Forwards

I don't usually like forwarded emails... This one is not bad, in a bang your chest kind of way. Enjoy:

British newspaper salutes Canada . . . this is a good read. It is funny howit took someone in England to put it into words... Sunday TelegraphArticle From today's UK wires:Salute to a brave and modest nation - Kevin Myers, 'The Sunday Telegraph'LONDON:

Until the deaths of Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan, probably almostno one outside their home country had been aware that Canadian troops aredeployed in the region.

And as always, Canada will bury its dead, just as the rest of the world, asalways will forget its sacrifice, just as it always forgets nearlyeverything Canada ever does.. It seems that Canada's historic mission is tocome to the selfless aid both of its friends and of complete strangers, andthen, once the crisis is over, to be well and truly ignored.

Canada is the perpetual wallflower that stands on the edge of the hall,waiting for someone to come and ask her for a dance. A fire breaks out, sherisks life and limb to rescue her fellow dance-goers, and suffers seriousinjuries. But when the hall is repaired and the dancing resumes, there isCanada, the wallflower still, while those she once helped Glamorously cavortacross the floor, blithely neglecting her yet again.

That is the price Canada pays for sharing the North American continent withthe United States, and for being a selfless friend of Britain in two globalconflicts.

For much of the 20th century, Canada was torn in two different directions:It seemed to be a part of the old world, yet had an address in the new one,and that divided identity ensured that it never fully got the gratitude itdeserved.

Yet it's purely voluntary contribution to the cause of freedom in two worldwars was perhaps the greatest of any democracy. Almost 10% of Canada'sentire population of seven million people served in the armed forces duringthe First World War, and nearly 60,000 died. The great Allied victories of1918 were spearheaded by Canadian troops, perhaps the most capable soldiersin the entire British order of battle.

Canada was repaid for its enormous sacrifice by downright neglect, it'sunique contribution to victory being absorbed into the popular Memory assomehow or other the work of the 'British.'

The Second World War provided a re-run. The Canadian navy began the war witha half dozen vessels, and ended up policing nearly half of the Atlanticagainst U-boat attack. More than 120 Canadian warships participated in theNormandy landings, during which 15,000 Canadian soldiers went ashore onD-Day alone.

Canada finished the war with the third-largest navy and the fourth largestair force in the world. The world thanked Canada with the same sublimeindifference as it had the previous time.

Canadian participation in the war was acknowledged in film only if it wasnecessary to give an American actor a part in a campaign in which the UnitedStates had clearly not participated - a touching scrupulousness which, ofcourse, Hollywood has since abandoned, as it has any notion of a separateCanadian identity.

So it is a general rule that actors and filmmakers arriving in Hollywoodkeep their nationality - unless, that is, they are Canadian. Thus MaryPickford, Walter Huston, Donald Sutherland, Michael J. Fox, William Shatner,Norman Jewison, David Cronenberg, Alex Trebek, Art Linkletter and DanAykroyd have in the popular perception become American, and ChristopherPlummer, British.

It is as if, in the very act of becoming famous, a Canadian ceases to beCanadian, unless she is Margaret Atwood, who is as unshakably Canadian as amoose, or Celine Dion, for whom Canada has proved quite unable to find anytakers.

Moreover, Canada is every bit as querulously alert to the achievements ofits sons and daughters as the rest of the world is completely unaware ofthem. The Canadians proudly say of themselves - and are unheard by anyoneelse - that 1% of the world's population has provided 10% of the world'speacekeeping forces.

Canadian soldiers in the past half century have been the greatestpeacekeepers on Earth - in 39 missions on UN mandates, and six on non-UNpeacekeeping duties, from Vietnam to East Timor, from Sinai to Bosnia.

Yet the only foreign engagement that has entered the popular non-Canadianimagination was the sorry affair in Somalia, in which out-of-controlparatroopers murdered two Somali infiltrators. Their regiment was thendisbanded in disgrace - a uniquely Canadian act of self-abasement for which,naturally, the Canadians received no international credit.

