Vincent Redux

As one of my personal heroes, Stephen Jay Gould once said, "The real tragedy of human existence is not that we are nasty by nature, but that a cruel structural asymmetry grants to rare events of meanness such power to shape our history." As if we didn't need reason enough already, one reason to be good to others which I have always found deeply compelling is that singular acts of wrongness have an uncanny tendency to quickly have effects grossly disproportionate to their true size. History and our own personal experience is full of examples of instances where simple words or actions have led to profound personal and/or professional tragedy.

Three years ago, one such action sent me out of the trajectory of the VCF group at Toronto. It involved a young Chinese man, probably a second-generation Canadian like myself; someone who like me at the time, carried within him a deep and painful emotional burden. His name was Vincent. I won't go into details, going back to old wounds like how I'd pick at a dried-red scab. All I can do is link back to the original post I wrote on him back at The Chrysalis. The act wasn't directed by him at us, but rather, I feel it was directed by us at him. And I really do mean "us" especiallly including me - there's no sense passing judgement on someone else if you don't submit to the same gavel yourself. It was clear that he needed something from us, and after all the time I've had to think about it I don't know quite what it was - companionship? Friendship? Love? - but I do know that when we, or should I say, I, had been challenged to rise to the occasion, nothing happened. The disappointment I felt compelled me to leave for good. I've not seen anyone of them ever since with the exception of a few friends, and to this day I still think and wonder about them.

For reasons I still can't fully grasp, I took the whole of the text from that post, and sent it in an email to the VCF staff worker we had at the time, a woman I hadn't seen in years - and had left behind in a reclusive vanishing moment, left to expecting me, but never seeing me. Remarkably, about a week later, she sent me a reply, thanking me for my willingness to share such a deeply personal story with her. The rest of the email was terse and succinct - she would forward the concerns I'd voiced at the next executive meeting and present my case before them. Thank you, farewell, and goodbye. At the time I perceived a thinly veiled hostility draped in curt politeness, but now in retrospect I feel that it was her way of dealing with what amounted to a complete core dump of a mind in an email, sent her wey by a curiously melancholic student she met once who never talked to anyone, and who never got talked to.

It wouldn't be fair to fault the VCF group there for what happened. I see myself probably reacting in the same way as the staff worker did if our roles were reversed, and it's only natural to assume that a Christian group servicing a university with over 60,000 students spread across three campuses and seven colleges has a set of challenges not seen in a group serving UNB and STU. The staff worker I knew there was an incredibly wonderful and vibrant woman who would always light up a room that she entered. Perhaps the fault was my own for not taking the risk to reach out to her.

Still - I can't get out of my mind the image of Vincent, captured in a snapshot in my mind that I hastily and furiously typed out on my blog. I can't get out of my mind the emotion of bitter desolation he exuded and how they so well resonated with my own that it almost seemed like our hearts were beating in sync with each other. I wondered how it was that, if we started out the same way in our faith, I had been able to hold on while others I had known and met like myself and Vincent continued to suffer and fade, their faith or whatever remnant of it that was left gently slipping away. How could God allow others to suffer like that, while at the same time letting me retain my faith? I couldn't accept the idea that God could be like that. Then I remembered the old French proverb that "God helps those who help themselves", that God never gives us a problem or a situation that He knows we couldn't possibly handle. Perhaps God does give us the tools that we, the spiritually depauperate, need to survive in our faith as Christians; it's only up to us to recognize what they are and how to use them. Maybe that means I had my mind attuned in such a way as to do both, meanwhile Vincent may simply take a little while longer. I don't know at all.

I asked a few people I met this weekend to pray for him. It still isn't the same as the hug I wanted to give him all of those years ago, but perhaps it goes some distance to make up for my own failure to be there for Vincent when he didn't even know that he really needed me. I pray that he will find the peace that he seeks. For the disillusioned, the angry, and the broken and the sad, peace is often the only thing we can ever hope to strive for.

I'm from Toronto. In Canada. That's CA-NA-DA...

The UNB/STU IVCF meeting last week was a real riot - the people from Wycliffe Bible Translation were there promoting the work that they were doing (translating scripture into various language for mass consumption by third-world populations), and of course, Urbana '06, now held in St. Louis (which makes me wonder why they kept on calling it Urbana, since it's traditionally held in Urbana, Illinois).

There was the usual prayer, and meet-n'-greet, with the reps; a bubbly well-dressed middle-aged woman and her husband, and a perky and even more bubbly young woman from Atlantic Baptist University. We were exchanging pleasantries and introductions when one of them turns me to says,

What about you? You must come from very far away...

