who the heck was reading my blog at 6am this morning for an hour? Show thyselves!!!

The timing's a little -off-

What I find incredible in our day and age, how difficult it is to do the most important things in life. Case in point: I'm trying to meet with someone to debrief about an event that happened two weeks ago, and after much discussion, we both realized we couldn't actually sit together in the same general vicinity for another two. I think that's silly - from what I learned at a faculty development workshop yesterday, feedback should be given in a timely fashion, not a ridiculous four weeks later... certainly, I'm at least half to blame for that pathetic development, as it does take two to tango...

Despite the fact that we're commanded not to...

This past week, I've realized that the best way to not stress out about something is to get stressed out about something else much more imminent and pending. It's very odd, but a big worry I'd been ruminating about for the past few weeks went straight out the window! with this newest one being dumped in my lap. This is actually a good thing, as the new one is actually concrete, real and happening, as opposed to just conjecture...

Picking at the fraying edges...

It's been an incredibly emotionally draining week just past, and it kind of bothers me as there are several "loose ends" or "unresolved conflicts" (actually, I prefer that, as that is exactly what they are) that have not yet been adequately dealt with. I know I'm not the type that needs to have things figured out and tied up before moving onto the next project (ie the STJ types), but it is a bit irritating, having loose bits hanging around all over the place...

A third of my Bible was written by terrorists and murderers

A big concern that I have been thinking about today is just how much does it take to love someone, let alone a whole planet of people? I think it is hard to even begin to imagine having a big enough heart to see that everybody, absolutely everyone, is not beyond redemption, is not beyond hope, is not beyond the beyond. Not just the people I like, or the people in my socio-economic-cultural-racial class, but everyone, from the very great to the very small.
This is a difficult teaching from Jesus, I must say. I think we Jesus-followers have been held back by our lack of love. I'm not sure how we can capture a bigger vision; shoot - I can hardly figure out how to better love the ones that are sitting around me. I sincerely apologize to those who read this, thinking that Christianity is a bunch of crap, 'cause sometimes, when I look at it, I think that too. I can understand why it would be seen that way - I'm still petty and shrill and ridiculous, and don't demonstrate well God's vision for how life was meant to be, and on my part, I apologize. I'm not quite sure how to get over that roadblock, but I do know God's vision is BIG! and His love is lavish. Trying to scope that down, and demonstrate that through me is a daunting task, for I am small, and my love is very limited...

Circumventing the issue....

Perhaps I think about culture too much, but I was discussing with a (non-Asian) friend today about cultural differences in navigating several different sensitive areas in interpersonal relationships. I think what struck me was, as I was describing a situation in dealing with someone 'indirectly', in an Asian sort of way, that it does and can actually work! This is surprising to me, as, banana that I am, I tend more towards the notion that 'direct' methods should work better in a North American context. This also surprised my friend, who thought it was interesting that dealing with the situation in that manner did, indeed, appear to be the more effective way in dealing with it. Amazing the things you learn by talking...

Holistic thoughts...

Sometimes I wonder whether I could diagnostically be labelled with 'tangential thinking'. It's actually quite a good thing that perhaps I don't lecture/teach/preach much, as I'm not entirely sure I would be able to transmit any concise information in an alloted amount of time. I ramble, I pontificate, I veer off on tangents, and forget what my main point was... circuitous thinking, perhaps? I think perhaps I would have made a great Oxford don, with a tweed cardigan and pipe, sitting in a wingback chair, puffing and pontificating away, while undergrads milling at my feet would nod off, wake up, and realize I still hadn't gone very far in my train of thought... or perhaps I would have been shut up in some grand insane asylum since I could never make very much sense...
This all comes up as a so-called friend accused me of 'thinking like a girl' (um, excuse me? How else would I think?), by which he actually meant (I think) that I couldn't think linearly, logically or rationally. This also comes up as someone asked me to talk about a topic that I think would take me several hours to be able to say anything of import or satisfaction to me, but of which I would only have about five or ten minutes to get a point across.
I'd like to imagine that instead of stating that I can't think linearly, it would be better to say that I can think in starbursts, in diffracting sunlight formations, in ripples of water, and in echoes...