So who today in the United States knows about the stoic and selflessfriendship its northern neighbour has given it in Afghanistan?

Rather like Cyrano de Bergerac, Canada repeatedly does honourable things forhonourable motives, but instead of being thanked for it, it remainssomething of a figure of fun. It is the Canadian way, for which Canadiansshould be proud, yet such honour comes at a high cost. This past year moregrieving Canadian families knew that cost all too tragically well.

Lest we forget.

Deleted Comments

I don't like it. I don't like it when people delete their comments. Why do they do it? What are you hiding, what are you ashamed of, guilty of, afraid of? What are you reconsidering?


When you leave a comment, it leaves a time and a date. That comment was for a certain time and date, a point that will never come again. You won't see that opportunity arise ever again. Don't turn back. Not here, of all places. Not on some punk student's blog. Of all the places to let go, let it be here. Say something honest.


Don't let the future put out the past.

https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1889457682987549428&postID=2107387512094084420

A thing occurred the other day...

So... I'm waiting for class, minding my own business, just reading some flyers posted on a bulletin board outside my class. Actually, I was reading a pretty ridiculous one about starting a quiet violent revolution or some shit like that.

Anyways, I'm standing there, and this girl walks by, and says "Hi."

So, I turn to see who it is, and it's a stranger, someone I've never met before. So, reactively, and even if I thought about it, I'd probably still do this; but I give her a confused look.

So she says "I just wanted to say hi."

So, there's lots to go from here. Wanting to say hi... That's, an interesting phrase. And the more I think about it, the more I feel the same. Don't you ever just want to say hi to people? Everyone who walks by, just wish them a good afternoon or whatever?

*Side Story*

One day, I was in the brown lounge, and I had a box of crackers. It was a busy day, and lots of my friends were coming by, so I would offer them a cracker. The few friends that stook around started making fun of me for this. But this only spurred me on, and I started offering crackers to strangers. Not quite the same as wishing someone a good afternoon, but good enough.

Anyways... So, I reply with a casual "Hey. How's it going?"

So we get to talking, and apparently she's had a bad day, and that really brightened things up. I got her name and added her as a friend on facebook, cause, "That's what all the kids do these days, right?" Her words, not mine.

So why do I agree to this? It reminds me of myself. Or, an older me I suppose. In first year, I was sitting in this brown lounge, and a pretty blonde girl was eating a bag of chips. I asked her, "Would you give me a chip?" And she looked a little confused "Uh... Ok..." And I laugh and shake my head "No thanks. I just wanted to know if you'd give me one. I don't actually want one." And she was SO confused. Almost frustrated! She asked me, "What is this, some kind of experiment? You're a psych major aren't you?!"

Am I that predictable? Haha!! I laughed and replied that "I was just curious, that's all." Anyways, that girl's name was Ursina. Great gal, we actually were in the same Calculus class together. Good times. We still talk, but don't hang out as much as we should. She's a bio major, maybe going to Russia for grad school.

Anyways, this stranger that said hi to me the other day, reminded me of myself. A self that wasn't afraid to be, different. Just kinda goof and foolish and weird. But I mean, really, where else but Nipissing can you have that sort of uniqueness? At a bigger school in Toronto or the like, everything is jam packed with people and stuff taking up your time, it's just... Would you really have time to be an individual? Perhaps in a private sense, but, standing out can be counter productive. I don't get much work done when I'm talking to people passing by. I don't know... Something to chew on I suppose.

Bad Habits: Eating off the floor II

So yeah, I'm at McDonald's today with my friend Melissa, getting some grease in me to help cure a hangover (I think that's a myth). Anyways, there is this family sitting across from us. And this lady drops one of her french fries. She bends over to pick it up, and her hand is almost there, then she stops, and shakes her head, and then goes back to her meal. Now... I don't know if it was a reaction to eat the fry, or if it was a reaction just to clean up, but it was there, and it was cool.

I'm a dork.