In what looked to me like the most patronizingly condescending tone of voice possible in an older-middle-aged Church-going Bible-believing Christian housewife. Oh, I see. So I probably look to you like I'm from some backwater third-world country in the middle of nowhere (with no doubt any running water, electricity, or appreciation for "Western Civilization") quite probably because I:

a) Am not white
b) Am not white
c) Happen to have a stutter
d) Am not white

Imagine her surprise when I tell her I'm from Toronto. And I actually said it a little more slowly, just for added emphasis: "To-ron-to".


Unexpected racial stereotypes, Take 2

The whole thing eventually ended and I assumed my dutiful role of walking one of my friends home, all the while enjoying her relating of some personal points of interest in her life. We had the good fortune of meeting up with one of the guys, who, of course, proeceeds to completely take over the conversation, by, of course, shifting it to the one topic of conversation which renders me completely impotent both verbally and intellectually: musical performance. I cede the floor, and at the very end, he turns to his house...and wouldn't you know it, it's just my luck that he happens to ask me

So, where are you from?

Uh, Toronto. I've told you that before, you know, but hey, I can understand that since we've just met and barely known each other beyond a few weeks...

Oh, I'm just asking because I wasn't sure if you were from around here-

My friend asks me what's going on, and of course I clue her in as to why he's so amazed that I'm from Toronto. Psst! Hint: I'm not white...

Of course, I make sure he's within earshot.

No, no, it's because you really act like someone who's from Fredericton...

And of course I nod my head politely, outwardly take his comment at face value, and tell him how well I've acclimatized myself to the rather un-Torontonian pace and style of life here. Yeah, nice recovery, 'bro.


On the persistence of the reliance of outward appearances in the formation of judgements on people

Reading an essay in a Stephen Jay Gould book I bought at the Owl's Nest brought to mind just how vulnerable we are to the dangers of judging a proverbial book by its cover. Gould talked about Frankenstein's Monster, and the horrible tragedy of one of its original messages in Shelley's novel - the evils that can come out of our natural aversion to things we find anomalous or outwardly unsightly and repugnant. When it gets right down to it, we as a society are still so immersed in our socio-cultural biases and in socio-cultural images and sterotypes...and many of those images and sterotypes reinforce arguably negative (or at the very least mildly unpleasant and distasteful) assumptions and beliefs about those people.

For all of our talk of racial equality and racial "colorblindedness" we still find ourselves subconsciously making assumptions about people right off the bat based off of what we see and how we see it - in fact, this very blog post itself is an example of this. For all I know, it's most certain that the two people I encountered that night are both people who said what they said without any malice or negative racial intent, and buddy who expressed his surprise at me being from Toronto most likely thought that I actually had been from Fredericton.

I don't harbour hatred or frustration towards them...perhaps a desire to ask them more about what they thought of me and why they thought it. Rather, I feel a substantial amount of frustration at the fact that it's now 2006 and I still get funny looks from people that I'm sure I wouldn't get if I were of the Caucasian persuasion. Back in Toronto, I could hit up a conversation with someone of another nationality and no one would think anything of it, but here I can't help but wonder if people still subconsciously have "funny ideas" about non-white people. Ok, ok, I realize it's not fair to expect a melting pot of multicultural diversity in Atlantic Canada of all places, but we live in an area of 24-hour cable TV news, blogs, and the Global Village. I mean, we live in a country that is arguably defined by its multiculturalism. I don't think expecting a little multicultural and racial awareness is too much to ask.



(EDIT: I've chosen to follow this up with a postscript, where you get to see me with egg all over my face. Isn't that fun?)

"Live and don't learn, that's us."

Back in Costa Rica, Dan told me that it's not the act of making mistakes which people should regret - it's our failiure to learn from them, and therefore, keep making them. But what if you make a mistake so long ago that you've forgotten the lesson it's taught you? I get that feeling when I think about a situation I've gotten myself into with someone I met here. I can't really remember the last time I thought about actually being forward and active in expressing an intent that I had towards someone and now I'm starting to relearn the ins and outs of that horrible business. It's so messy, and imprecise, something that I as a scientist just can't really stand. It's not like I can predict quantifiably what someone may or may not do when I approach them and try to chat them up to befriend them or even eventually ask them out. It all seems so random.

I keep thinking of Paulina. I think I might have grossly offended her and that that may be the reason why I can't get in touch with her even though I've sent her countless emails and left many, many messages both at her house and on her cell phone. I really did try to get in touch with her before I moved to Fredericton; unlike many of my friends which I ended up shunning, I really did try to spend some time with her. But I ended up getting nothing. Maybe she's going through another hard time (also quite likely) but maybe she would have told me. The only way I could have grossly offended her that I can think of is leaving without giving her a proper goodbye, but it's hard to say goodbye to someone if they're not around.