A house is not a home...

One of the things that I have wrestled with is the notion of what authentic community actually looks like - I think the longer I think about it, the less sense it makes to me. And then, I get tired of thinking, and temporarily decide it's not even worth fighting for. In discussion with old friends from Germany, I briefly realized community could potentially exist, as tenuous as it may be, despite distance. Or perhaps, it was more that, despite the miles and miles, and the infrequent contact, sometimes one is graced with flickers of light. This is also combined with thought (of course) about the nature of culture and the role that it plays in the structure and form of community.
With all this thinking, and the tangents that flow from this, I tend to lapse into periods where I just can't be bothered... I suppose this is the dilemma between passion and apathy... or perhaps, more accurately, passion without wisdom can't sustain itself??? (darn those Afghanis!)

Fruitcake

I have a few random thoughts running around in my head, but I really do have to mention this one: I think guys, in general, should not describe themselves as fruit. Case in point: just over this weekend, a friend mentioned that he was like a peach - sweet on the inside, but bruises easily. That's just not right. Particularly in the context of explaining why he couldn't go all out in playing volleyball in that he was worried about bruising. Just not right... men just really shouldn't be using analogies that draw attention to their general fruitiness, especially if there is grave concern about their need to go intergalactically to find a girlfriend... :P

Wow, can I touch you?

So, Gina and I had our last concert (well, maybe in Toronto, at least) before she heads out into the big wide world... and it was totally exciting! I'd never thought that I'd ever get to perform in a venue that cool! We even had our own labelled dressing room with the mirrors and lights - it was totally Dreamgirls styling! And we got free beer (courtesy, of course, of one of the major sponsors)! It was a terribly fun evening... even with our fan-groupies, and a few autograph signings... big kudos to the big talent that makes it all possible... sigh, it will be terribly anti-climactic to sing with anybody else... it's a bitter-sweet-sweet feeling, to realize that we're getting old.... don't, don't, don't, don't you forget me...

It must be Wednesday....

It sometimes is very difficult to balance the worldviews of vastly different cultures on what "suffering" entails... sometimes, when someone tells me that they have had one bout of diarrhea, or a cold, and they are "suffering terribly, too much, too much, it's too hard to go to work", I want to grab them and shake them, and yell at them, "Well, at least you're not living in Darfur, so you can watch your wife being raped in front of you before being hacked to pieces and then having your children slowly die from typhoid or malaria plaguing the refugee camp you've run to, while frantically worrying about where their next meal will come from" or " At least you're not living in a North Korean concentration camp" or "At least you have a roof over your head, food in your belly, and clothes on your back, and your family is alive and well, JERK!"
I sometimes feel like I live in culture shock everyday...

Footwear Fetish

I think I've been spoiled by Crocs and Birks, as I'm finding it increasingly difficult to tolerate 'normal' footwear, which is basically anything with a closed toe... of course, this may also be because I was convinced to walk downtown from home in a brand-new pair of shoes (OK, that part was my idea, which wasn't so smart). I mean, I've done it before, though not for a very long time, so I suppose it's really the shoes that did me in. Generally, I think it's a good idea not to go walking great distances without well-worn shoes. In the rain. Though, if I really had my choice, I suspect I would walk around barefoot, if it wasn't for all the dirt/garbage/doggy doo/etc that would cause problems, or if it wouldn't draw obvious comparisons to Britney Spears...

Mimicking MacKinnon

So, I would argue that the attempt to have a 100-mile dinner was quite well done, and was quite delicious and beautiful to look at! Nicely done with the locally made salad dressing (except for the peppercorns, of course)! And we ate aplenty! Certainly, it is much easier to be able to do this in August, when produce is at its peak, but we had a delightful afternoon... (I'm really sorry I forgot to bring my eggs along...)

Dreamland Lullabies

I was just asked the other day why it seemed that I slept all the time, which I thought was impertinent, really. Especially since I don't sleep all the time. However, I suppose if you add up a relatively recent chronicity of dreams and visions, four 24-hour shifts in one week, late night drives out to the 519 area code, open bars at weddings, and irritating roosters, I think one could be excused for being a bit fatigued in the day time, no?

