An Enhanced Analysis of Enhanced Interrogations

Happy New Year!

It's been a while since my last post and I apologize for that. But to come back in style, I have decided to write a nice article on torture!

There's been a lot of talk lately about torture and human rights. Justly so, considering that a few days ago, the US Senate released a report on "Enhanced Interrogation Tactics". Yes, enhanced indeed. Before I get into my thoughts, let me quickly propose a change to an out-of-date term that is bound to come up a lot in this post - "terrorism". I think it should be coined as "Aggrandized Goal Achievement Strategy" (AGAS). How does that sound? Pretty good, right? Anyways, if you are yet to discover the magnificence of rectal feeding, rectal rehydration and waterboarding, I suggest you set some time aside this holiday season to do so - it's sure to be fun for the whole family! But that's not my job… No, I'm not here to shed light on specific torture methods - that's the US Senate's job. I'm simply here to discuss America's essential role on the global stage.

The United States has, since as long as my youthful existence can remember, been the most major player on the global stage. They have had a lot of control, in a lot of the world's decisions. They have went on countless "humanitarian missions", they have imposed regimes on sovereign states and they have acted the way neo-fascists with little opposition would.

Their methods for intel collection have long been known - just never verified - until now!

Regardless, let's discuss the fairness of the situations:

If you have the right to sing to your neighbor, then isn't it only just that your neighbor have the right to sing to you? If the US has a right to use legal loopholes like Guantanamo for their benefit and a right to play God in decisions about the treatment of other humans, why shouldn't other places? Why is it such a grave situation when an American ex-navy seal is beheaded by ISIS while on humanitarian work in Syria, but not when a group of many Syrians are forced to endure elephant sized tubes filled with mushy falafel and hummus, up their assholes, literally. (Generally, this is the part where I would apologize for my unladylike language. However, in this specific case, I feel like you have no one to blame for your nightmares but the US Government.) Not to defend the terrorists, who are terrorists in most part because they are brown, but those American soldiers and newly-reformed humanitarian workers are no saints.

But OK, let's not dwell on that, ask yourself this: why is the US government forgiven for all their infractions, when they rarely turn a blind eye to offenders? Is that fair?

Yes! Why of course it is! I mean, it's not like we're talking about some third world, little rectum of the world country, right? We're talking about America the brave, the glorious. The country which has the right to do as it pleases in the world. So of course they can do whatever they want! I mean, it's not like they were torturing anyone, you know? They were simply enhancing their interrogation techniques for the greater good. So what if they decide what is in the world's best interest? They are America! Right? What if they play the most major, most unethically deserved role on the global stage? They are America! Right?

No, let's come back down to planet earth for a second and ask ourselves this: How would the US react if they found out that the AGAS users were using enhanced interrogation on captured US soldiers? They would have a spasm. Obama would get out there and say something about how there will be no place to hide for the AGASists. Dick Cheney, who has said that he would approve the torture - I mean enhanced interrogation - in heartbeat because they prevented another mass casualty event against the US, would probably have a fit. Dick would spit on the Obama regime for not taking a tough enough stance and condemn the people who were  responsible. Did I just say "people"? Oh, those people would probably be dead, beheaded, murdered, gone and face down in a ditch with no teeth, a smashed-in skull, no fingernails, no record of existence, and no other identifying features whatsoever. But people are no biggie, especially to a faction as big as the US government. People are just people. Individuals, or inconspicuous dust flying around in the atmosphere.

But, imagine that these people were part of something bigger - government! I think that this government -if the US wasn't already caressing it with its perverse paws- would immediately be liquidated. Either physically ("BANG BANG YOU'RE DEAD!") or from the inside, via putting in place a puppet government.

It's happened before and it will happen again.

It's like when Iran started developing enriching uranium and the US freaked out. But that's a whole different story.

The US reacted to this situation the same way they reacted to the spying scandal that Snowden brought out. They brushed it off. I mean, the US doesn't even feel a need to justify it's actions anymore. It has become utterly immune to international law and it knows it. Lucky them.

My poor, crappy little country of descendance is being forced to put aside its values and rights to free speech and free thought in order to enter into European Union, which is a failure by the way, but America - they can spy on whoever it wants, it can invade any country it wants and not worry about repercussions. They never get forced into changing their ways. You know why? Because you cannot break the rules, if you make them, right?

Now I'm just ranting. Honestly, I've been shaking out of rage for the majority of the time I have been penning this post. In reality, I know that this post probably isn't going to make a lot of sense. The anger will probably take over, causing me to write one big, senseless rant. But I'm ok with that, I'm prepared for that, actually. So let's move aside from my self-pity and rambling, into some talk about the fabulous electoral options -in light of the recent scandals- for the American people.

Democrats or Republicans?

I used to think that the Democrats were better than the Republicans. I used to think that the Democrats had a little more humanity than the Republicans, but throughout the recent scandals, I've discovered that the Democrats are no better than the Republicans, they are just better at hiding the truth than the Republicans. The Republicans make it part of their whole stance to represent the hillbilly patriot of America. You know what I mean, right? The type of person who doesn't care about the people, only themselves. The kind of person who likes to hang the confederate flag on their trailer. The kind of person who deep fries their Thanksgiving turkey in 5 minutes in an enormous oil barrel. The kind who likes to shoot up a bunch of empty beer cans in camo and stand their ground when a black kid wanders past their house. The Republicans are loud and they are proud of their stance.

