Shafia trial just tip of the iceberg

The Shafia trial generated a lot of media fanfare and created awareness about an important issue. But make no mistake. While this particular case was extreme and has been sensationalized, this was not an isolated incident. 

The bigger problem is that immigrant families with conservative cultural backgrounds almost always clash with values taken for granted in Canadian society. The magnitude of this problem is huge: it spans a remarkably diverse range of cultures, geographic origins, and religious backgrounds. Yet it is so rarely talked about, particularly within the immigrant communities themselves, where it matters the most. As a result, these problems generally don't manifest themselves in the public forum. I'm glad the Shafia trial brought this bigger issue out in the open. The establishment is often reluctant to discuss it, afraid that criticizing the cultural values of others would come off as bigoted or racist; more often than not, the establishment is also just clueless as to what they're dealing with, since they have never lived through the experiences themselves.

The victims are always the second-generation immigrants: those who grow up in Canada struggling between two identities - between their commitment to their family heritage and their desire to conform to the Canadian mainstream.

And while this will rarely result in murder, cases of depression, physical, and verbal abuse are all too common. More often than not, young women get the worst of it.

We need a way to set reasonable expectations to those parents with young children who are arriving in this country as immigrants. We need to let them know, that yes, their kids will wear more flashy clothes. Yes they will want to date when they grow older. Yes, their partners might be from a different race. Yes, they might want to study liberal arts rather than become a doctor. Yes, they might want to go out with their friends at night. Yes, they might want to have sex before marriage. And yes, they might even want to give up their religion. 

They need to be mentally prepared for this kind of stuff so it's not such a shock to their systems when they find out that this is the reality.

These parents need to be aware of the struggles that their kids will face in a world caught between two cultures, two worlds, two paradigms. In an ideal world, they should act as a positive influence during this transition for their children, not a cause for its problems. Forcing their traditional values down their kids' throats will not work. It's bad for the family, bad for their children, bad for the community, and bad for Canadian society. 

G20 chaos from street level in Toronto

I took some time today after the wonderful Ghana vs. USA match to walk out to the chaotic street scene in downtown Toronto just south of here, where the G20 summit is taking place. You'd think it's against conventional wisdom to venture out when reports on tv say that riots have broke out and protesters have gone nuts. But I figured I'm not going to be this close to an event like this for another ten, twenty years. Plus I thought the media was a little incompetent in broadcasting this whole issue and wanted to see first hand what was really going on. So why not?

I first went down to City Hall at just past 5pm. Amazingly, it was extremely calm at Nathan Phillips Square. A bunch of backpackers taking pictures around the Winston Churchill statue, where a pigeon stood on his head, banners of Toronto's Jazz Festival still in full swing, the only black smoke coming out of a nearby hot dog stand, where people who look like newcomers to Canada stand around going about what looks like daily gossip. Nothing unusual. 

Photo-op with The Broken Starbucks Window.

I proceed south to Queen and Bay. There was a large group gathered at the Old City Hall on-looking action to the south - some protesters wearing bandannas were taking a break from a day of yelling with their signs to their sides. I walk across a Queen Street almost completely devoid of traffic, onto the corner Starbucks and TD, which has one of its window smashed to pieces - the same one that just appeared on CBC, who have their news vans parked next door. People were curious to take a picture with this new landmark. 

Down Bay St. was where all the action is. As I walk south, people are increasing in numbers. Most with cameras handy snapping at the crowds in front of them (even saw an iPhone 4), some recording footage of the event which will, I'm sure, gradually make its way onto YouTube. The famous Bay St. of Toronto, normally bustling with daily traffic and businesspeople, was now filled with a hot, tense air and thousands of mobile bodies gradually merging into a large crowd; you can't tell who is there to protest and who is there to just to check out what's happening. 

At Bay and Adelaide, near where I work, I witnessed the first big crowd of the day, and the first police barricade of my life. As I sneak up to the frontlines, I manage to catch a glimpse of a middle-aged white guy yelling at the motionless Police in front of him. "How long do you think we're gonna take this shit??" He yelled hysterically while trancing around like a voodoo artist, "A new fuckin' world order is here! Wake up people, a new fuckin' world order!" The crowd remains largely silent, but are duly entertained. Some egg him on.