Choose life! in order that you may live...

Do you suppose sometimes it's easier to live with apathy than with passion? I often wonder that, as it seems so often that we choose to live this way... I recognize living with passion every moment of every day gets pretty exhausting after a while, but it saddens me to think that we mainly choose to live in mediocre apathy most of the time... that we choose to stuff ourselves with banalities and celebrity (it's weird how I always catch up on my People reading and American Idol updates when I head outland) and ignore the greater issues at hand... especially when Jesus asks us to Think Bigger and Love Greater...

Harrowsmith observances

A few points from the countryside:
1. Went to the Keady Fair yesterday, which is a less insane, more authentic version of St Jacob's Market. I can't believe I get paid to eat kettle corn and assess livestock, ducks and various fruit preserves and beef jerky. By the way: I had forgotten just how yummy fresh kettle corn and fresh wild blueberries are.... mmmmmmm....
2. I can't emphasize this enough: When you are welding, WEAR A SAFETY MASK OR GOGGLES! I cannot emphasize this point enough. For some reason, I thought that would be a given - if you're working with potentially dangerous things, you'd take the proper safety precautions. Apparently, I am dead wrong. In four hours, I managed to see two guys with injuries to their faces and their eyes because they didn't protect them - AT ALL! Mutter, mutter: some of the dumbest and bone-headed things to do ever...

Finding Me-now...

When you think about which movie character or celebrity you might resemble most, who do you think of? It's been (re-)pointed out to me that I'm like Dory the fish. A fish. This is, of course, not the first time, nor even the second time, that the uncanny resemblance between myself and a blue fish has occurred. I would have to agree, however: in light of all the human, and humanoid, characters ever played on the silver screen, I think I am most like a very forgetful fish. I'm not convinced this is a sad or pathetic thing, but it is weird to be typecast...

Funny Face...

I notice that funny things tend to happen in threes...
Case in point: Yesterday, as I was coming downtown on the subway, it inexplicably stopped at Dufferin, with the doors open, green light on, with no explanation forthcoming as to why we were sitting there for five minutes. At about the five minute mark, the driver comes on the intercom saying, "Stay off the yellow stripe!", which didn't make a lot of sense, so everyone just looked at each other and shrugged, but OK.... two minutes later, she comes on again, this time saying, "Get back in the car, and let the police do their job!"... well, that did it - half of my car gets up and heads for the doors to see what's going on, which is totally understandable... I was sitting with some teens, and we were urging each other to go to the doors to find out what was going on, but as we were debating, the chimes came on, and the doors closed.... as we were on our way, the driver comes on again, and she says, "Ossington: You people are UNBELIEVABLE! Next station: OSSINGTON!!!" in the most annoyed manner... the entire car bursts out laughing!
Secondly, there was literally a fly in my soup at dinner, which was funny, as he was all semi-shriveled, though, I suspect, well-cooked, and landed me with a half-price dinner, which is always nice...
Thirdly, I think I saw the funniest movie that I've seen in a while, called Facing the Giants... I don't think they meant for me to find it funny, but I haven't giggled that hard at a movie for a while....

K005 or A007?

I think I've probably written about this before, but there is something inherently unsatisfying in 'slashing and burning' through a ton of work, just to get through to the other side. It almost seems like a survival tactic, just trying to get through, just trying to get to the end of another day, just trying to push on through to the other side.... there has to be a different way of doing this; there must be a different path...

The story-teller

I think there is great power in narrative. This must be because I am a product of a post-modern generation. As relativistic as narrative may be as a vehicle to transmit truth, I think there is something in all of our souls that resonates with a great story.
I love hearing good stories, and I think it was very encouraging me to hear of three good ones today, even though I had heard two of them previously. However, just as in childhood, there is great comfort in hearing good win and evil defeated in narrative, even if you hear them over and over again.
On the other hand, Jesus was into stories too, big time. He was a super story-teller as well, one of the best in history. Which adds another component - a guy named Glenn I met today fleshed out one of Jesus' best stories, and refreshed its beating heart for me. Journeying with him into the "far country" and back again was a great, though brief, adventure...

