What amazes me about Felix Baumgartner.

So hopefully by now you will all have seen the historic jump.  Whilst people will forever debate the merits of this event - that is, was this in the name of a money-making stunt or a mission of scientific discovery?  I'm sure there are other angles as well, but I will explore none of these here.  But there is something else that amazes me.  It's not the name.  It's not because of the sheer feat itself.  It's not even the obsession dedication that's got me.  Its actually his ability to put preparation into practice for a situation that he has never known.  Allegedly, he has been in preparation for over 5 years.  Countless skydives, base jumps, bungee jumps, physiological tests, etc just for this one event that he knows will occur.  Almost 2 hr 30 min of mental preparation of just being in the balloon itself.  Then, despite multiple items on the checklist, it just sort of happens.  You mutter something under your breath and you take a leap (of faith).  And he'd be lying if he said it turned out like he had hoped.  His visor was fogged up.  He was spinning out uncontrollably.  So much so, in fact, that he could have died due to the centrifugal forces which could have forced his blood vessels to explode (allegedly, that is.. I actually thought the rotational accelerations on the brain would have been substantial as well).  But then he was able to call on his experience.  He righted himself.  Suddenly a sigh of relief.  He hadn't even opened the chute yet, but the worst was behind him.  You can prepare, prepare and prepare some more, but until you get put into that position, you have no idea how you will react.  You can envision yourself spinning out of control, but until you get put in that position, you can't say how you will feel or react.  All you can say is how you would like to handle that situation.  So under more treacherous conditions than I (or most people) can claim to have ever been in, he was able to do exactly (maybe not exact, but he lived, so that's pretty exact for me) what he had prepared for.  Preparation in all facets of my life have never seemed to go so smoothly.That's what amazes me most about the jump.            

The eternal student

So by most accounts, I'm an educated man.  Pieces of paper tell me so.  Capital letters in combination with lower case letters and 'periods' at the end of my name also come to the same conclusion.  Am I overly smart?  Probably not.  I think I'm definitely better than average, but I don't think it's IQ or anything like that which separates me.  Ultimately, I think I just love learning.  I like knowing something about everything.  Granted there are a lot of topics I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of, but there isn't much that doesn't interest me in at least a cursory way.  I think what happened is that I found some things that really interested me and I have tried to explore them more deeply.  That really gets in the way of learning about pretty much anything else.  Luckily, I have now found Stanford's Free Online Courses (thanks Sarah, if you read this!).  Whilst there are probably loads of free courses out there, having Stanford's name attached to it creates an allure than I cannot readily describe.  Maybe it's just that it's cool.  Or that it is taught by real faculty at the university.  Who knows.  Either way, I have gotten myself involved.  I'm taking two classes: finance and creativity.  In a lot of ways, this helps my transition into a more industrial workforce which is what interests me at present.  Not that I dislike academia, but I think it's time for a change.  Time to see how people with money and no restraints do things.  I've always been interested in finance and I dabble (well, more than dabble) in the stock market.  So that one makes sense.  As for the creativity... well.. I've never actually been the most creative.  I am good at executing but not necessarily the best at coming up with my own concepts.  I'm not sure what I expect to come out of this but can't hurt to see what may be locked away in this (awesome) brain of mine.  Either way, this excites me.  And it helps my end goal: never stop learning.      

Life with wings

For anyone who knows me, they know that I have a certain distaste for flying.  And that's putting it lightly.  I just don't feel comfortable.  I don't even know what it is.  Thousands of flights leave every day from thousands of airports.  The statistics are impeccable with regards to commercial flight safety.  And yet during every flight, I seize up, get clammy hands, lose my appetite somewhat and I turn into a shade of my former self.  It really is a sight to behold and has, in the past, been a good source of comedy.  I suppose it doesn't help that the demeanour of fellow passengers is usually less than desirable.  But I digress.  What I really wanted to discuss was the notion that flying is just a microcosm of life itself.  Life, in a lot of ways, makes me uncomfortable.  Love, jobs, friends, health (in no particular order) have all caused me varying levels of anxiety at some point.  Things will be up, things will be down, things will be, in a word, turbulent.  And in the moment, turbulence always seems like the worse thing in the world to me.  But really it is just noise and, in life, there is definitely more than our share of noise.  Then something weird always happens to me.  I pretend as if I'm someone watching this plane.  I don't see any of the noise.  I just see a big metal box doing as it should.  In the air, going from origin to destination.  And I quickly realise, everything is okay.  There is no danger, no reason for anxiety. Despite the seeming lack of control, everything is still in control.  Eventually, the turbulence will subside.  So I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans, and calmly choose the next in-flight movie.  Regardless of how comfortable I feel, life goes on.   

The vagaries of life.