Bad Habits: Eating off the floor

So... I Live at home, and am very fortunate to do so. My mother, like myself (nature-nurture debate anyone?), is a bit of a clean freak. So, we keep our house in good working order. Clean the shower regularly, do dishes right after dinner, and vacuum. Clean floors is very important in my home. It's nice to be able to walk around and not step on things. More importantly, it allows for fair use of the "Five Second Rule". You know, when you drop food on the floor, and it is still good for five seconds? I'm sure if I looked real hard I could find some studies that tell me that even on a regularly vacuumed and washed floor, five seconds is still too long. Regardless, I still eat the food I drop at home. I'm a messy eater too, so if I didn't practice this habit, I'd probably go hungry; not to mention it would dirty up my floor (see the cycle?).

Anyways... I'm walking through the halls of the university, just outside the neuroscience lab, and there's a french fry on the ground. Instinctively, I stopped, and bent my knees in anticipation of going down and fetching that fry up, saving it from the disgrace of not being eaten. Thank goodness I stopped myself. This is no knock on the custodial staff here, as they do good work, but the amount of traffic they have to deal with doesn't allow for them to keep the floors here safe for eating.

But could you imagine? Actually seeing someone do this? Eating something off of the floor, in public?! I'm damn near tempted to make it happen, cause that french fry looked damn tasty... It even had cheese on it! At least, I think it was cheese. It could've been dirt, or even squished potato cause someone stepped on it.

That's another thing... Who steps on a perfectly good french fry? What if someone really and truly wanted to eat it? Think of the joy and nutritional value that they essentially stole from some potentially needy individual... Ok, that might be a bit extreme. Hehehe...

As clean as I try to keep my environment, eating things off the floor has backfired. Sometimes, I bring chicken sandwiches into the lab and eat there (we're not supposed to eat in the lab), and one time I dropped a piece on the ground, and it was too big and tasty looking to leave behind. So... I ate it. I haven't felt the adverse effects physically, but I was ridiculed socially by my co-workers. I like barbequed chicken more than my co-workers though.

This other time, I was at home, eating clod-hoppers. Chocolate ones. Man, they were tasty. Anyways, I dropped on the floor, and it sorta tumbled away from me, out of sight. Not to let it go to waste, I go scrounging for it. I pick up what I thought was a clod-hopper. It looked like a clod-hopper, it even felt like clod-hopper, but brother, it ...

So, a little side note here... I wanted to say "but brother, it ain't no clod-hopper". But grammatically, that'd be incorrect. I need the past tense version of ain't. What the hell is that?! Weren't? Wasn't (too formal)? Wain't? Twas not (WAY too formal)? My friend just suggested "i'nt". ... My friend is an idiot. I think I'll go with weren't.

... but brother, it weren't no clod-hopper (yeah, that sounds right)!! It had this weird granule texture, almost like coffee grinds... It just wasn't pleasant.

Anyways, here's a link to an article by the Washington Post on the "Five Second Rule". There's lots of other blogs that come up if you google it too.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/07/AR2007070701294_pf.html

Psyc 3356 Design and Analysis

Ok, so, does anyone who reads this blog take that course (see title)?! I have tutorial hours Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 9 AM, and I haven't gotten a single person showing up to them. Should I change them?! If anyone takes the course and has some feedback, hit me with a comment... Yo... *Wikee wikee* ... *Wikee wikee* ... *Wikee wikee* Small time. P-e-ace.

A Good Friend Said This

"It's so much more important to figure out who you want to be rather than what you want to be..."

Thoughts on today

There's a Mel Gibson look a like that keeps coming through here. Oh crap, I'm staring at him, and I think he notices.

Why's Alex limping?

I've got to stop sitting next to the map. It's so creepy when people lean in to look, and almost rest their head on my shoulder.

I hope that guy doesn't see me, I owe him money.

Nice pants.

Slacker.

I'm a jerk.

Man people walk funny...

My thumb is losing circulation.

That guy sounds like Tom Cruise.

April is here. April is gone.