The police wall stretches across the width of Bay St both north and south of Adelaide, blocking off access to the intersection. A large police security truck is in the middle - maybe that's what they were trying to protect. The officers were clad in heavy gear from head to toe, including the usual riot gear consisting of baton, shield, and large masks which make seeing the faces of individual officers impossible. On this day, they have no identity. 

Suddenly, the police pull up their batons in unison. The crowd reacted. Some people begin dashing away from the intersection, thinking that they were about to make a move against the protesters. Others openly speculate on the reason for this latest manoever. Miraculously, the police wall begins pulling back in unison along with the security truck. Protesters chant as if this is some kind of victory. 

The mobile barricade now crawled slowly towards Bay and King, near Commerce Court. This stretch of Bay St, the pulsating heart of Canada's financial industry, suffered the most damage from the hooligans of the day; smashed windows are visible on both sides of the street. Some people are making calls over their cellphones, others continue to snap pictures. While I tweet my updates I unknowingly walk into freshly broken glass as the chants in front of me begin to simmer. 

"...What does democracy look like?"
"This is what democracy looks like!"
"...What does democracy feel like?"
"This is what democracy feels like!"

Protesters shout while motioning towards the police barricade. I thought this particular slogan was kind of lame. Not gonna lie, it sort of reminded me of frosh week. 

Flags were flying at the intersection - mostly those of First Nations, Palestine, and what looked like Communism. I smell marijuana, but can't seem to locate the source. More chants ensue. 

"One-two-three-four, we won't take this shit no more! Five-six-seven-eight, organize and retaliate!" Several protest leaders shout the first part into their megaphone, and the crowd gives the follow-up. Four of five repetitions later, the contagion spreads... even some of the more 'innocent'-looking bystanders chime in on it. At the Trump Tower, currently under construction, young men leap up onto barrels to get a better glimpse of the situation. A couple of dejected Palestinian protesters sit on the side of the street to take a drink and talk about what to do next. The slogans then slowly descend into inaudible noise, before another round begins. 

Police barricade on Saturday at Bay and King.

BMO seems to have suffered the most damage. Windows that were shattered earlier in the day were already encased in wooden boards to block protesters from entering the building. Anarchist slogans were painted on walls. At the corner of Bay and King, police finally take a breather as the some protesters begin to disperse. Behind the barricade, a makeshift refreshment station was set up for officers to take off their masks, feel a bit of fresh air, and take a drink. A hysterical middle-aged guy, probably a protester, poses in front of the cops while giving the middle finger. Next to him, a young Asian girl smiles on this up-close-and-personal photo-op with police while her boyfriend snaps the moment. Several other backpackers follow suit. Guess they weren't here to protest after all.

As I walked back to my temporary residence a couple of blocks north, I reflected on the day's events. I set out to get a real look at the events of today, but also wanted to find out what people were actually protesting about. This question still begged answers. There does not seem to be any kind of cohesion or unity amongst each of the protest groups. Some protest for maternal rights, others for a free Palestine, others hold up union signs, and others still just want to wreak havoc wherever they could while they have the media's attention.

All the while when windows were smashed, people were injured, and police cars were burned, the real decision makers of this world, without batting an eyelid, are either going about hashing out the world's economic direction just a couple of blocks down, or sipping their cocktails at a resort in the Bahamas while planning when to next cash in on the stock options; while the average person watches the event unfold on the news ticker, dismissing it as a bunch of rowdy, hot-blooded hippies who are up to no good, go right back to watching today's World Cup highlights; while the immigrant downtown store-owner laments the damages to his all too new enterprise, wondering where to go next; and the female police officer will go home tonight, put her kids to sleep, and try to reassure her family that she will be okay, even though she knows there will be more stress ahead on the next shift in her ironclad gear beneath the boiling sun.

At the end of the day, what's the point?

World Cup 2010 Predictions

World Cup fever is here again. It's hard to imagine that it's already been four years since that fateful Zidane headbutt that shocked the world in Germany 2006.

I haven't followed pro soccer (or football, rather, for the real fans) much in the last few years, much to my regret. My name recognition for the 32 squads is painfully disappointing. But all the more excitement for making the predictions for this, the greatest and most watched tournament on Earth. 