The Democrats are basically the same, minus the loud and proud thing. (Now you say "Oh no they're not!" And I say:) If they weren't, then wouldn't the gun laws in the States undergo some sort of reform? Wouldn't Obama have an answer less sleezy than "we are not tapping your phone and we will not be tapping your phone" when the German Chancellor asks him about whether or not he had been spying on her previously? Wouldn't something be done about the police brutality against the colored kids south of the border? Wouldn't enhanced interrogations be prohibited? Uh, yeah, they pretty much would, or at least, they'd be well on their way.

Now I know what you're thinking: the democrats had no clue that this (Enhanced Interrogations) was going on right under their noses. No, poor little, oblivious Democrats. Innocent and naive; believing that the world is fundamentally good. Poor little minority house leader Nancy Pelosi. She had no idea that these types of obvious human rights trampling-s were going on under her nose. Oops! My bad! What I meant to say was that she had condoned the actions! Not just for a little bit of time, but for 14 years worth of it! And according to Jose Rodriguez, a not-so-secret agent man from the lovely CIA, she never objected to it. Not once. Pathetic.

So are the Democrats so much better? Nah, they're just better at concealing certain things. Is that good? Morally, no. Business-wise, yes!

So do the American people have a choice when they go to the polls? Not really; sucks for them.
Regardless, should we get back to the major theme that I promised I would talk about at the start of this post? Of course! America's essential role on the global stage:

The US's role in the world is to act as a watchdog of sorts, but unlike your regular watchdog, who barks when something seems out of place, the US bites. They invade. They attack. How, is questionable, but the biting part isn't. This persistent and unequivocal biting has created a world in which such a large animosity exists against the US that they themselves must live in fear. Had the US not gone on frequent moral crusades, they would not have to fear being attacked, and hence, not have to use enhanced interrogations.

They propagate, to their very own people, that they have to defend their blessed land against the evils around it. That they have to protect the land from a insurgent force. And that they are justified in using any means possible. What they fail to explain to their people is why other countries are not constantly living "under threat of a mass casualty" (that's how Dick put it, not me). Actually, maybe not! Maybe they do explain to their people why they are the forsaken ones. Because they are the only good ones.

In a sea of evil, America glimmers, glorious as ever.

They are the only ones smart enough to take preemptive actions, they are the proactive ones. And their people blindly believe them. They don't question why the US is going into yet another humanitarian mission. They just see it as the right thing to do. They don't ask why toppling a sovereign state's government is unfair, they just chant "AMERICA!" at the top of their lungs. They have been conditioned to love their country's actions, so much so that basic humane values do not matter. (Or at least, they have the wrong values instilled upon them). So much so that the most fundamental value of any civilized society "Do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you", is completely ignored.

At least, that's how my rabid mind sees it. (A very brief explanation, indeed.)

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. I have met some Americans with progressive minds. Americans who did not lovingly embrace the rape committed by their government on other countries. Good people, with good values. It's just that, somehow, unfortunately, they seem to be chronically outnumbered by their hillbilly counterparts. Actually, I think that American people, as individuals, are a riot. They're a lot of fun to be around and they're funny (keep in mind that I am speaking from my incredibly vast 16 years of knowledge). They are a lot less politically correct than their neighbours up north - a quality in my eyes. They are a lot less bounded by societal rules in some aspects, hence not fake-smiling for prolonged periods, it's just that government is just not one of them. In fact, one of the few people, whose opinions and thoughts my egocentric self ever put merit on and admired, was American. He's only a year older than me, but he's very smart.
(I met him in elementary and he knew a whole lot more than anyone else about anything else. And he was not a cynic, though everyone did consider him to be, he was a just a misfit. People didn't like his whole approach because, simply put, he didn't like to smile about everything, as they did. Regardless, he was very nice to me, perhaps nicer than I deserved, but I learned a lot from him. It's too bad that I don't get to talk to him much anymore, it was one of the downsides of switching schools.)

So, what have I tried to convey today? That the real AGASists may not be the ones who are brown and wear ghutras, they may just be the ones on humanitarian missions. If random "suspected" brown people can be captured and subjected to enhanced interrogations, what is so different about an ISIL member capturing an American? Both parties simply want to do that which they see as best for their respective country. Each party is messing with the other.

Did the US blow up countless schools full of children in the middle east while fighting the "war on terror"? And did they suffer no consequences whatsoever for their actions?

Yes, yes they did. But keep in mind that they are untouchable.

Moreover, when this scandal about torture came to light, isn't it true that it only received about a few days of news coverage before it stopped getting air time, whereas the beheading of an American  by ISIL received nearly a month?

Yes, yes it is. But keep in mind that white, American lives are always worth more than the lives of anyone else.

ISIS

Prime Minister Stephen Harper recently announced, during a rare address to parliament, that Canada would be going the fight against ISIS. He informed the MPs that, though there will be no ground troop deployed, air strikes will commence and continue for up to six months, at which point the situation will be reviewed and efforts will possibly be extended. According to Harper, the airstrikes are planned for Iraq, but could potentially be expanded to Syria. 

Additionally, Harper explained that Canada's participation will be limited to only countries where there is a supporting and legitimate government (thus excluding Syria). Parallely, the government will extend it's original 30 day advisory mission, which is supposed to contribute 69 special operations officers, in addition to the 280 aircrew personnel. Despite admitting that eliminating the Islamic State is likely impossible, he said that he does believe Canada's efforts will "significantly reduce" the threat. 

Parliament will vote on -and likely pass- the proposition on Monday, due to the Conservative majority. Both Thomas Mulcair and Justin Trudeau, leaders of the NDP and Liberal parties respectively, said that, as oppose to airstrikes, other means could be explored. Mulcair said “The tragedy in Iraq and Syria will not end with another Western-led invasion in that region." Similarly, Trudeau said that Canada can make a much more prominent impact on the war on ISIS by using some unspecified "non-combat roles", rather than "a few aging warplanes".