"Circle of friends" - Counting Crows... Good tune...

Thank you for recycling.

Shut up Langan. HA!

There are only two messages there. Why are you standing there for SO long. Finally, sat down.

Cute girl next to me.

I Love the Brown Lounge.

Grad School

Lately, I've been knee deep in thought, pursuing the idea that my undergrad will likely end, and that I may have to actually do something with myself after the celebrations have ended.

I am in the Lovely position of being able to do, essentially, whatever I like. I went to a career counsellor not too long ago, asking them to help give me some direction. And she laughed and went over all the reasons I could do anything. I have pretty good grades, a research background, a charming personality (I put that in there, not her... Hehehe...), the works right? What's a boy to do... Ever since I was little, my mom, my dad, my teachers, even my sister; they all encouraged me. Always letting me know that if I put my mind to things, I can get shit done. I'm paraphrasing, but whatever. Haha!!

Only recently have I began to discover limitations, and honestly, they seem internal. A current figure in my Life that is amongst the most encouraging, is my thesis supervisor Matti. He's the guy who roped me into the lab in first year, and through Love and charisma kept me around... He's an avid supporter of graduate researcher. Master's, PhD's, all that jazz. Of course, he stresses the neuroscience route. Haha!! And for a moment, he almost convinced me.

But moments are fleeting, especially that one. I understand research. I appreciate research. I may even be good at it. But brother, I don't like it. Haha!! I try and be objective, so I try and argue in a pro stance with regards to research. The only reason I could see myself going into research, despite my personal distaste for it, is the fact that I might be good at it; that I might make a difference. But what kind of difference would that be? A few significant differences amongst a pool of studies that bring us micrometres amongst light years towards the truth?

And maybe I'm just trying to convince myself again; trying to rationalize my decision, but... I'd like to hope that a happy me would be far more productive, far more beneficial to you, to my friends, to my family, to society; regardless of my role. Wouldn't we all be better off if I were a happy humble post-man, as opposed to me being a cranky frazzled researcher? I'd like to think so.

When I first decided to at least go to university, the plan was to get my PhD in clinical, and become a registered psychologist. Pretty big ambitions for a high school graduate. I almost made it too... Haha!! But clinical psychology is tough to get into, and I've recently learned that it is VERY research oriented. Practicing psychologists are supposed to be pushing out research studies. No thanks. There goes that dream. But... I still want to help people, I'm still a good listener with good interpersonal skills, and I like to think I'm "wise" and could share useful advice. I think I connect with people. I'd like to still do that.

So, there are a couple of counselling psychology programs that I'm going to apply to. Only them, because, again, why should I do something that doesn't make me happy? No GREs, just marks and a few applications. I think there's an interview for one of them too. And if I don't get into them? Well... Then I find something else; something else that makes me happy.

So this doesn't become just another anti-research rant for me, I'll share some links you might find useful.

http://www.nipissingu.ca/graduatestudies/graduatestudies_funding.asp
http://www.ets.org/portal/site/ets/menuitem.3a88fea28f42ada7c6ce5a10c3921509/?vgnextoid=85b65784623f4010VgnVCM10000022f95190RCRD

Potentially, there is a lot of planning, forms, and applications to go through. If you are interested, start as early as you can. Like, by the beginning of fourth year, if you know what you want to do... Well... You'd be more fortunate than I. :)

And This Is Where You Make A Choice

So... Let's see where this all started...

Anyone who knows me, knows I do Yoga; knows I Love Yoga. Just Hatha stuff. Master the physical before you master the spiritual. So, you're supposed to wait three hours after eating before you do it. Usually that's not a problem, but I ate dinner early, and was super tired and took a little nap, so, I missed all the "waking" hours of the day to do it.

So, I'm sitting downstairs on the computer, and I look at the time (around 10:30 PM) and I say "Ya know what? I should just do my Yoga now. Fuck convention. I'll be up anyways!"