So here we go:

Group rounds, in order of group ranking

Group A

1. Mexico

2. France

3. Uruguay

4. South Africa

Group B

1. Argentina

2. Nigeria

3. Greece

4. Korea Republic

Group C

1. England

2. United States

3. Slovenia

4. Algeria

Group D

1. Germany

2. Ghana

3. Serbia

4. Australia

Group E

1. Netherlands

2. Cameroon

3. Denmark

4. Japan

Group F

1. Italy

2. Paraguay

3. Slovakia

4. New Zealand

Group G

1. Brazil

2. Portugal

3. Cote d'Ivoire

4. Korea DPR

Group H

1. Spain

2. Chile

3. Honduras

4. Switzerland

Final Four (in order of finish):

1. Brazil

2. Spain

3. Italy

4. Argentina

You will notice these rankings were relatively conservative; for example, I predict that all the first-seeds in every group will have a first-place finish. I'm actually hoping that this won't be the case this time around. In 2006, this happened for 6 out of 8 groups - a result which indicates that even though these are supposed to be the 32 best teams on earth, traditional powers have become increasingly resilient at holding their place at the world stage. It will be exciting to see which one of the "non-traditional" powers, particularly an African team or Australia, make it far. 

South Africa 2010, here we come. 

Racism in Canadian Schools

Recently I've come across the following stories on The National Post:

http://www.nationalpost.com/news/story.html?id=2740807

http://www.nationalpost.com/news/story.html?id=2732314

Read it before listening to my rant.

Canadian Universities are welcoming institutions. Having recently travelled three continents I can tell you that the cultural environment here is much, much better than many other places in this world.

A brown guy at Trent complained that he was the "only brown person in class" and therefore he felt excluded. As if we have a duty to accommodate by artificially modifying the racial make-up of classes to make certain groups feel more welcomed. At Queen's people complain about 'white privilege', going as far as to say permeated the "walls, books classrooms and everything that makes Queen's what it is." Oh, what bullshit. It seems whoever said this is confusing suburban upper class snobbery with white racial supremacy.

The solution to racism is this: First, we need to talk about it more openly. Second, we need to be less politically correct about everything we say. Beating around the bush makes everyone feel more uncomfortable - white people and minorities. Interracial dialogue about racism is crucial. Racism happens most frequently in intra-racial circles.

Third, educate people. People are prejudiced because they lack inter-cultural understanding, lack global perspective, lack real experiences with other cultural groups, not because there is inherent bigotry inside every living soul.

Fourth, and most importantly, we need to make a big distinction between incompatible cultural attitudes and racism. Separate them, separate them, separate them. Racism is when you hate a black person because they are black, which is wrong. Cultural incompatibility is the rationalized reasoning that certain practices and social behavior between one cultural group and another simply do not mix, and that you are uncomfortable with this cultural difference. This is perfectly understandable and there is nothing wrong with it. It simply happens because we are used to certain norms and practices by the way we have been brought up.

I, for example, am very uncomfortable that a number of cultures (and religions) continue to preach against interracial (or intercultural) dating and marriage, because this brings about racial clustering in big urban centres and a lack of integration. I will say this because I believe there is a detriment to society as a whole because of de facto racially segregating practices from certain groups, and believe that these practices contravene very basic Canadian values of inclusivity and multiculturalism. After all, to be inclusive doesn't just mean white people have to be more tolerant of minority groups. It means that everyone has to be more tolerant towards everyone. Groups that immigrate to Canada, in my view, should let go of their cultural baggage and settle here with a reasonably liberal and open mindset about other cultures. Most importantly, they should not force values that outright conflict with the majority of Canadian society, such as deliberate in-group preaching of intra-racial marriage, to their Canadian offspring. This hurts our country and hurts the children of minority groups, who grow up struggling to define their identity.

Canadian universities are some of the most inclusive institutions in the world. Universities are not racist; people are racist. And the less open we are about racism, the more racist society becomes. Let's talk about it openly first before coming up with these wildly hyperbolic statements, or banning sumo suits at Queen's.

Going to Paris

Due to my chronic procrastination I have been unable to muster the energy to write full blogs on my very eventful journeys around the Netherlands.

Within the past few weeks I have been to three Dutch cities - one per weekend. Due to the ease of transportation, I just hop on a train with some friends on a Saturday morning, travel to my destination within the hour, and come back at a reasonable time in the evening to Rotterdam. So far I've had the pleasure of visiting Amsterdam, Utrecht, and the Hague.