The US's airstrike campaign against ISIS has seemingly come to no avail. Not only has it cost them approximately 1 billion dollars to date, but it has cost them the literal heads of 3 citizens (The US refused to pay a 100 million ransom for each kidnapped journalist, and the journalists were hence beheaded). Other countries have joined the airstrikes and threatened to revoke the passports of citizens that go to aid ISIS, but it doesn't seem to be having a potent effect either. 

The only troops on the ground at the moment are Kurdish (An Islamic minority being targeted by ISIS) and Iraqi militia and soldiers. "Not good enough" according to a flurry of critics, who believe that the only remedy to the ISIS plague is ground combat. It is undeniable that ISIS must be stopped, but to what lengths should Canadians and the rest of the world go to? How much tax-payer money should be expended on this? Is there more that Canada can do? And most importantly, is this fight, especially from Canada's perspective, in vain?

The Personal Bubble

"Don't invade my private space!"

"This is my personal bubble!"

"Could you just not be so close to me?"

These are all phrases which I have heard all too often.

When I was younger, and attending elementary school, I was faced with the concept of "the personal bubble". It was a very challenging concept for my extroverted mind to grasp. Nonetheless, I tried; naturally, I failed. No, I wasn't very good at "keeping to myself". When I would talk to my friends, I would touch them. It was nothing inappropriate; just the occasional tap on the hand, the hug and the pulling of the jaw to adjust the line of sight. At least, I thought it was nothing inappropriate. 

According to a countless array of Super Vision Aids, teachers, counsellors and friends, however, I was extremely aggressive and impolite. In fact, I was even once told, by a teacher, that my touching could be viewed as a form of harassment. Apparently, tapping your friend's hand to get their attention, holding their hand while walking to some place you're really excited about and adjusting their line of sight via jaw-pulling, could all be potentially traumatic and harassing experiences to a person, even if that person was your friend. It was a good thing to learn. It gave me a better perspective of what constitutes a friend and of the society I live in. It was tough lesson to learn at a young age, and it was, in a way, very shocking. Needless to say, it was a lesson which I was bound to learn the hard way. In hindsight, I am actually quite happy to have learned the lesson at a young age, for it put a lot of  society's mannerisms into perspective for me. Additionally, that lesson became the foundation for many soft skills that I would learn in the years to come.

Obviously, I still touch people; not as much as before, but still. Actually, I am able to judge which friends of mine would greatly mind me invading their personal space and which ones wouldn't. Last year, I made an error in judgement. I was talking to a petit Asian girl in my fantastic planning class, and when she started to stare out the window, I poked her leg as to have her turn her attention back to me. My poke succeeded; she focused on me again, but quickly drifted off again. This time, I didn't want to poke her, rather I came to terms with the fact that she didn't want to listen to me. Regardlessly, I kept talking because I was so enthralled in my own story that I simply had to say it, and didn't care if anyone bothered to listen. During my riveting monologue, I placed my hand gently on top of hers in order to imitate and add some depth and texture to what I was saying. To this touch, she swiped her hand away from under mine and gave me a look of fury. 

"Can you stop touching me?! No seriously, it's like every story you tell you have to rape me!"

Rape her? I didn't know that tapping her hand constituted rape, but I guess it did to her. 

Luckily for me, my planning teacher heard this, and turned her head to give me the most degrading and confused look possible. I immediately addressed her confusion with the line: "I only touched her hand!"

"Look Nat, I know, it's just a difference in culture. You have to understand that this isn't Europe, people don't like to be touched."
Okay, I guess I understood. People are, for whatever reason, petrified of being touched. I myself, can never truly relate to those people, but then again, I'm European, right? We barbaric Europeans, we feel the need to express our emotions fully and to the highest possible degree. To achieve this, we use hand gestures and touching. They convey the story a little better; they dramatize the story a little more.
Allow me to move from this small anecdote into the reason I am actually writing this post.
Everyday, on my daily commute, I see people who know each other, avoid each other on the bus. They politely nod and say "hi" as the make their way to the back of the bus. They don't stop to speak to the person they know; sometimes, they don't even sit down next to the person (provided that there is seat available). They walk on by without giving so much as a second thought to speaking with each other. It's repudiating. If it weren't for the pathetically induced polite "hello", one would think that the two didn't know one another.
Many of you reading this are probably taking into account how well the two folks know each other. You probably are thinking "well, you can't talk to someone if you don't know them well enough to know what to say - you could offend them." That's true enough, but are there really things that you think/say that could offend them so much? I would hope not.
It's really annoying and sad when I see it. I say a little prayer to myself that I never become associated with such individuals. Even if a person had only met me for a few minutes at a mutual lecture, I'd still hope that they'd be willing and decent enough to strike up a conversation. I'd rather have them sit beside me and talk about anything, than have them ignore me while they walk to the opposite side of the bus. Wouldn't you? See, I would feel like a bad person if someone didn't want to sit near me. I would question what I did wrong in order to have that person feel that way about me.
But, what would make me feel the worst? If that person sat down beside me and then ignored me by putting their earbuds in or opening up the newspaper.
I could barely believe my own eyes when I saw it! A man donned a proper nod to some woman he knew and -I believe it was out of decency- sat down in the empty seat next to her. They exchanged greetings that lasted about 30 seconds. A "hi" and "how are you" per person. Then the they got bored with each other, or they came to a lack of words, or, most likely, things just got awkward. The man pulled out his tablet and started repairing some excel spreadsheet, and the woman, keeping her plastic smile in full throttle, stared out the window.
It looked like something out of a SciFi movie, where aliens had programmed people to say "hello", yet be emotionless. She reminded me of a Stepford wife, and he, he just looked pathetic. Overall, it was a very sad and depressing scene to witness. It was almost as if the end of human interaction was pending.
Worst of all, when the man checked his Facebook account, I saw that he had 568 friends. 568 friends in cyberspace, yet he couldn't even properly speak to one for twenty minutes.
Just like people feel uncomfortable with me touching them when I tell a story, I'm sure they feel uncomfortable to speak to each other if they aren't very well acquainted. What's the point of a life when you have no one you can talk to? What's the point of life when you are too frightened to speak to your fellow man? Can living truly be called living if it is wretchedly stiff?
I wouldn't write about this if it was a "one-off", but unfortunately, it's not. It's an event I see at least once a day on my commute, and it's an event which sours my entire day and causes me to lose hope in this interactionless society known as "humanity".