So I march up to my room, all proud and strong, ready to get into it. The first pose is real loud. It's a breathing pose. It has the ability to wake people up in the next room, i.e., my mom, who's a light sleeper to begin with.

I stand in front of my door, and I stop. I say to myself "And This Is Where You Make A Choice." And it wasn't much of a choice, and I don't think I fully understood what my motivations were for not doing my Yoga. Probably laziness, but post-hoc, I like to say I'm considerate of other people's sleeping habits.

But what I really want to get at, is how long it's been since I've acknowledged that I could make a choice. Before university, I "made choices" left right and centre. I would choose for the sake of choosing, manipulating my behaviour and environment just to get a change. And most importantly, I believed it was my choice to make. I believed I was in control of something; of myself.

Then university hit. Stuck in a neuroscience lab with nothing but logic and neurons. Behaviour is just an expression of the brain. Choice is just an illusion your brain creates to make that feeling of "self" and "consciousness" feel important. And the quotation marks set in... Ugh... Three years essentially of being drilled with the idea that I'm just a biological machine. Oh, but it's a beautiful thing. Something so intricate, so complex, yet, so basic. I'm a miracle out of control! Fuck that. It's not beautiful. It sucks. It tears away all the meaning, all the Life, all the humanity. I don't care if it is just an illusion, I want to believe again. I want to believe in the self, in consciousness, in soul, in choice.

And this is where cognitive dissonance sets in. Here I'm stuck. The scientist in me knows that I can't measure mind. I can't touch it. It's seen the data, the research. Fuck, I've done some of it! I know we're just cogs sewn together.

But there's this other part of me that feels I mean something more. And even if it's a lie, it almost seems a worthwhile ignorance to have. To believe I can make a difference, that I can be good or bad, and that it is I who chooses. I don't want to be another domino. I don't want to go with the flow anymore. I want to read and react. I want to be a believer again, even if I'm just believing in myself; or the will of humans.

Cause that's important to me. One of the reasons I'm not "religious" per se, is that I Love people. I find them interesting, strange, mysterious, beautiful. They're so damn neat!! Haha!! You see people everywhere though. Often, in a bad light. And, I don't want to believe in God, because I want to believe in people. If there is a God, great. But I want humans to fix our own mistakes, and take responsibility for our actions, cause, I know we can?

And the scientist in me says "No Nick... You believe we can. You hope we can."

So now, is the beginning of something old, as I revert to a previous state of self. I believe in people. I have hope for people. I believe in myself. I have hope for myself. And this is my choice. Enjoy.

Off the Record

No, this isn't a comment about one of my favourite shows on TSN (http://www.tsn.ca/shows/otr/), although, it may come up at a later post.

No no, this is about the realization that the blogs in the Nipissing University Blog Contest won't be considered a part of said contest, until October first. I'm sure they've said that before, but they sorta reminded us all.

So screw this. I'm not gonna blog until October. Why do it for nothing right?!

...

Ok, so... I'll keep blogging. I'm getting a few ideas here and there. I'm starting to enjoy this again. Though recently, and continuing for the next couple days, I'll be busy with a bit of work. This may prevent me from making a lot of posts. But who knows, maybe I can build up a bit of a fan base, and have a head start come October. Make a few friends. Share a few laughs. It's all gravy! "Cinamon and gravy!!"

Girls Who Can Sing

I am an avid music fan. I like all kinds of tunes, from rap and hip hop, to hard rock, to classical opera, to indie alternative, to dance hits and pop chart toppers, to swing (makes me wish I could dance) and even some new age industrial music. I especially like music that is emotionally charged. Because of this, the vocal portion of a song is extremely appealing to me. The words and the "meaning" behind a song is often more blunt after you hear the words, as opposed to just a few chords and keys.

I also Love to sing myself, I'm just, not very good at it. Haha!! But I've always wanted to be a rock star; the front man of a jamming band like the Red Hot Chili Peppers or Incubus (two of my favs). I like diverse musicians; people who can bring energy and power to their music, and just as quickly mellow things out. If you can touch more than one genre, all the better.