Of these, my favourite was probably Utrecht - which is the least well-known of the three. Upon my arrival in this historic Dutch city, I felt a very heavy air of culture. The canals in the city centre seemed more aesthetically pleasing than those of Amsterdam, and the streets have a very unique, historical flavour, as if they were stuck in some sort of 16th Century time-warp.

Amsterdam was very eventful. A simple blog entry probably wouldn't do it justice. And I know I will probably be back again sometime soon so I guess I will write about it then...

My next destination is Paris. I will depart from Rotterdam tomorrow morning. I cannot begin to describe in words my excitement for this trip. I will then head to Brussels on Monday, and return to Rotterdam later that night.

The Netherlands: The First Weekend

There's about a week's worth of lag on the date of these blogs due to my habitual procrastination.

I settled into the hostel on Wednesday evening, having lost track of time.

Thursday morning, I woke up bright and early to participate in Orientation activities with other exchange students here at Rotterdam School of Management. We all met in the "T" building and listened to the regular pep-talk by the exchange coordinator, after which we assembled in the gym for introductory activities. We had two acrobats coming to teach us exercises and we also had a "conflict management" guy trying to make us play games such as "Place yourself on the Map".

Thursday night was spent in Dordrect, at a hostel about half an hour away from Rotterdam by bus. There was an "international cabaret" on that night where representatives from each country put up a show of some sort for entertainment. The Nordic countries gave a pop quiz to start off the night, Germany talked about everything they'd invented, and the United States demonstrated a game of beer pong. As part of the Canadian group we sang O Canada, recited some facts about Canada, and taught people some Quebec French.

Being in a place of relative isolation, we decided to hike on Friday afternoon because we were located in a Dutch national park of some sort. Apparently some beavers inhabited the area and were building dams. How Canadian. It was disappointing that we didn't actually see any beavers. Only wood carvings and museum displays. That night I got the first taste of Dutch nightlife. We went out to a bar after dinner at a Mexican restaurant, drank Tequila shots and copious amounts of beer, and danced the night away.

We went exploring Rotterdam on the weekend. The city has quite its unique charm. Many of its landmark buildings were destroyed during World War II and modern skyscrapers appeared on our path at random intervals. With its criss-crossing trams, bicycles, small European cars, and confusing street layout, navigating the city was not an easy task. We visited such landmarks as the EuroMast tower and went around the Central area for drinks.

The Netherlands: Arrival

I've neglected to do this for much too long. Holland has consumed me for over a week and only now can I sit down and write a blog.

I departed Saskatoon on August 25. Flying through Toronto and then Reykjavik, Iceland, on Icelandair, I arrived in Amsterdam just past noon on August 26 local time. The entire process took me around 14 hours. Arriving early in the day after having not slept is very detrimental to your biological clock.

Arriving at the airport in Amsterdam, I realized that all the signs were in English. Going through customs with my two extremely large bags, I was asked only a few superficial questions before being allowed to pass through.

My first purchase of goods using Euro was a Burger King meal at the airport. Sleep-deprived and alone, I hauled my luggage to the railway platform for the incoming train to Rotterdam. I was told to not take the luggage carts onto the train platform. Of course, I asked for directions no less than three times just to make sure I was going the right way.

As the train sped off from the underground station at the airport, the scenery on a beautiful afternoon in Holland gradually began enveloping me. This is the part of the trip where your mind is not quite sure where you are. So this is Europe? After all, I had just spent the last four months on the Canadian prairies.

I started to notice all the differences. Some not so obvious, but some jumped out at me. First it was the small vehicles, with their shiny yellow Euro license plates. Here, there are no SUVs, no big trucks. The European brands began screaming at me as the train zoomed past city streets and suburban buildings. And then, once in a while, a windmill would pass right by. My eyes would instinctively follow these medieval-looking structures - seemingly out of place in the modern urban cityscape. Then I realize - this is the Netherlands.

The train ride to Rotterdam, the country's second-largest city, only took about 45 minutes, passing through two other Dutch cities - The Hague and Leiden. It takes longer for a Torontonian to go to work than for me to zoom through four large Dutch cities.

