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.

What's in an interview?

I think there are very few things that give you an instant shot of adrenaline, but I think a job interview is one of them. There is nothing like selling yourself that gets the heart racing a bit. I know it does for me, but that may be because I have not had much experience with interviews, specifically for jobs. In fact, my last job interview may have been 6+ years ago. I mean I've had jobs during my Ph.D. but none of those required interviews. So despite my qualifications and my familiarity with the department that is about to interview me, I fully expect there to be some nerves. I also hold myself to a higher level of pressure because of my qualifications; after all I am a man of higher education and they should expect a lot from me (as much as I expect from myself). This will be different than most other interviews I've had because not only will I be expected to talk about my own past research, but I will have to show how I can add value to a different area of research. Like most things, I look forward to the challenge and wish me luck..!

Do bad things really come in bunches?

For those close to me, you will know that this has not been a great month. Not for any one thing in particular, but it has seemingly been a never-ending episode of "murphy's law" (and I do not mean the sitcom starring candice bergen). But after giving this some more thought, does this really happen or does our perspective on life change with each setback? That is, do we actively look for the bad in every situation to reinforce our run of bad 'luck'. Once a single bad event occurs (this can be something as small as finishing your business on the toilet only to realise there is no toilet paper!), I think we are already pre-programmed to look for the next sign of something bad to confirm that a 'bad day' is coming. It gives us an 'out' for the rest of the day; but not only that, it is so easy to do so. People will empathize because everyone has had a 'bad' day. Now, I am in no way down-playing bad days, as they do exist and most with more than an acceptable reason. I just suppose that in the battle of 'good-day vs. bad-day', I think we could all fight harder for the former. And I will definitely do so in my own reflection of this month.

12 May 2011 Resolution

I have just decided, literally right now, to make a resolution on this day, the 12th of May. It is to publish more blogs. So come check it out. Daily. If not for the hopes of a post, but to catch me out when I don't post. Do it. My life will be better for it.

changing my initials.

So on tuesday (14th Dec) I had the inevitable Ph.D. viva (voce). For a Ph.D. student, this is the ultimate culmination of one's research (in my case, four years) and determines if their research is essentially 'worth it'. Not only does it assess your actual work, it examines your ability to do research in the future. So, it would have been perfectly normal to have been extremely nervous. Except, in this case, I wasn't. I had been dutifully prepared by members within my own department with a mock viva on the previous thursday. I had also been battling a gum infection (due to an invading wisdom tooth) and a flu so the first thing on my mind was actually getting back to full strength. Somehow, this sickness actually gave me (mental) strength and gave me the confidence to know that there was not a question they could ask that I wouldn't at least have an intelligible answer for.

So the day had come. I rented a car in advance so that I wouldn't be late. or even risk the chance of being late. I wanted to be sure. And the last thing I wanted was to walk and show up sweating buckets. That would have put me off immediately. I woke up extra early and made my way to the the Sports Tech Institute. I didn't risk eating breakfast in case of indigestion. And I had thought that it was only going to be a couple hours so it wouldn't be long until I ate anyway (oh and I also secretly thought there would be snacks as it was common to see cookies!). Well, nothing really turned out like I thought it would. There were no tricky philosophical questions. Instead, they were sound, probing questions that really made sure I understand what I did and why. The two hour mark at which I had hoped to finish was actually now the half-way point. The bathroom break, if you will. I can remember thinking at this time: "what have i done?.. what a massive error on my part to do a ph.d.!!!" But throughout the process, my answers were free-flowing and never forced. Perhaps, I actually was ready. Three and a half hours later and the interrogation was over. I had struggled to hold back a smile on my face when I knew the end was near... questions on chapter 10 were like music to my ears.

And then came the decision. There was no x-factor type suspense. Straight in: you've passed. Congratulations. Time to smile, I thought. There were minor corrections as can be expected from most ph.d's. The important thing was: additional data collection was not required. Just the overall presentation needed to be cleaned up, and this was something I was fine with since the original hand-in was a bit rushed. But that was that, and all of a sudden, I'm not longer a Mr.... I may just become a Dr!

Now, I secretly thought that champagne would rain down from the heavens and that I would be given a key to a secret underground society on campus that only other fellow doctors were a part of. That did not happen, and NO, it does not seem unreasonable to suggest. In the absence of these perks, I think the change in initials will suit me just fine.