Being a singer, at least in a live act, I think it would allow you to attempt various forms of "art". You're obviously a musician, making sounds and harmonies that appeal to a mass audience, that isn't always going to be receptive. They'll let you know if you're good or not. You can also be a poet, crafting lyrics and word ensembles that express a rather obvious message, or a carefully hidden metaphor. And while on that stage, you must be an actor. The way you move, the way you dance, the way you carry yourself across the stage; the confidence, the beauty or the ugliness (whatever is appropriate at the time), can emphasize or downplay a performance. You get to do so much, all at once.

But I tell ya, there's nothing sexier than a girl who can sing. Nothing more beautiful than a well placed note coming from a woman's lips. It moves, no... It captivates me. In my Lifetime, I've been fortunate enough to actually know some women who can sing. My good friend Casey can sing. She doesn't very often. She's kind of shy. It's too bad, because she's absolutely amazing. She's always been beautiful, but, it's just at another level when she lets me hear her sing. My ex-girlfriend used to sing. If there's one thing I miss, it's just getting to sit around and listen to her practice singing. She'd always ask me to join in, but I rarely did. I couldn't poison the air with my off key buffoonery.

I have ANOTHER (that's right, anyone keeping a tally?!) friend who can sing. Emily Norah Engel. Oddly enough, I met her through my now estranged ex-girlfriend. Hahaha!! Emily and I, thankfully, are still good friends. Now, to all of those of you who don't have the pleasure of enjoying her nerdy, tequila Loving friendship, I'm sorry for you. BUT, you can still hear her sing!
One of the great things about Emily, is that she's also (in my humble, uninformed opinion) a pretty good guitarist. She's got a little section on Myspace where she posts some music, and I'd like to share that with all of you. I'm proud and supportive of her. I think she's an amazing talent. She doesn't bring forth lots of energy, but that's just not her style. She's got folk music in her blood. Her religion is "Blues". Still, the beauty she captures with her voice and songwriting is worth a listen. And maybe I'm saying all this rather subjectively, because afterall, she's a friend of mine. So you'll just have to listen for yourself. "Hugs and Junk" is my particular favourite. It's the first song I heard from her. It's also a very Emily thing to say. And "Final Solid", with her homemade "slide guitar". She had to explain to me what a "slide guitar" is. Not as complicated as it sounds, but still. Sounds great. "Ope". I should let you go listen now. Enjoy.

http://myspace.com/emilynorahengel

Milk

I went down to Mississauga the other day. My friend Jenn has graduated Nipissing, and is going to be pursuing graduated studies at the University of Victoria. She was having a going away party for herself.

Anyways... I got a ride down with our mutual friend Megan (who, is more Jenn's friend than mine). She's nice. A bit of a drinker, but I can't really cast judgement on that sort of thing. Hahaha!! We got to talking, about a lot of things. We talked about how she Loves to teach, and I've decided that she's going to be amazing at it based on her passion alone, let alone all the great ideas she has for running a classroom. We talked about the importance of being happy, and paying dues, and that sorta thing. We also talked about different bars, good ones and bad ones. We talked about Jenn, mostly good stuff... :D I hope Jenn reads that...

However, one of the strangest things we talked about was our Love of milk. The day after a good night of partying, we both enjoy a nice glass of milk or two. Sometimes, I don't' even wait until the next morning. People tease us, or voice concern that the milk will curdle in our stomachs once it mixes with all the gin/beer/tequila we've been indulging in. But it just doesn't bother us. But not just any milk will do...

For example. It must be cold. And as an avid milk drinker, I do everything I can to keep it cold. Some may even call me obsessed, or demented. But the difference shows. Both Megan and I discovered we share a pet peeve for people who leave milk out on the table during a meal. Those few seconds, minutes, and in some horrendous cases, hours, all can result in a noticeable increase in the temperature of the milk. Disgusting. Haha!! My sister likes to bake, and when she does, I hover around waiting for her to finish with the milk so I can rush it back to the fridge.