I stepped out of the train station from a underground tunnel into a beehive of activity. Construction on a nearby building was just in the groundbreaking stages. All kinds of people crisscrossed the businesses outside of the station, some headed in a particular direction, some just loitering around. Street graffiti was also visible in random places. Signs were in Dutch. I came out of Central Station in Rotterdam completely blind, looking like a dumb tourist constantly turning my head. With a hostel address I hastily pulled from my laptop and a local information booth nearby, I tried asking people directions so I can plan my path from point A to B. It turns out the hostel had moved locations in the last few months. Looking around, I spotted a booth selling SIM cards for cell phones. The guy tells me that its 2 SIMs for 5 Euro. Deal. Bought it, slid it in my phone, and then called the hostel directly to get directions.

After some more struggling with luggage and arranging for a taxi a few streets over, I show the driver the directions on a ripped piece of paper with the address of the hostel. He didn't speak too much English; he took me in circles on the confusing city streets and then informed me that the address was not accessible by road. We went a total distance of less than 1 kilometer. 8 Euros later it was more luggage pulling and randomly inquiring passersby where the hell I was going, and if they knew of a hostel. I was getting little luck with the directions.

Luckily for me, the hostel was situated right in the Cube Houses of Rotterdam - apparently a tourist attraction. Basically there were these cubes tilted diagonally and somehow standing upright in the midst of a busy city intersection underneath. After about half an hour of dragging around luggage, I duly navigated several sets of stairs to finally discover my hostel - orange in colour and populated by students like myself.

It was time for some rest. Local time: just past 4.30 PM.

Derren Brown Chess Explained

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evZmpsl3jI0&feature=related

First, watch this video. It is a modern TV illusion by British illusionist Darren Brown where he beats 9 world-class chess players simultaneously.

Magic is usually very disappointing if you find out how it is done. Therefore, if you are a going to a magic show, or watching some magic on TV, the best thing is to never question it and believe that it is simply, well, magic. Same goes for fortune tellers. Just believe what they tell you.

At this point I must give you a spoiler alert when you find that really, there was only one thing behind this trick, and that is, misdirection. Misdirection, amongst all else, is the most basic principle of magic.

What is the most important in understanding Derren Brown's 'feat' here is that there is no feat at all. In fact, what is most amazing about this trick is not the fact that he beat the ninth player, or the fact that he predicted the number of pieces left on the table. The most amazing part of this trick, is that in reality, he misdirected the TV audience, i.e., YOU, not the chess players.

So there are two mysteries by the end of the trick where he leaves the audience wondering.
1. How did he beat Robert Chan?
2. How did he predict the number of pieces left on the table?

It's simple. The trick that he explained at the end of the show, i.e., "mirror chess", is not actually his own doing. In fact, the entire time he spends explaining how he does the trick, he is misleading the audience into thinking that the centrality of his illusion is a memory feat, i.e., a human trait.

The chess mirroring technique is over 25 years old, if not older. There is nothing new here. But because he misleads the audience into thinking that he is doing it by memory, it adds to his charisma and his apparently above-average abilities, in memorization, if not in chess.

Although pairing definitely took place, Brown used no memory work. Each of the moves were being fed to him by a control who is monitoring the game through an earpiece. All he had to do is ensure that he heard the moves correctly and hid the earpiece effectively.

Robert Chan is genuinely the weakest player of the nine. He has a vague title, and definitely looks a little awkward. Immediately you are misled into believing that Brown actually defeated this player. Notice when Chan says "[Derren] has the level of play of a grandmaster". Whoever Robert Chan may have been, Brown defeated him through the same ear feed, except using a computer program, who is paired with Chan in the show's control room.

Finally. The number of pieces? That's simple. He is fed the numbers, again, through the earpiece. Then it's all in the hands. Magicians are good at this. Watch the entire sequence where Graham Lee and Brown open the numbers in the envelope and watch Brown's movements.

So to sum up, where was the REAL trick?

1. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking the cameras were used for TV, not for controlling each of the games.
2. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking he has superb memory abilities, neglecting the possibility of an earpiece.
3. You are misled into thinking the central aspect of his trick is the mirror chess, when really his 'explanation' at the end is a rather minor aspect of the trick.
4. His 'mistake' in the first number '6' was deliberate. This is to demonstrate that he is 'human' and further mislead you into believing that the entire feat is achieved through memory.