High School Confidential

Do you ever wonder if you're getting sucked into a high-school-esque scenario, complete with jocks, nerds and the cool crowd? I'm currently wondering that as well - it's kind of weird, kind of gives-me-the-heebee-jeebees kind of weird, kind of get-me-outta-here kind of weird... it's particularly weird, especially since I think I'm kind of like the goody-two-shoes-nerdy Sandy. And you know how that ends: she ends up compromising everything she used to be in order to vamp out and join the cool kids... now, to me, that's one of the most pathetic/tragic heroines in one of our modern myths... or, heaven forbid, if one should start off as Veronica, wanting to please the Heathers, and instead ends up going on a murderous rampage...

Goodbye, Ralph....

It struck me, watching a movie with a friend of mine the other evening, how odd the depiction is when women leave their husbands. For some reason, whenever in a movie a woman decides to leave, she never goes with anything more than a tiny little suitcase. You know the ones; those small little handbag-sized suitcases, big enough to hold two sweaters and a pair of shoes. She may also perhaps have her purse, and maybe a small dog, but that's it. Then, she usually has some parting words as she's heading out to the taxi, like, "Goodbye", or "I can't take this anymore, I'm leaving", or "I loved you once", or some such thing.
This strikes me as odd, as I was thinking, if I was going to leave, I believe I'd have a lot more than just two sweaters and a pair of shoes to take with me. Perhaps I'd need a U-Haul to take my stuff. Or perhaps I wouldn't need that much space at all - maybe my car trunk would do. However, this doesn't alter the fact that women have a lot of stuff - there's hardly enough room in those suitcases for adequate toothpaste/ shampoo/ toothbrush/ towel packing for just doing the basic hygiene things, once they get to their destinations in the taxicabs. So then I thought, perhaps in the movies, these women don't have to worry about those kinds of things. Or, perhaps the suitcases, in fact, don't hold two sweaters and a pair of shoes; maybe they just stuff them full of money, and then they leave.... I then also thought, "In the movies, do women who are planning on leaving their husbands specifically go out on a shopping excursion to find those kinds of suitcases?", for I imagined that it's not the usual household item to have; it's not a terribly useful sized suitcase for any other kind of travel, except for husband-leaving...
This of course, conversely, always strikes me in the movies that whenever this occurs, the husband usually stands there, relatively dumbstruck, and just watches her leave and get into the taxicab. How come they never say anything? I find movie archetypes very strange...

Practising what you preach (or, at least what is preached at you)...

I think sometimes, one of the most difficult things is applying something that you just learned. Sometimes, I find, there is, in fact, MORE opportunity to completely miss the point in some good teaching. What I mean to say is: Isn't it odd when you hear a particularly apt Word, and you think, gosh, that's good and important; I could see how that might apply to me, I should try to remember that for some vague time in the future, but not now, not for me in my current life, but then, WHAM! you find yourself tumbling into situations over and over again that challenge that notion, that forces you to actually take Word seriously, and wonder, wow, this is applicable now, and I totally cannot apply it with any real conviction, rightness or power... sigh...

As long as I don't have to play Pachebel's Canon...

So, after a very long hiatus, I picked up my viola to play again. And reminded myself quite quickly that I was never really the best player to begin with, and really, a viola needs a violin, or at least a cello, in order to 'fit' properly... I think it always was appropriate that I played viola - the supporting instrument, the undertone, the alto of the group - not the flashy violin, not the melodious cello, but really, backup and support...
However, now that it's re-emerged, I'm wondering how and where I could play it at my level, and strongly considering re-joining an orchestra again... hmmm, maybe that's just wishful thinking....

Needing a Daniel...

I remember a friend of mine once told me about a recurring dream that she had for many years that haunted her for nights on end. Eventually, when, after much prayer and thoughtful discussion, she realized what it signified and what it was meant for, the dream fled, and she has been free of it ever since.
Some have known of some sleep issues of late for me, but that's not the point. I've been having two recurring dreams of late, and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what they're meant for. The one, which prompted this writing, afflicted me this morning, and now, of course, I can't remember what it was about. The other has had a theme of baptism, of children, and of persecution. Once I remember the other one, I'll list that one too, but it'd be awfully handy to know what this is all about.