Unwise

Three years ago, when I was in grade 8, I witnessed a boy win the student election at my school by giving a speech about turtles. Like all the other candidates, he got up on stage and recited a carefully written speech about turtles entering the salt water of the beach from their sandy birthplace. He then made the correlation, the connection, the metaphor that all of us kids are turtles entering the ocean that is high school. As he spoke, he trembled and shook the way a leaf does when hit by a raindrop. He stammered and stuttered the way a toddler does when lying to his mother about stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Sweat dripped from his forehead the way juice drips from a rotisserie chicken. His speaking skills were inadequate to say the least, and he was petrified, yet he went on to win the grade 8 presidential election. His win was purely based on his creatively themed speech. His charisma, his thoughts, his future actions were not addressed in the slightest in his speech. Not one of my peers cared about what that boy was going to do to bring change to our school, nobody cared about how he would improve our grade's position in school decision making and nobody cared about what kind of person, and more importantly leader, that boy would make. The only thing that that group of 13-year-olds cared about was the hilarity of their peer's speech. 

I'll give credit where credit is due however. That boy earned his win because he knew how to appeal to a group of his peers. He was clever. He knew that any young adults would enjoy his funny speech. He knew that any adolescent child would rather listen to a guy talk about cute turtles and make them laugh, rather than listen to a boring speech of someone's vision for a better future - and I commend him for that.
This little anecdote is what brings me to my point: the legal voting age.
I have read countless articles written by children of my own age boasting the benefits of allowing those under 18 to vote. I have even read articles by adults insisting that children are capable of making a serious choice in an election. Some of my peers have gone so far as to say that they feel that all children, as of age 16, should and would be excited to vote and inform themselves about politics. I, however, disagree, and with each pro-lowering-the-voting-age paper I read, I feel a sense of immaturity, rebellion and even disgust.
I am repulsed by the Napoleonic attitude of my generation and their absolute certainty in their decisions.
Feelings aside, I would like to bring forward a series of arguments as to why children of my own age should not be able to participate in one of society's most important and defining functions - elections.
From the story I described above, one can conclude that children have an issue separating entertainment from reality; a problem which can encourage a party to alter the focuses of their campaign.
Well, okay, maybe not change everything, but definitely some things. It is undeniable; parties would have to endeavour to gain the votes of the young. Surely, they would attempt to create a campaign based majorly in social media, as that is what we youth spend most of our free time on. Surely, they would attempt to make a profound and thought-provoking campaign, but the question remains: what would they do after their mature campaign failed? Would they allow the youth's votes to go to waste? Would they change their campaign to appeal to the masses of the youth, hence risking the revocation of older peoples' votes? Or, would all those children's votes become the votes of their parents?
Regardless of your opinion, I'd like to provide another example:
During a debate with one of my peers on the subject, I was faced with a question: "You and I are perfectly capable of making an informed vote, so is it not arrogant and wrong of you to assume that the rest of the kids here can't?" An excellent question, which I believe I answered with an equally excellent response. I figured that words could simply not express and disprove my peer's theory as well as an example could. Considering the fact that we were in school on our lunch break, it was very easy for me to pull aside a child to use as my example. A sandy-haired, pale and muscle-less boy was in the middle of his enormous sub sandwich when I pulled him aside and asked "If you could vote in the next election, which party would you vote for?" After a series of "umms", "whats" and "uhhs", his response was exactly what could've been expected from the average adolescent boy. "The Awesome Party". I responded by inquiring about what was important to him. "Video games" was the ideal response to cement my point to my peer.
The sad truth is that that boy represents the masses of my generation. Despite the fact that I have met a multitude of clever, witty, smart and well-informed children my own age, I met far more who are dumb. So, to those that argue that not allowing youth to vote deprives them of expanding their horizons, getting involved in their community and expressing themselves, I disagree. I think that disallowing youth to vote actually prevents all the stupidity that could come out of my age-range.
And let me just pre-emptively address an issue which is sure to arise: Allowing 16 year olds to vote, is not going to encourage them to get involved in politics. We see this through history in countless like-examples.
Lastly, my opinion changes on a whim. I have a different view on a different subject on a near daily basis. Take my future, for example. I am never sure what I want to do after high school. I feel like I have a general idea, but nothing concrete. So should someone like me truly be able to vote - only to make a decision I could regret the next day?
So, why the long post about why kids shouldn't be allowed to vote? Because of the boy who won the student election? No. Was it a big deal? No, being the grade representative of the youngest high school grade does not change the course of humanity, nor does it have a tremendous impact on a student's life. The truth is that teachers and administrators continue to make the majority of the important decisions. Student council is more a way of providing false hope and assurance to children that they indeed are equal to the rest of society. But what that speech was, was a testament to the immaturity and the incapability of youths to make serious decisions.