Well. I suppose I'll try again.

In other news, I haven't gotten anything from Counselling Services yet. And yes, I think I'm still interested in that. It's something that might help, at least. And something's better than nothing, anyway. Oh yes, and we finally have the heating system installed. Now they need to balance it or something. I'm not sure - all I know is that it still doesn't work.

A Quick Retraction

Okay, okay, okay.

I take back what I said earlier about the people here in residence. It wasn't really a fair thing to say, and in my defence I can only say that I was being overly facetious and very rude (okay, really, really rude). Then again, that's par for the course for me.

I met two girls outside while I was getting some fresh air with my coffee, one of them having just moved in. Really nice, mature people, more the type of people I'd feel comfortable around, as opposed to some of the others I've seen while I've been going in and out of my suite, and that's not a dig at them, that's the truth. God knows how socially awkward and inept I am around people, especially intimidating strangers, and let's face it - I feel really intimidated by some of the people I've seen around here (men and women).

So, yes, to quickly sum up, social life = improving, and other res-mates = actually pretty good.

So I guess things are starting to look up for me after all...

Let it stay...

Well, let's go over what I have:

- a roof over my head
- food (sometimes, provided I synchronize my life to the dining hall's schedule)

Let's go over what I don't have:

- laundry
- dishwasher
- heating
- telephone
- Internet access
- window curtains
- shower curtain
- a social life

I realize that it'll all be hunky-dory in a few months' time when this is all done, but I really don't care right now at this point where things are promised to be in a few months' time - I only really give a damn about the way things are now. And right now things really don't look so good.

The last few days have been really grating on me. And it's not just the lack of amenties which is frustrating me; it's just the general string of frustration which seems to be coming at me non-stop. It's nothing terribly substantially major, just things which build up over time, more and more. If it's not one thing, it's something else, and if it's not something else, it's something extra.

But there's one more thing. I'm completely, and totally alone. I've made aquaintances with one person, but she's hardly in a position where she's to fend for herself: she's got her family with her, as do many other people in the building. And for the people who don't, they're all wonderfully chummy with the others on their floor or in their suite.

Today, my roommate and I did some shopping for some essentials and it really hit home just how much of a disadvantage I am without a car. Ever moreso without a driver's license. This whole driver's license thing is starting to really get to me again - and while on the one hand I have a reasonably valid excuse for not having one, on the other hand I really don't. Stress, stress, stress. When will it ever end? Will it ever end?

Labour Day in Fredericton

Monday Afternoon. It's Labour Day. I moved in yesterday morning without any specific incident, although I felt a lot of pity for a poor family (Indian?) whose reserved van taxi ignored the reservation they made and picked up three other people from the airport, leaving without them. I almost took him myself, and I would have felt pretty bad if I did (then again, if I had taken him, I wouldn't have known about the family). On the flight going into Fredericton, I chatted up a nice second-year transfer student from Malta going to STU. Thinking about an earlier conversation I had with Jordan about the nuances of socializing before I left, I tried to turn that into something along the lines of meeting up with her later on, but she declined. I guess it came out wrong. It's been a long time since I've had a chance to be in that kind of situation. Then again, I haven't been in many of these situations to begin with, and I never was really good with them anyway.

All of the fears I had about the building from when I was here the other week seemed to be pretty true (though they did finish laying the bricks for the outside walls). No TV, phones, or Internet access. No laundry. No dishwashers. No heating. Everything else seems to work, though it's just my luck that the "everything else" is the "everything else" that I need.

This afternoon a fire alarm malfunctioned. A bit of a nailbiter, since the alarm control/status panel in the lobby reported a fire breaking out in the basement floor down the hall where heavy construction was still taking place. An electrical control panel was hastily covered with cardboard with various warning signs. I figure, if there's any place for a fire to start (barring some idiot carelessly leaving something on a stove or in an oven, or something smoking-related) it would be there. I got a chance to take a look at some of the other people in the building. The majority of them all girls, all somewhat pretty (I suppose) and all most likely WASPs (Something tells me I can get away with using that here). All of them on some level appeared to be somewhat annoyingly irritating. At the very least, none of them seems to be anyone I could see myself talking to. I'm at a point in my life now where I'm not about to start wasting my time on people who don't find me interesting enough to talk to. I've been through that, you know? Making conversation with people who don't think of you as something worthy of any thought beyond a passing interest in frivolous conversation, of any effort beyond a few words spoken here and there is something I just don't care for anymore, and I like think I left all of that shit behind back in Toronto. Maybe if I painted my face white, dyed my hair blonde, and wore blue contact lenses I could change that. Not that I'm about to do that or anything.