There you have it. Magic explained just isn't worth it.

So please don't believe what I wrote here. And I don't claim credit for coming up with this explanation. The real brilliance lies with Derren himself.

Month of Tragedy

The chain of sudden tragedies seem to be continuing.

It all started with the absolutely shocking death of our classmate Simon on June 2 at age 19, a piece of news we duly received in the e-mail, and the oh-so mysterious Air France crash whose causes still seem indeterminable; and then came Luo Jing, my favourite childhood news anchor and somewhat of a legend, at age 47. Then, unnervingly close to where I work, three teens from the local High School who died in a single-vehicle crash, followed by deaths of international sex icon Farrah Fawcett and pop-king Michael Jackson, both within the past 24 hours. This also occured in combination with the death of Romeo Leblanc, Canada's former governor general, who died yesterday to natural causes. Now, fittingly, most flags across Canada are at half-mast.

Today, while filling up for gas at the SuperStore gas bar, the lady at the counter didn't even greet me. All she mustered was, "So tragic". I didn't reply.

A Fragile Thing

Today is like any other ordinary day in Yorkton. It's the middle of the week. As traffic meanders its way through the city's main street, a professionally dressed lady, wearing a black purse, enters the TD bank on the corner; engines of a beat-up Chevy from the 70s roar to life, its driver taking out sunglasses to prepare for the drive; three women from three generations, all blonde, stroll home on the sidewalk - the grandmother giving me a strange glance.

I don't know whether or not I should be thankful that in the last few days it's been hitting 30 degrees - quite the contrast from merely a week ago, when I still walked around town in my heavy leather jacket. Barely off work, in the blazing sun, I walk around four city blocks searching frantically for the used bookstore that I longed for. I walked back and forth, the same route twice, to no avail. I enter a pawn shop, for the first time in recent memory. In the midst of used computer monitors, used DVDs, and stacks of miscellaneous mechanical objects with handwritten tags, I hit the counter, where two ladies are waiting, presumably to claim something they've previously pawned. I tried searching for the owner. Maybe he has an idea of where this used bookstore is.

I came upon two venerable old gentlemen. One was heavily wrinkled and had some difficulty walking, making me question whether or not I should approach him. I did anyway. I tried to be as succinct as possible in my pronunciation, asking for directions to the nearest used bookstore, knowing there was only one of these in town. He replies, "You'd have to go ask Dale" and wandered off.

With the city's demographic profile dominated by Aboriginals and Ukrainians, I still have thoughts once in a while, of whether or not they think it's strange this professionally dressed Chinese boy just approached them without a trace of an accent. Did I look out of place within the crammed towers of pawned goods? Seemed pretty likely.

I then came up to "Dale", who was a lot more helpful in my inquiry. He actually went over to the cashier's desk to find a phone book, and was able to point to me the exact location of this would-be used bookstore. Ah! That's where it is. On 2nd, where I've been looking constantly on the wrong side of the road. Alarmed by my own ineptitude, I trek onto 2nd Avenue to pick up some thrillers from my favourite author.

As I turn the corner I noticed two teenagers in black dress attire coming down the sidewalk. They looked in their mid-teens. I walked past them, only to see a girl in her black dress with her boyfriend, also dressed as if for some occasion, heading towards their vehicle.

Then it hit me. Today was the funeral for three local boys killed in a single-vehicle car crash this past weekend. This theory was confirmed when I saw an old Ford drive by, windows open, with a girl, clad in a black dress, wet with tears from weeping, trying to form a coherent sentence to whoever was in the driver's seat.

Initially, it felt to me that this sunny afternoon in Yorkton has just wrapped itself in a gray haze of mourning. But then I recalled the two boys who I just saw, strutting down 2nd Avenue in the sun, with the accident scene only blocks away, discussing something that made them chuckle.

Apparently, not everyone is so caught up in tears.

This made me wonder about how the accident is being perceived. While no one can doubt that the event - in which three teens drove themselves at a high speed into a tree - was very tragic, I couldn't help but think that this event would be forgotten merely months from now, and we see the same tragedy playing all over again. Anyone with personal connections to the boys, reasonably, has let grief override any rational analysis of how the accident could have been, so easily prevented.