Liz

The best relationship I have and have ever been in on a friendly level is one with a girl called Liz. She is incredible. Gentle and kind, hilarious and accepting. She is passionate and willing to go out on a limb for me. I adore her and I think I know why I love her so much.
Our relationship started oddly. She escorted me to the airport on the day of my vacation to Hawaii. Here's the catch: she had never spoken to me before. I fell in love with her spontaneity then and sent her a postcard from my vacation.
One day, when I had come to school with a relatively stuffed school bag, some children came to ask me what I had in it. I responded that I had a flight scheduled for Hawaii that evening, which meant that I had to bring my luggage to school and go straight to the airport afterwards. With this in mind, about seven of my peers offered to actually take me to the airport, she was one of them. Obviously, I accepted their kind offer.

When the final bell of the day rang, a few of those children and I met at the front of the school and waited for the rest of the kids. While we were waiting, a girl asked us where we were all congregating to go. One of the boys with me answered her. Her response stunned me a little bit, considering the fact that I didn't know her. She asked if she could join us. To the dismay and implicating dirty looks of my original group, I said yes. I thought "the more the merrier", right? She tagged along, pushing her bike with her to the Canada Line station. Along the way, I spoke to the people I knew, mainly avoiding her for the thought that she was strange, and so that I could retain my precious image with my group. A few of the kids I knew told me that that girl was very weird and that that was the opinion of the majority of the student body. I didn't doubt him. Not many people would invest the time or effort to take a stranger to the airport.

At the Canada Line station, part of the group decided to stay at the mall after eyeing a "ridiculously" good sale. One kid got a call from his parents ordering him back home. Another said he lived right around there and was going to go home to study for a test the next day. And then there were five. Two of them got on the Canada Line, but in the opposite direction. Now it was myself, my friend and the strange girl. My friend, for the sake of not being the only one left, made up some excuse as to why he had to leave, and left me with this bizarre child.
Naturally, I thought that she would excuse herself as well. Why would she want to go all the way to the airport with me?

To my surprise, she said she would take me all the way to my departure terminal because she knew that I would get lost. 

"You don't know me, how do you know if I have a good sense of direction, or if I'm gonna get lost?"

"I've heard stories about you - I know you get lost often. And I know that if you were to do this trip by yourself, you might not even make it on the right plane."

"Okay, I didn't realize people tell stories about me, so who are you."

"I'm Liz!" She said in the bubbliest, most enthusiastic voice I've ever heard.

And she went on to tell me about herself, and we got along quite well, despite being from totally different social standings in the school. She seemed to know a lot about me. Every time I would ask her how she knew all she did, she would reassure me that everyone else knew it too. She would go on to say that I would probably notice this if I wasn't so caught up in my own world. It was one of those situations where everyone knows your name, but you don't know anyones.

Anyways, we got to the airport, and Liz informed me that my flight would be at the sign that said "US Departures". 

"You must fly a lot" I said.

"No, I've actually never been on a plane in my life, but I have common sense, unlike you!" She stated.
I didn't want to argue with her over the common sense statement because I figured that everyone else thought so too. 

So we walked on over to US departures and, surely enough, there was my father. I introduced him to Liz and he told me to ask for her address so that I could at least send her a postcard. She had taken me to the airport after all.
As I said, I sent her that postcard, misspelling her name and some words in the process.

When I got back to school, I was greeted by a teacher who asked me where I had been for so long, and another teacher who asked me if my best male friend had locked me up in his basement for the duration of my trip. (I know, an inappropriate question from a teacher, even as a joke!)
After telling all my popular friends about the trip, asking my male friend why our teacher would feel the need to make said remarks, and asking all my teachers about what I had missed in the academic region of school, I found Liz (or, she found me.) She said hi, and it was as if she had opened herself up to me completely, telling me tons of stories about her family and life. Sadly, I didn't get to spend much time with her.
Even though we attended the same school, we had different cliques. Our friends were different, very different. Also, I didn't have many classes with her (just PE). Time, as well, was not on my side. There were only a few weeks of school left when I came back from the vacation. Regardless, she had claimed a spot in my heart.

I was quite pleased that school had drawn to a close because it meant that I had finally managed to rid myself of the clique, which I had inserted myself into. Considering that I wasn't coming back to the school next year, the last day of school was a freebie for me. I declined an invitation from my group in favor of having coffee with someone unaccepted by my circle. When that someone said some things that made me feel awkward, I excused myself from the coffee and went back to school. Going to my group was not an option because I really couldn't stomach having to look at them again, so I went back to the nearly deserted school. There was Liz, carrying a camera (to this day I have no idea what the camera was for) she approached me and said hi. I wasn't in the mood for chatting, or hanging out with her, so I told her that I had to go home.

"Where do you live?" she inquired.

"Downtown, far away. " I responded.