Now, sometimes, people are kind of enough to let me stay at their homes. If this is for an extended period of time, they also sometimes let me drink their milk. "No milk, will ever be our milk." Hehehe... Billy Madison. ANYWAYS... If all these conditions are met, I get a little weird. See, heat rises. So, the top shelf of a fridge is warmer than the lower shelves. In no instance is this more evident, than when one tries to properly chill milk. If I'm allowed to stay at your home, and drink your milk, I WILL rearrange the contents of fridge so that the milk is on the lowest possible shelf, if it is not there already. Yeah...

Now, other than coldness, I'm not picky unless I have the choice. You can have 2%, 1%, Skim (ew!) and as long as it's cold, I'll drink it. It can be any brand, carton or bag, whatever. However, if I have a choice? Beatrice, 2%, bag. There is a difference. When I was 6 years old, I tasted the difference. My dad brought home another brand of milk one day, and after I complained, he said "You wouldn't be able to tell the difference if you didn't see the bag!"

And it just hit me. Like, right now. This was my first experiment. It began early. A need to prove things, a stubbornness, to be sure, an inquisitive nature, I don't know... Nevertheless, a taste test ensued. Poor n values, but the importance of blinding the subject was evident. I used a peanut butter cookie to mask the flavour of the previous drink. Hahaha!! I was able to tell the difference between the different brands of milk. And the rest, is history.

In the Lab

So... Another resting place, is the same place I do lots of work too. Oh sweet irony... Haha!!

At the moment, I'm in the Nipissing University Neuroscience Research Unit. This is where I work, and sometimes play. Hehehe... Story time anyone?

Throughout high school, I was a fairly clever kid. Weaseled good enough marks that I could take a couple of different paths in Life. Oddly enough though, I NEVER took a biology class. Hahaha!! I believe when I was asked why I didn't take those kinds of classes my answer was that "I don't like blood." or "I don't care how our body works." Haha!! The naivety of youth. Although, I guess I'm still pretty young. Anyways, moving on.

No, I had two academic passions. Mathematics, and the mind. Now, I Love maths (that's for you Mr. Daniels, and now I'm never saying mathS again unless I'm referring to you). But it is hard. Like, bust your head against the wall practicing and manipulating an equation only to have to erase the whole thing over to try again hard. That's right. You can't use pen. So, as good of a high school math teacher I was (I tutored people a bit), I knew there was NO way I would be able to do the more extreme brands of math in order to come back to a teaching position.

So the mind. That, Lovely duality... Maybe it was all the Yoga I was doing, or my flirting with spirituality and the possibility that it's my soul thinking and not my head; but it pushed me towards psychology.

So, I graduate high school, decide to stay in the comfort and financial security of my own home, because, well "What's in an undergraduate degree? No one cares where you get THAT from.", and go to Nipissing. My sister went here too. She did some research in the biology lab (biology, eww...). Anyhow, she tells me that I should do the same thing. I might get to make some extra cash, and who knows, I could learn a thing or two.

I asked my first year lab instructor, Stephanie, if she knew a way I could get involved in research. She told me my best bet was to just outright ask a prof, and she gave me the name "Matti Saari". And she changed my Life. Or he did. Or someone did... I'M not taking responsibility for it. Haha!!

Like all doe eyed psychology students, I wanted to become a Clinical Psychologist. Not one to hide his opinion, Matti shared stories about the difficulties and challenges that faced clinicians. Implicitly, he suggested I try Neuroscience. He gave me a brief tour of the facility downstairs, and introduced me to a few people who were working at the time. Suggested I come in on the weekend when they were going to be doing some "harvesting." I didn't know what that was, but I figured anything is worth a first try, right?

Harvesting is when you take the brain out of a rat skull in order to slice it and do chemical assays later on. The fella who "doesn't like blood" was cleaning the blood off trays used to serve heads to eager students. Hahaha!! Eww... It, isn't the most enjoyable aspect of work in here... But unfortunately, a very necessary part.