I keep having this recurring dream.  It's a silly dream.  A dream you can only have if you've got a certain level of addiction.  It involves me sitting at a live poker game, of the no-limit hold'em variety, with non-trivial stakes (let's say that I have over $500 on the table at the time).  I'm doing well in this game.  I have a good read on my opponents and more importantly I am hitting cards.  On this particular hand, I am dealt KK.  BOOM, I think to myself as I contain my level of excitement (only the 2nd best starting hand for those not in the know).  Anyway, I quickly begin building a pot by raising pre-flop and I get a couple callers.  The flop is always something super-safe like K72.  It is inconceivable to lose at this point as long as I play as I should.  And I do.  I jam the pot, and the two people keep calling.  Before you know it, I am all-in and as the last two cards come down, a 9 and another 2, I've now got the top FH and can't wait to turn over my cards.  In fact, I beat the other two people to it.  I flip over my cards and excitedly yell 'Kings full b*tches'.  Yet I look down at my cards and they're actually a queen and a jack.  I actually have nothing.  No hand.  Everyone stares at me in disbelief.  One of the other players turns over the cards that I thought I had and I'm left to walk way with nothing except for the tail between my legs.  How quickly this game can turn on you.  How quickly life can turn on you.  You may think you have the cards, you may be doing all the right things with these cards, but life can, in an instant, change your starting hand rendering you with nothing.  But at the end of the day, what more could I have done?  All I'll keep doing is all I've ever done, keep checking my cards, keep playing them right and hope that life doesn't change my starting hand.      

The Olympic "Dream"

The London 2012 Olympics is about 40 days away and the excitement is starting to build up.  The venue where I will be volunteering (which shall remain nameless) is being built and should round into shape soon.  Having done a test event last summer, I have a pretty good idea of what it will look like but it should still be awe-inspiring nonetheless.  Even the individual and team competitions are beginning to finalise so we can get a feel for some of the compelling story lines during the games.  With all this said, I can't help but be a little disappointed with my role in all this.

Since I can remember, I have always loved the Olympics.  I can't say that Canada ever does particularly well, and we may be more well known for doping and our races against animals, but there is something about the Olympics that is special.  In the main scheme of things, it's a very trivial event.  And yet it has the ability to unite and excite.  And after attending the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics, I was certain that I wanted to be a part of it. 

Roughly two years ago, applications for volunteering at the London 2012 games began.  I filled in an application.  Some time later (unknown), I was asked to join a test event and go for an interview, in that order.  I figured getting asked to do a test event, in itself, was a good thing.  Though over 1.5 years before the games, my excitement grew at a rapid rate.  Fortunately (or not), the interview process was able to slow this down.  I got someone whose first language was not english and who could not pose the questions properly, it seemed.  Not only was I worried that I wouldn't understand the question, I was worried that she wouldn't understand my answer.  That was a good confidence builder.  Luckily, details of the test event were released and I forgot all about the interview debacle.

The test event was great.  I performed great.  I left a great impression with the staff and was certain of my return for the big show.  It really seemed that my Olympics dream was coming to fruition.  And then it began.  The e-mails.  The events.  The mandatory events.  The mandatory visits to London.  The lack of financial support.  The lack of convenient times for these visits.  There comes a certain point where I no longer feel like I am a part of something special but rather that I am being taken advantage of.  Badly.  I feel manipulated.  Cheated.  The worse part is, throughout the process, all I've heard is how it's a games for Great Britain.  How the torch is being paraded around the entire mainland.  However, with each passing event, it becomes increasingly clear that this isn't a games for all.  It's a game for Londoners.  The number of train tickets, days off work I've had to take in preparation and during the games is costing me a fortune.  I'm being praised for my sacrifices - but I'm not sure what they have done to accommodate any of us.  I'm not saying that my Olympics Dream is dying, I just don't think I want to be sleeping on the situation anymore.

why we don't talk.

WE don't talk because WE, in this case and every other one I can think of, implies multiple persons. WE cannot just be ME. If I talk, but get no response, that is an example of ME talking, not US.

Forgive me, for let me explain. I have some friends who send me the simple message, "why don't we talk any more?" or something to that effect. Trouble is, more often than not, it is me who has initiated contact in the first place with some drawn-out drivel about my life summary over the last 3-6 months. This is then usually followed by no response, a few months of no contact and then the dreaded 'message'. Now I know how this works. If someone were to do the same to me (i.e. message me their life summary) and I don't respond within the next 7-10 days, I can comfortably say that I don't really think about them much in my life. That does not mean I do not like them and that I do not wish them well. But most likely, we're not friends. We've entered the zone of acquaintances. After all, if this person means so much to me, how hard would it be to just send a short message to say, "I'm fine, just been busy". That doesn't even require any creativity. Just a short moment of thoughtfulness and consideration so that I know you still think of me enough to acknowledge my existence. That is, in no way selfish but just human nature, I believe. Now, don't get me confused here. I do not require summaries of your life in order for me to stay friends with you. In fact, we don't need to talk for months on end. It's just that, if I take the time out of my day to message you something meaningful and you can't even acknowledge it, I think that's a pretty telling sign that you just can't really be bothered. And, frankly, I don't want to surround myself with people like this. For some reason, this realisation has taken longer to settle in with me than it probably should have. I suppose I hold on because usually these are people that, at some point in my life, really meant a lot to me. And its sad to see that its no longer that way. But its okay, I can absolve myself of these people and it's not fair to those currently in my life who make me the happy person I am. I do not need to chase the people of my past because it's clear that they are exactly that - people of the past. So before you wonder why we don't talk, just wonder when the last time you did.

What is my deal?

So I had a look through my recent posts. About half of them contain apologies about my inability to sustain a consistent blogging schedule. How can this be? I mean, how hard is this? It's not like there aren't things to talk about. Let's hope, once again, that I've turned a corner and will improve my ways... I'd say stay tuned, but let's wait until I develop a habit out of this.