"Can I come?" I was dumbfounded and said yes.
She happened to have bus fare and asked me which bus I took. We walked to the stop and waited for the bus. Eventually, it came. We got on and talked. She turned my mood around. I went from sad and angry to happy and talkative. I told her about my extensive schooling, my extracurricular activities and about where I live. She talked about so many things that it would take too long for me to list them. When we got to my stop, we got off. I told her that I now had to transfer to another bus to make it all the way home.
"Maybe we should get something to eat." Stated Liz.
"Okay, where? I don't have much cash."
She looked around, saw a 7/11 and started heading in. I followed. We bought some high-quality corn dogs and chocolate bars, along with a disgustingly mixed Slurpee. It was a fabulous lunch.
Along the way, I pushed her to take a bunch of photos of anything and everything. I didn't want her camera to go to waste.
A few hours and a memory card full of photos later, we parted ways. I said that I should probably get going and she said that she probably should too. She used my phone to call her parents and tell them that she was alright and on her way home. I was astonished at how laid-back her parents were. They didn't seem to care that she hadn't told them about where she was. Anyways, she headed on over to the bus stop and I started walking home. It had been a really nice day. I had had great company and great climate.
That summer break wasn't plagued with baseball practices for Liz, and I, as usual, was completely free. We saw each other often. We went to the beach, to the pool and for countless picnics. I visited her at her place and she came to mine for dinners. It was a really nice break, during which, we made some truly unforgettable memories. The most prominent one? Second Beach Pool.
It was only the third or fourth time that Liz and I had gone out, but she was so open and honest with me that it felt like the thousandth for her. I was still hesitant. I didn't exactly want to pour my heart out to this bizarre girl. Anyway, that day at second beach pool made me love Liz for her kindness and question her sanity at the same time.
After that, we went out more. Quickly, we had visited just about every part of Vancouver together. Despite our differences in opinion about where to meet, we always managed to compromise. (She always succumbs to my wish of going to Downtown). We have done a lot, from pools to plateaus, we have seen just about everything there is to be seen.
I hope that we manage to stay friends for a long time and here's to 2.5 fabulous years of friendship. To the understanding and the memories we have shared. A good omen showed itself while I was writing this post - 10 000 views on this blog. Happy achievement, eh? Anyway, I can't wait to see Liz this Labour Day at Grouse Mountain to celebrate. Her birthday is always a great way to end summer break; to "go out with a bang". (I hope my cake turns out better this year than last.) I'll conclude my 50th post now, as I am at a loss for words and this conclusion is becoming long and lethargic. To end my substitute for a birthday card, I'll simply say: Happy birthday, Liz! Thanks for being a fabulous friend! I love you. 

Mom and Dad

As my break continues progressing, my life does not. I have been at a stagnant capacity both mentally and physically. It would be great if that stagnant pace was at an all-time high as oppose to a low, but hey, I guess consistency only comes in bad ways. That is a major part of the reason I haven't been writing as much as I would like. Oh well, bad things happen. 

It could be that melancholia and free time for pondering the complexities in life, which has inspired me to write this post. 

The better half of my break has been spent watching "Videoflow", a daily show on MuchMusic. It plays the video of popular top 40 videos. It's mind boggling for me to realize that I have watched this show everyday for about 3 hours, considering that I don't care for the music, nor the pornographic videos. I would understand watching it for a day, but everyday - the same videos are played everyday. No variation, no education, nothing. I think that if T.V. shows were like food, and thus included nutritional value facts, the nutritional value of Videoflow would be 0. And that is the show that has consumed my life, but that is the sad reality. In fact, it is very likely that my I.Q. has dropped a good 10 points from watching the series. My sister, who is the one who is subjecting me to the to torture, enjoys it and would never stop watching it, but I think that that comes with age, and hope that she will grow out of her stage of resentful music. 

I've grown fed-up with Videoflow, and today, forced my sister to turn it off, which she took as well as could have been expected. I feel that I need to eradicate Videoflow from both of our lives, as it serves as a means for brainwashing. With about 20 days left in my break, I hope that I can avoid the sight of Videoflow. 

There is one good thing which has arisen from Videoflow. A song which discuses a topic which I have never written about, but which I have discussed a great deal with my friends. 

