Culture shock

Okay, so what does it mean when a gadget like the boyfriend pillow, is popular? Not only popular, but in demand for export to other countries?

I often get a kick out of gadgets shown on television. This one is just tops though. The ads depict little, cute Japanese women sleeping comfortably in the 'arm' of a man. The part of the man that Carrie, on Sex and the City, refers to as the 'nook'.

Here is a review on the boyfriend pillow. Note, one can order a model with an alarm built in - now wouldn't that be helpful? Who needs a man - especially when you can get one for a mere 39 pounds to inhabit your bed?

It's not often I find an interesting, or fresh, representation on the topic of love. Although, today I read an essay by Robertson Davies titled The Pleasures of Love. A few stellar quotes here to set the tone for the essay.

"The pleasures of love are for those who are hopelessly addicted to another living creature. The reasons for such addiction are so many that I suspect they are never the same in any two cases."

"I am constantly astonished by the people, otherwise intelligent, who think that anything so complex and delicate as marriage can be left to take care of itself. One sees them fussing about all sorts of lesser concerns, apparently unaware that side by side with them - often in the same bed - a human creature is perishing from lack of affection, or emotional malnutrition."

"To keep in constant, sensitive rapport with those we love most, we must open our hearts and our minds. Do this, and the rarest, most delicate pleasures of love will reveal themselves."

And in conclusion:
"Finally it [love] promotes longevity. Nobody quite a club where the conversation is fascinating, revealing, amusing, various and unexpected until the last possible minute. Love my be snubbed to death: talked to death, never!"

This essay left me breathless. Love, communicated like this, may be the greatest therapy for any couple.

For me, an Angelo addict, this essay completely wraps up the essence of being married to Angelo. It may be a bit personal to divulge here, but it is a wee representation of the culture 'we' are. Additionally, there are several movies and tunes out there that amplify my version of love, but this one is the most recent. What represents your culture of 'love'?

Gotta love it when you write a monstrous post and the screen freezes up. It never happens at the beginning of a post, but more often at the end of one, you know doing spell-check or inserting a link. Grief galore. I couldn't bare to attempt another post until today.

For some time, I have been considering a post about my Oma and Opa Balzer. They are quite a pair - Oma is 69 years young and Opa is 72 years younger. We got quite a distinct taste of their culture a month ago, when we drove out to the cabin at Sheridan Lake for a weekender. This cabin is older than me. Sheridan Lake is the Balzer family getaway, about 20 minutes away from 100 Mile House.

Try and picture these two folks with the following descriptors: Mennonites + Paraguayan + Canadian + savvy and successful business partners + parents + nature enthusiasts + grandparents (at the age of 39 and 42) + cowboy vacationers + fisherwoman and hunter + great-grandparents (for nearly a decade now) + charasmatic Christians and co-founders of Victory Christian Centre + retirees + cancer survivors + married for 51 years.

So, I hadn't spent a chunk of time with them - let's say anything over the three hour mark - for over 20 years. This trip was unique because it was just Angelo and I with the two of them. That's hasn't happened, ever. It was frightening and exciting, equally.

In the end, the weekender with them was not only a pleasant culture shock, but also a revelation of how rich life can be. I am not anything like my Oma and Opa, but I do have a lot to learn from them. Specifically, I need to learn the meanings of resilience and unconditional love. They are supremely proud of their life, heritage, beliefs and giant family tree. They blow my mind - how can they talk about the inevitability of death and yet chuckle at the overthrow of their spouse in a game of Tri-omino (triangular domino) coincidentally? Phenomenal.

For a glimpse of my birthday interview with Holly P., check out September 23rd on Watchmeturn30.com. Love the rank party picture - seems fitting.

I am 30 today.

Therefore, a listen to my most comforting and enlightening U2 CD is required: The Joshua Tree. The album speaks for itself, so no commentary required therein. Although it is important to note, I am Running to Stand Still.

I do need to state that I love this album completely, though I would not declare it the best of all U2 albums. I've had this conversation with several individuals, Jer most recently, and have declared Achtung Baby the best album to date. All That You Can't Leave Behind is stellar because of the consistent mortality theme throughout, but not the best.

Achtung Baby is the most consistent and inventive. I also love that it encapsulates the early-mid-life-crisis that Bono claims to have had during the recording and subsequent tour of the album. It clearly embodies my search for self over the past decade, better than any other album, U2 or otherwise. It claims no particular answers, which is not only a recognition of our fallability, but also a nod to our ability to rise up and declare our independence. Okay, I've started a U2 conversation. With me, this sort of dialogue can get very detailed and long-winded. So, I'll invite comments for now.

Anyway, if you care to raise a glass with me - preferably a cosmopolitan - then crank up that U2 album, whatever it may be and take a wonderful gulp.

Less than 3 hours to go till I'm 30.