It's been three days now (since check-in opened up; two since I arrived) and my other two roommates aren't here yet. Something tells me that they probably asked to get reassigned to other rooms in other buildings, at least until the other stuff here comes online or perhaps for the rest of the school year. I've not seen anyone else from my floor, so for all I know I could be alone here in the basement, where my suite is. I did see a charming young couple coming up the stairs while I was heading down, so maybe they're occupying a suite or room of their own. Not that that's any help to me.

Lorem Ipsum, and All That Jazz

Ok, so for the benefit of the small percentage of the small percentage who read my blog, know me in person and don't know what's going on...I'm moving. Or rather, have moved. I tried to keep this a little under wraps because I didn't want to actually start talking about it until I'd had all of my i's dotted and t's crossed. Well, I'm not at that stage yet (HR hasn't cleared my paperwork and my residence building on campus is still under construction) but I'm far enough along to say that yes, I once and truly have now moved on from the University of Toronto and Toronto, and on to the University of New Brunswick and Fredericton. I suppose I should leave a final coda message on The Chrysalis, but right now I'm feeling both tired and lazy. And besides, with the exception of one person to whom I feel particularly connected to, I've notifed everyone I've wanted to notify about the details and circumstances of my move - everyone else I know can just bite me for all I care.

I don't know if I'll keep up with the same kind of style I'd been using earlier. The whole evolution/creation thing is tired, and it seems like I can't say a word about my feelings without someone getting annoyed and pissy about it - so, I'm going to play it by ear a little until I find a happy new equilibrium.

Hitting the ground, running

Got together with my supervisor for a good few hours or so hammering out the details of my work. As always I've got a whole sheet full of stuff to do - and this time I think I can get through it all. It's a fair bit of work, but the sooner I get it done, the sooner I'll be able to work on other things too.

The campus is beginning to come to life now. I saw a school group touring the campus, school camps out on the fields playing, and more than a few undergrads lurking about. Steve has a summer NSERC student about who's work reminds me somewhat of Rosanna McGuire's work back at Joker's Hill in 2003, when I was working for Marc. I hope to get the chance to meet her sometime.

Somehow I keep on being amazed at the demeanour of the people here. Yesterday, we were eating lunch at Wendy's and one of the girls working the counter was going around offering mints to the customers. Huh? Rather odd to see someone doing that even at a place like the Pickle Barrel back in Toronto. I feel sorry for the girl, having to do that and get the bemused and bewildered looks of people munching on their burgers and fries as a thank-you. I should have taken one to make her feel better. Anyway.

Later on I decided to strike out on my own for dinner - had some pizza at a place near an Indian restaurant we ate at on my first day here. I asked for take out, and the woman at the front didn't just shove my pizza into a bag...she wrapped it up in foil, put it in the bag, and then stapled it shut. Wow.

I was on my way back to the city proper from campus when a girl who crossed the street smiled and said hi to me for no apparent reason. Yeah, I'm definitely not in Toronto anymore.

How does it feel? (When you're alone and you're cold inside...)

I landed in Fredericton on Monday just in time to catch the rain. A light spitting rain that would ebb and flow into something bordering on a torrential downpour that stayed somewhat sane. I ventured out, with my supervisor's umbrella in hand, to somehow make some sense of this predicament I've found myself in.

The campus is on the side of a hill - you're greeted at the front gate bordering Beaverbrook Street by a large hill with the building housing the Registrar's Office (Sir Howard Douglas Hall) up top, immediately to your right. To the left is the Faculty of Kinesiology, housed in the Lady Beaverbrook Gymnasium. Note to self: find out who these "Beaverbrook" people were. I think I'll need to make a local investment in a bike; the hill is going to be a killer on my poor knees.

The campus was completely deserted. I mean, totally. Here and there I could get a glimpse of people who'd already moved into their dorms - I couldn't figure out if they were grad students or not. The only other activity consisted of a few brave souls running errands, and two rather comely girls working the front desk at the empty and diminutive bookstore. I don't know why the girls here seem so much more prettier than the girls back home. There must be something in the water, I suppose. (Man, I know someone who's going to chew me out for that comment, I'm sure). It was a mixed blessing, I guess. Wandering about aimlessly, while not having to worry about looking like you're wandering about aimlessly. All you needed to do was to just hide your map the moment a car or truck drove by. Then again, maybe they were passing me by wondering what on earth could possess someone to be out here in the rain.

And all the while, as I walked the empty walkways and streets, I couldn't help but think of a song which seemed to fit my general mood and sentiment so well...