My swim club is located in a part of Vancouver with a large Balkan population, thus the ethnic makeup of my swim club is largely Balkan, myself included. This, of course, is contrary to my school, which is nearly completely Asian. As you can imagine, the mindsets, mannerisms, values and beliefs of Asian children and Balkan children are naturally very different.
I have had the pleasure of interacting with children from all sorts of different cultural backgrounds here in Vancouver. I have been inspired by them countless times, not only to write, but to think as well. As much as I love talking, I love listening to other peoples' thoughts, too. The one topic, which despite having been discussed a million times by my friends and I, has never been written about is that of leaving home.
It's a touchy subject for some, and the contrasting views I've heard on the topic are incredible. Nowadays, it is very common for children to leave home after graduating from secondary school. Sometimes, the move is out of necessity - their post-secondary education facility is in a different part of the world, a career opportunity awaits them in a far-away land etc.. Sometimes however, the move is out of vain. Sometimes, children want to leave home for "independence", or because their old-man is a "straggy delinquent". Leaving home is a fairly big decision. In some cases, it can be viewed as the quintessential step for becoming an adult; for becoming independent. It can even shape your life. It's a big decision, especially if your on your own financially. But I'll stop rambling about the importance of making that decision.
Before I continue, why don't you take the time to venture a guess about which group of my friends -the Balkan or the Asian- are insistent on staying at home. Have you met any people from either cultural group to have a better understanding of their opinion? Have you an opinion on leaving home yourself? If you guessed the Balkan, then you are correct! You finally managed to guess something right, eh?
See, my Balkan friends pray to not leave home.
In fact, as I was waiting for the bus one day to go home from my swim practice, I was joined by a Bulgarian friend of mine. I wasn't the first time I had taken the bus with her. She would come with me occasionally when her mother couldn't pick her up. Every time her mom did pick her up however, she would offer me a ride, which I usually declined. She lives in Yaletown: the Balkan district of Vancouver, if you will. She goes to the local high school, which has an ethnic make-up of mainly children of Eastern European descent. Her opinions, as you can imagine, greatly resemble those of her parents, whose opinions greatly resemble those of people from the Balkan region. Her high school is a little taste of our region in Vancouver. But that's beside the point.
On that day of waiting for the bus, we talked about stuff that we usually do. She told me about some of the people in her high school and how they were doing (I had attended elementary with most of those kids, but I ended up being deemed gifted and attending a school on the other side of the city for gifted children, while they stayed close to home.) Regardless, I like to keep in touch and indulge in a little bit of girly gossip - who's dating who, who's behaving erratically, and other stuff of that nature. On that day, she confided in me that her best friend, who happens to be beautiful, was allowing boys to LG hunt on her. My Bulgarian friend told me how she was trying to get her friend to stop returning the flirts, but was unable and asked for my advice. I told her to tell her friend what the coach in the movie Mean Girls had told the class - "Don't have sex because you will get pregnant and die!" She laughed and we kept talking. Somehow, the conversation led to the Bulgarian girl's sister, who had just graduated from high school. I asked what post-secondary institution her sister was going to attend. The girl looked at me with a near crazy look in her eyes and in a low, almost whispering voice, said "she's going to UBC" (the local university). She went on to say that I had spent too much time in my over-acheiveing school, so that I had become accustomed to hearing exclusively Harvard. "I can't believe you even asked that! Of course she's staying at home with us, why would she ever leave? I would never leave home, I just want to live with my mom and my dad for the rest of my life and get married and then live next door! Don't you, or have you become totally 'Asian-ified'?"
It's hard to describe the way someone from that part of the world speaks, but it's very distinct. I've noticed it in myself and in my parents and in my Eastern European friends. Other, exclusively Anglo-Saxon, people have pointed out that the way I speak is odd and "overly passionate". See, had I attended my local school, I would've never even toyed with the notion that I speak in a funky way. I also debate, and the only critique I ever get is that I am too passionate during my speeches. It's funny, I never knew you could be overly passionate in a debate, but I guess I was wrong. Okay, I can empathize with the Anglo folk. I speak in a way that is a little "over-the-top". I look like I am about to murder the opposing team in order to get the judges to agree with my proposition. To someone who has grown up in a sterile society, where fieriness is seen as a sign of weakness, I can imagine that someone's desperation and pleading of a case in my manner can seem intimidating. Personally, I think that it's an air about the speaker, which distinguishes them more than the words. This air is what attracts me to speaking to fellow Balkaners. It's just that "it" factor, which makes me feel at ease and understood and happy to talk.
I've rambled again. Let me get back to the point.
Remember how I talked about Videoflow at the start of this post? Well, remember how I mentioned that one good thing that came of it? A song called Mother and Father by a band from New Zealand called Broods. In the song, the woman says "And ever since I left my mother / It's much harder to know / How to live my own life here / How to make my own home". The lyrics got me thinking. Thinking about the things all my Balkan friends had said, especially the Bulgarian one.
Due to the fact that I hadn't attended a school with people of my own region in a while, my feelings about staying with my parents during adulthood hadn't been as strong. I hadn't really thought about it. I knew it was looming, but accepted it as a necessary evil of growing up.
After listening to the song a few times, reading the lyrics and so forth, I came to the realization that I never want to leave home. It may have been the fact that the song instilled a fear of leaving home in me, or that it just brought me back to my roots - I'm not certain.
Broods sings "I just don't want to wake up lonely / I don't want to just be fine", and neither do I. Life just seems so uncertain without my mom and dad by my side. I just don't know what I would do. I think that I'd feel lost, maybe even pointless. Life alone just seems too scary, too independent.  

Make It Stop

Sounds are wonderful things. They can inspire and ignite emotion through music, speeches, sighs, even breaths. These little vibrations, which enthral your eardrum into pounding signals like a jungle drum to your brain, can move you, but of course, there are two opposite directions in which you can move. Music, for example, can make one person elated and cause depression in the other. Drake's song "Started From the Bottom" is a perfect example of the varying effect any set of sounds can have on different people. I remember a time at school when, in an effort to seem cool, one stupid child blasted the song on his backpack speakers. He walked the halls of the school from one side to another, with nothing -and I mean nothing, the boy didn't even have a shirt on- but the aggressive thumping sounds of "Started From the Bottom". 

Naturally, it was hard for me to focus on the music. Such a sight was not a regular occurrence, even in my school of teen pregnancies and drugs. (Speaking of drugs, I presume the child was on drugs.) Anyway, as the boy walked past people, I observed their reactions. Truly, very few of my peers were as genuinely awed as I was at the sight of a boy in nothing but underwear and socks pacing through the halls with a backpack. I feel that it is safe for me to separate the student body into two groups: Drake fans" and "Not Drake Fans". The titles speak for themselves, but I will elaborate a little more. The "Drake Fans", well they grooved and moved their crotches and butts in a sexually provoking manner. They would come close together and rub genitalia together, mind you, they had clothes. The "Not Drake Fans" would simply stay back and throw boos at the shirtless jukebox. They didn't so much as give a second thought as to why a boy was marching through the school half-naked, rather they criticized his choice in music and encouraged him to try certain other genres. 

Obviously, sound can evoke a certain feeling in an individual. Generally, noise evokes bad feelings in people and music evokes pretty feelings in people. See, those students that didn't like the music from my example above, didn't like it because they didn't consider it to be music; rather noise. 

I was once the subject of a survey for my friend's project, where she would play sounds and ask the test group to rate how terrible the sounds were. There was beeping, barking and banging. I remember sitting there and wishing that the minutes would pass by faster so that I could get back to class. 

This is all pointless writing however, I want to get to the point. 