In rebellion of the age I imagined 30 to be, I ran and ran. Yes, in the name of training, but also in defiance of aging. I am certain this feeling - independence, stubbornness, pain tolerance, immature problem-solving - will grow stronger as I age.

Therefore, marathon life is looking better than ever before. Often, I think of the Penguin and say, "If the Penguin can, so can I." Other times, I look at the confirmation list on the Royal Victoria Marathon website. The E's for the half-marathon are astounding, really (note the age group association). Only 19 days to go!

I have experienced a new form of culture shock today: hanging out with my buddy, who happens to be 2 1/2 years old.

I'm not sure if I have hung out with a kid, more precisely any kid between 3 months old to 11 years old, on my own since... I got my first job at Dairy Queen. Ahhh... DQ, my first uniform, my first independence, my first money, my first encounters with weirdos called customers, my first time of being recruited by the big guys to leave school and join the DQ team. Leave the cheerleading team, you gotta be kidding! Getting off track... Yep, that's a few years since I've had some serious kid hang time, if I don't count my lil' sister, that is.

To me, it is an incredible reality to see my little cutie girl communicate what she wants, how she wants it and when that should happen (usually now). It's also amazing to see how she responds to things, varied amounts of stimulus with toys, music, art, and kids shows. The ability to let loose of all my better judgement gets thrown out the window hanging out with this girl. It's too fun to be responsible. I can use silly voices and get laughs rather than leers. I can have my hair look bizarre without getting a judgement from my audience. I can dance all day and have a partner to boot. I am pretty free.

Now, I don't know how comfortable I am with being in charge. I mean, she' s in charge, but I'm supposed to be, right? Hmmm... I'll have to figure that out.

It also blows my mind at what sort of television there is for kids. I know I'm a little late on the inside info here, but the amount of tv for kids is insane. The variety, quality, and target age groups are so specific. I remember watching Sesame Street and Mr. Dressup. That's it. Well, maybe throw in a little of the Friendly Giant too. The amount of shows available is astounding.

I remember watching quite a bit of Sesame Street, and learning some Espanol. It seems to be everpresent in the children's shows now. Why don't we have more of this as adults? We need some of that knowledge too. I guess we get to the point when we have to decide whether or not we like subtitles and that's when the language crossover occurs.

Anyway - in terms of culture - we've got it all: learning how to communicate, freedom to be true to yourself or uninhibited, letting go of or holding onto a certain level of control, immense amounts of entertainment in all forms, and having exposure to understanding a new language.

No matter how you look at it, next week is a big one. As it happens, it is the week that marks my 30th birthday.

In hope of finding some sort 30 information I happened upon a wonderful photoblog called Watch Me Turn 30 by Holly P. Holly recieved a digital camera on her 29th birthday and decided to mark each day up to 30 with a pic, and often a little synopsis of her day or thoughts on a variety of items. Most of the excerpts are about turning 30, but sometimes they just celebrate her life in New York. I laughed several times just looking at pictures and/or reading entries that are so refreshingly honest that it was like finding a comrade.

So many reasons to feel happy about my 29th year - definitely my best year yet. Quit my job, moved, traveled India, road-tripped a decent portion of the northern US (see July 7 post and onward for more details), started my journey into student life, initiated my marathon training - for life, I hope, and have yet to work - yes, at a job. Amazing.

What to do about 30? It feels ominous, looming, heavy, and big.

The Wizard of Oz is a movie that keeps me guessing. I've watched it a few times now. I've also read the book, which is quite an interesting diversion from the movie. Two of the latest things to note about The Wizard of Oz... First, Dorothy lands in Oz and of all places, Munchkinland. To me, this is the ultimate example of culture shock. Dorothy says, "We're definitely not in Kansas anymore" and "We must be on the other side of the rainbow." I love her reaction to the new digs. In terms of culture shock, she does pretty well to cope with the place. The munchkins couldn't be more bizarre and the songs couldn't be more odd. The colours are every version of flourescent and yet mushes into one bright blob. On a more distant note, the munchkins overwhelming necessity to tell Dorothy to follow the yellow brick road, over and over again, reminds me of being in another place, more specifically a different culture, where it is common for people to fall all over themselves to help you get where you want to go. Second, the state of the Scarecrow is something I wish I could have. You may ask, why would Esther not want to have a brain? Well, if I compare the Scarecrow to that of the Tinman or the Lion, I'd rather be the Scarecrow. A lack of a brain would be the best combination, because I would have a heart and courage. A heart combined with courage would default the need of a brain. Plus, there are days I wish I wouldn't have a brain at all. Some days, the brain would be best if it were turned off altogether. Yes, I choose the Scarecrow.