I think I've written about this before...

Let's be clear now: I don't hate mass emails. I just fail to see the point in them, most of the time. Or, perhaps more accurately, I really dislike how they are used inefficiently and ineffectively. We used to be able to function without letting everybody know absolutely everything about every little detail about said function/cause/email subject.
I don't mind getting a mass email, as long as it contains information that does, in fact, pertain to me. However, what doesn't make sense to me is the "reply to all" function, when the "reply" does not pertain "to all". There is, after all, a simple "reply" button. Otherwise, the mailbox gets even more cluttered with information that looks like it pertains to me, but, in fact, does not.
Case in point: If you're emailed about a party, or some such thing, does everyone really need to know if one person is wondering if they could bring an extra friend, or what they were planning on bringing to eat, or what shoes they were planning on wearing, or that they are going to be one hour late? NO. Emphatically, no.
That's common sense email etiquette: don't clutter the email box. No spam, no chain-mail, no cute video or flash presentation that you had forwarded that you think everybody in your address book needs to see (not unless it directly pertains to them), no powerpoint presentation with some esoteric puppies. In light of how, increasingly, individuals are literally drowning in their emails (I think it's sad when friends have to stay home in the evening, just to clean out their email boxes), I think it's a simple public service to retain email for useful information transmittal.
This also, of course, speaks to my bias against email as the main communication method between individuals. I faaaaarrrrr prefer speaking to someone in person, rather than maintain some email conversation (Exceptions, of course, are those people who live long distances away). Of course, that's obvious: If I like you, I will talk to you. A lot. The end. The much more efficient and enjoyable way to go, frankly.

"Strategic philanthropy"

So, on the way home today, I was listening to this discussion about the notion of strategic philanthropy, where, essentially, a marketing guy was talking about how corporations aligning themselves with various charitable issues causes a 'win-win' situation for everyone involved (gag, gag, oops, sorry, hard to control the reflex to throw up), such as CIBC aligning themselves with the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, in order to help them sell as many useless pink appliances and housewares as possible, for what appears to be (for all intents and purposes) lots of marketing hype and money-making, but not much from the actual results point of view.
Several of the counterpoints, I thought, brought up some poignant issues, but were quickly glossed and brushed over. One brought up the issue that hawking product, absolutely unrelated to the charitable cause, was not, in fact, philanthropy at all (seriously; what does a KitchenAid mixer have to do with breast cancer? Furthermore, what does a pink hockeystick have to do with breast cancer?). It is simply 'doing good' to 'look good', and makes profit the ultimate motive.
Another brought up the point that, in corporations controlling who gets corporate exposure and support, individual citizens have very little to no idea who or what their money (funnelled through the corporation, of course) goes to, whether it's effective and whether real change occurs. If one buys a Red Motorola phone, or a Red American Express card, how does one really know that means some mother in Tanzania is going to get her anti-viral drugs? (Of course, one of the most famous blunders was by Radiohead in their pathetically crappy efforts to reduce their carbon footprint; they claimed that they had paid for groves and groves of mango trees to be planted in the vague area of "Africa" to carbon offset their last world tour, yet, when follow up was done by a journalist, very few to none of these trees had been planted, and of those that were indeed planted, most of them died and were not replaced. Radiohead then sent out a statement saying it wasn't their responsibility to ensure that their mango trees were planted, which then begs the question: Whose was it??).
Yet another brought up the point that "unsexy" charities (such as for homeless people vs. upper class overweight women with breast cancer, malaria vs. HIV and chronic care elderly/mentally challenged vs. those darn 'cute' children from Sick Kids') are forgotten and waylaid in order to make room for the trendier and sexier issues. This, of course, results in the weaker, the lowlier and the humbler issues, even though equally meritous, to be ignored and alienated further from the mainstream.
Bah. That really irked me today. It would be really pleasant for me if people would just think more about issues.