If you drop by to see us working in here, it could be rather hit or miss. Like I said, this is also a place of rest. Some days, we take four hour lunch breaks, go jogging, or have a "meeting" at the bar or restaurant. Other times, we'll be here running tests, mixing chemicals, doing observations, or staining tissue in the wee hours of the night. A couple of us have had to sleep here. Hahaha!! Oddly enough, those aren't the most restful of times.

When I told our lab tech, Amy, about my blog, she suggested I write about the lab. Actually, we've always thought about having a reality show about Life in the lab. It can be, well, interesting, at times. Nevertheless, Life in the lab will definitely come up in the future. It's a huge part of my Life, both good and bad. I guess I should give you a link... http://www.nipissingu.ca/neuroscience/

This post... Lacks direction. I mean, I guess, it is just a background story. This is where I am. I think, I'll start working on another post that gives more insight on what being here has done to me. Hahaha!! Again, both good and bad. Something to do in between enrichment trials... Haha!! Also keeps me from reading or writing papers or anything else fairly productive. So, until the next trial starts... Take care.

I should have kissed her. 10 231.

http://www.xkcd.com/458/

So... xkcd is one of my favourite web comics. My friend Devon told me to look at it one day. Wait... Was it Devon or his girlfriend Caitlin. I forget. But it was one of them.

Anyways, it's a great comic. Lots of nerdy humour, but it even has some nice thoughtful messages attached as well. This one, divulges one of the latter.

Where those results come from, who knows. Stories, publications, blogs; it could be anywhere. But it's safe to say, I think, that Love is an intimidating thing, even if it isn't there; even if you're just trying it out. One little kiss. Haha!! People are always saying you'll regret Life more for things you didn't do as opposed to things you did. Perhaps these are the stats to prove it? Hahaha!!

At the very least, it's nice to know that someone is out there trying to promote a little more Love or a little more confidence in the world. Or at least, I think that's what is intended. That's what I'm taking from it.

Now, am I gonna be more adventurous and less timid? Nah, probably not. Hahaha!! But... I'm glad someone else out there wants it to happen. Let's act on Love.

And I think I'll leave it at that.

First Post

So, I used to have a blog here on http://www.blogger.com/, WAY back in the day. I didn't exactly take to it. There's a contest now at my university for "The Best Blog". So, I figured, what the heck. I'll give it a try again.

This first post is gonna have to be short, as my laptop only has 30 minutes of battery time left. GAH! It's a race against the clock!!

The title of this blog is "Notes From The Brown Lounge". The Brown Lounge is one of the places at Nipissing where students can hang out, eat, talk, study, whatever they need to do. It's the first lounge I ever sat in at Nip. It's also the one I frequent the most. A lot of good times have been had here, and a few not so good times. I'll share those eventually, I hope. I also hope a few more good times will show up too, and for dramatic purposes, even a couple of bad times.

I actually wanted to call this blog "Notes From The Brown Lounge; and Other Resting Places", because I probably won't be here for every post. But for the first one, I have GOT to be here. It's only fitting...

A lot has changed in this lounge. The most recent thing I've noticed is the staff photocopier. Hahaha!! It'll make this place a lot more busy that's for sure.

But some things don't change. You... See neat things here. Why, just today, a lady was walking up the cold stairs (people who go here hopefully will recognize which ones I'm talking about), singing. She was very good at it, but kinda seemed embarrassed as she came into the lounge and saw I was here. Hahaha!! I just smiled and tried to encourage her. After all, it's not the first time I've heard someone singing in that stairwell.

So, uh, I wrote all that above at about 9:35 AM. It turns out I had less of a time window than I expected. Hahaha!! A few hours, a lunch of baby carrots (I know, a guy who lives at home with a mom who likes to cook should eat better than that, but, that's how it goes) and a meeting with my labmates later, and I'm back. Same couch. Same lounge. Let's get this sucka posted eh? Ehh!! (does The Fonz pose) Too soon Nick... Too soon... :)