At times, I find myself in front of the television with the intent for purposeful viewing and when that occurs, I hope for a program such as this to unravel before me. The award winning documentary, My Flesh and Blood, is heartbreaking, emotionally wearing and truly inspiring. I was stunned by the content and the the tenderness with which the Tom family story was told. Susan, aka Mom, has 13 children living at home. Eleven of them have disabilities. She's adopted all of them. Susan is calm (especially for the viewer) and convinced that these children are her flesh and blood. The dynamic of the house is electric: varied from typical sibling rivalry, to personal drama, to large volumes of self-deprecating humour, to stunning independence and above all, compassion. My favorite parts include Susan's mom's monolouge, Susan's comment to Joe "We're second row people", and Margaret's story and wonderfully necessary breakdown. Every time you go down a hallway in the house and look into a room you're surprised by what's in it. Fantastic.

I am a visual addict. Many of my previous posts refer to cinema, photographs, and books/articles. I am always hungry for a visual feast. These 'feasts' often lead to animated discussions and formulation of ideas with friends. An art project, titled Every Bus Stop in Surrey, BC, is something that has interests me and presents an opportunity for a visual feast. The Straight article which examines the Sylvia Grace Borda's visual purpose caught my attention with this headline, Photos, Film Capture Surrey's Non-Identity. I may have to check this display or study of Surrey out. I regularly wonder whether or not to take pictures of Chilliwack as a study of suburban culture. It feels forced, since it is where I live. Taking pictures of places that aren't home is more obvious material to snap. Is it okay to snap a picture of the parking lot at Walmart? It may seem boring, but it is truly a reflection of the culture here. The cul-de-sacs present a completely different element of culture (or not?), where the colours of houses are appropriate and little gadgets purposefully placed on manicured lawns include fake abstract deer and artful invitations on wooded signs intended for bunnies to romp freely. It's a bizarre landscape of "home".

The current population in India is second largest after China. It is busting and there are little to no measures in place to control it. In the seventies, Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency which initiated the horrific trend of forced sterilization. This intrusive measure was exercised on the slums of India on all ages of men - unmarried, young married, and even elderly men. It was shameful and obviously ineffectual. Jeremy Copeland wrote an article about a recent, and effective, population control program in India. It is in its test stages, but it is proving to not only encourage population control but also to empower women. What blows my mind is how the culture within this country has made the effectiveness of this method so powerful. The questions that were asked in order to find a solution to the population issue considered status of women, quality of life, and respect for tradition and/or religion. This example demonstrates that culture plays a large role in the ability to solve problems. Something that was not considered in the forced sterilization campaign (complete disaster, by the way). India continues to draw on my heart. I read an article like this and miss the dynamic of the people, the complexity of the enormous issues there, and the constant pulse of life thumping against my every sense. What a bizarre romance it is.

Woke up this morning and rediscovered a gift from a dear friend - a little book with encouraging thoughts about dreams. One particular sentence stood out to me: "You don't know very much until you learn to dream."

This states that the ability to dream is learned. Would this direct us to look at our parents? Or, is it that we need to re-learn it after we face realities, even difficulties, as an adult? What is the measure of knowledge in relation to dreams?

If I look at India, my most recent dream realized, I did learn a lot about life, myself, and my goals. I also learned a lot about the importance to continue to dream - big dreams.

My dream in-the-works is to complete a marathon. This dream is a process. It forces me to re-iterate the dream each day - particularly when my body wants to stop running. Especially when my body wants to start eating poorly(ohh, the wonderful texture of a potato chip - the crunch, the flavour). I guess I'm getting to know myself better as a result of the dream.

I was speaking with a friend about the possibility of living out all of the dreams one has. This friend admitted that they do have all the elements of life that they have ever desired. It is an extremely successful measure of oneself to recognize this. But, now what? Did this person dream too small?

I think so. How can one person understand their potential until a dream is fulfilled? Once it occurs, one's sense of is almost invincible. It is a wonderful and devastating emotion.

For those of you interested in my marathon training, here is the latest update.

As you may know, I registered for the Royal Victoria Half-Marathon in October. I've been working toward the 21 km mark in order to properly prepare for the race. I haven't been paying attention to time, rather distance.

Yesterday, I trained, running 10 minutes and then walking 1 minute before resuming another 10 minute stint. This was fabulous for meeting goals and measuring kilometers. I felt great, envigorated, and motivated. I ran a total of 16.5 km in an hour and 45 minutes. I am blasted today, but not shot. I need to add 5 more km to the run in order to attain the 1/2 marathon marker. It seems quite overwhelming, but I now know I can do it.

Ideally, I would like to run 3 km (steady but sure, you see) every 10 minutes. This would make 21 kms do-able in 70+ minutes. A very good time. Right now I'm at 2.5 kms the first 40 minutes and 2 kms (or less) the last 50 minutes. Five more weeks to dial it! Any ideas out there?