Last night, I went to sleep late because I was watching some interesting TV. The night prior I had went to bed at 2:30 in the morning and woken up at 8. When I woke up at 8, I was obviously tired, but the day started with a nice breakfast so I was happy. I promised myself that I would go to sleep early, but the TV didn't let me. This morning, I had no need to wake up early. I knew this when I went to sleep last night. I thought that I would sleep the day away and wake up in a state of mental clarity. I was wrong and my hopes were wrong. 

I was woken up this morning by a shrill-shrieking, no-good, obnoxious-barking dog and the construction crew, which sounds more like a destruction crew. Every morning, since the start of my break, this construction crew has impeded my sleep with their crashing and beeping and dropping. Every morning. But I'll get to the constructers later. Let's discuss the bitch.

Some poor, lonely soul, who is incapable of being dated has attempted to fill her life. How? By purchasing a mutt. This pathetic woman has come to accept the sad reality that, due to her appearance, she will never find a mate. Moreover, she has come to accept the reality which is her repudiating mirror reflection. But, due to her personalty, her ego, she cannot accept the fact that no one wants her. She thinks, no, she knows, that she is too incredible to not be wanted. She knows that she is the most awe-inspiring creature to have ever set foot on the planet. She believes that she is God's miracle. Too bad that no one apart from her mother feels the same way. 

The level of arrogance and obnoxiousness possessed by this woman is off the charts. She feels that she has the right to interrupt the slumber of the entire neighbourhood. Perhaps, she feels the centre of attention when her replacement-for-a-boyfriend, flea-bag begins to bark as if the apocalypse is arriving. Yes, that is what was occurring. That dog began barking and howling like there was no tomorrow.
I'll be frank, I have never owned a canine, in fact, I haven't even managed so much as a goldfish, so my critique of this woman could be wrong. The part about her ego, I believe it stands however. I believe that single persons, especially women, own pets in place of something any normal, reproductively functioning human female would want - children. Call me old-fashioned, but you know it's true.
My major problem, and the reason I have decided to massacre Jane Doe's behavior is because of her dog, right? Wrong. I am disgusted by Jane Doe for the simple fact that she, at that moment, felt no desire whatsoever to force her child into silence. I would actually venture to say that had that drooling, disgusting dog been a human child, the woman would have disciplined in a far harsher manner. It's quite true actually.
Take a look at the news for example. When a human is murdered in, let's say, a gang shootout, it is mentioned along with some statistic about murder rates. When however, an animal, like a cat for example is killed by a person, an international tribunal level  investigation is lauched. The person who is eventually found guilty of the kitty murder is sentenced harshly and spat upon by society. I don't know too much about cats, but I know that, if not neutered, they can produce tremendous amounts of offspring. What is a person to do with those offspring? Killing them is actually one of the more humane options. That way, they won't end up suffering through life as strays etc.. A human being should not be antagonized for the quick murder of an animal out of necessity. People should be criticized when they release their anger on animals and abuse them in horrific ways.
My point however, isn't the inequalty between humans and pets, it is Jane Doe's bitchiness. She let that dog bark into eternity. I was awoken, I was disturbed, and I was angered. I don't care much for alarm clocks, especially ones that bark and initiate themselves during my summer break. The world doesn't revolve around Jane Doe or her mutt. She needs to know that, as does her bitch. I think that her actions this morning qualified as "disturbing the peace". That is my diplomatic statement. Less diplomatically, I'd like to inform Jane Doe that if she were in any number of foreign countries, her arrogance and her makeshift community alarm clock would be quickly executed so that the human folk could rest.  Am I mean? I don't think so. I simply follow Mother Nature's system. I am a human, therefore I am superior to an animal. Now, I am going to tell you something shocking: I am not a vegetarian!
Now to get into the second part of my fabulous daily alarm - the construction crew. These are the men who so charmingly evoke crashes and bangs, which echo throughout the famously beautiful and peaceful Vancouver neighborhood of Coal Harbour. They are the producers of the sounds of metal clashing with metal, cranes smashing against buildings and notoriously, the incisive dinging of safety signals.
These construction workers have an ugly habit. Instead of working on a typical schedule of "nine-to-five", they prefer to work on a schedule more similar to that of a rooster. Work begins at the crack of dawn and ends around lunch. It's terrible. Call me crazy, but I like to sleep in. Isn't that normal? Shouldn't construction men also enjoy a schedule which allows them to rise after the sun? It doesn't make a difference to the building's construction schedule if they work early or late, right?
Another issue which taunts me is the level of noise that is produced from the building in question. Despite it being at a distance from my building, I can hear it as if it were being built in my living room. Is that noise really necessary? I don't think so. See, I think that those destruction workers enjoy, or at least, don't mind the sound. They have those massive noise-cancelling headphones on their heads, so they can't hear anything. Maybe it even makes them feel good to smash things around; empowering to say the least. A fetish, maybe a perversion, which makes you the king of the world. Again, I may be wrong. Maybe that is an unfortunate byproduct of building. Maybe that noise is the unfortunate byproduct of living in one of the most overly-priced, most in-demand neighbourhoods in the world. But maybe not.
Coal Harbour, the envied neighbourhood, the neighborhood everyone in Vancouver dreams of living in, has been polluted by the figurative screams of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Coal Harbour used to have nearly everything. The marina, the beach, the Seawall, Stanley Park, tourist attractions, cafés and everything in between. It was picturesque. Now it really has everything; dying whimpers of dogs and construction included. It is famous for it's peaceful atmosphere and it's friendly people. But it is expensive (with good reason). It's one of those communities where Utopia seems a little closer. It used to be popular with retirees and yuppies, however, since adding "head-banging-heaven" to it's repertoire, it may just become a little more popular with the early-rising crowd.