Once the tears are shed, and eulogies delivered, and people slowly walk out of the local church tonight, a community whose heart and soul seemed shattered a mere five days ago will return to the day-in and day-out business of everyday life. Years from now, will people still remember?

Every month?

I've tried to make it a habit to post at least one entry every month. Guess that wasn't as successful. Recently I've been itching to write about a few things, like the 20th Anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, the fragile state of life (having had a classmate pass away suddenly in early June), and the Air France 447 crash.

But it's getting late and work awaits tomorrow. So sleep is needed.

The Susan Boyle Effect

If you haven't seen it yet, you should. As of the afternoon of April 16, the video of Susan Boyle's performance on Britain's Got Talent on YouTube has garnered over 12.3 million views, growing by the second. It's been five days since it happened.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Embedding on this video is disabled. The views just keep climbing. I have seen it now posted over and over again in my Facebook news feed and threads. 

But why?

Surely, she is an underdog. Crowds love cheering on the underdog, as a matter of psychology. But what's more, is that everyone doubted her upon seeing her walk onto the stage, and she overcame all expectations. Through listening to her, people overturned their own biases and judgments. People gave themselves a slap on the face.

Her confidence was striking. 47, unemployed, and living with her cat, she did not show a tinge of insecurity when revealing that she's never been married, or kissed. She gladly revealed her age and her aspirations, as if certain of the outcome.  Then, after her performance, she was ready to walk off the stage as if unaware of the deliberation process.

I wonder if the make-up laden girl who so prominently sneered at her can exuberate the same type of confidence when she returns to her clique of peers in Junior High.

But this entire phenomenon now begs a very important question. 

Susan Boyle won the heart of the world because she was allowed to sing. She was allowed the opportunity to perform and show her talent. 

In the real world, how many times is this opportunity denied to people? How many similar underdogs in society get denied a spot on the football team, misses out on a job offer, can't get into medical school, or get refused service, purely because of superficial judgments, and are never given the opportunity to try and prove themselves? 

There are millions more of Susan Boyle's out there, waiting to be discovered. The question is, will society let them be discovered, or will they continue to succumb under the veneer of superficiality that has always guided human judgment? 

Now that you've seen the video, your guess is as good as mine.

March Madness

March is a terrible time of the year.

In the Commerce Program here at Queen's, this is when all the professors pile up a bunch of assignments, quizzes, and presentations.

This is also when March Hiring for COMSOC positions occur.

I've been caught up in the middle of it all.

Last night I conducted interviews for SIFE for about eight hours for our executive next year. While the last interview concluded at 12:30, the deliberations easily took us to 3AM.

One of the most valuable parts of being on the other side of the interview process is that you get to really learn what goes on in the mind of the interviewer. What kind of things do you look for in a resume, for example? What stands out about the candidates that succeed, and what prompts failure? What goes on inside the room during deliberations?

Now off to do a history essay. It'll take a large chunk of the next two days.

Earl Grey Tea

I hereby offer some tips to those who want to find spots in the library during Midterms.

1. Wake up early. Even at 9:30AM, there are still sufficient open spaces.
   
2. There are more places to go than just Stauffer.
3. If you see a bunch of people going upstairs, to potentially the same floor you're going to, use the elevator. It gives you an edge in this competitive world where demand for library seats always exceed supply (this is, however, a rather seasonal trend).
   
4. Have an Earl Grey tea by your side at all times.

Tea is really good for you. It gives you something meaningful to do while you study a subject like propensity to unionize. And it keeps you awake, and is less harmful than coffee. A bit of milk and sugar is good. This is slightly revolting against the Chinese side of my culture, where it's blasphemous to drink green tea with anything but the tea itself. But in Mongolian culture, milk tea is a typical morning drink. The ingredients are different though. And where I come from it's a nomadic, rather than an elitist Victorian tradition. Mongolian fighters drank milk tea before they went to battle.

That reminds me, I always double-cup my cups. This is part of a habit I developed working at McDonald's. Because McD's doesn't have these heat pads around the cup, so to avoid burning someone's hand, you always have to double cup hot beverages for customers. For some reason, I now do this for not only hot beverages, but for the cold ones as well. It can be a good habit when you fill half of your cup with ice. It gives the beverage more support.

But that gives me another dilemma. It's awkward chewing ice in the library. You're always wondering if you're annoying the people next to you. But cracking and grinding ice with your teeth can be sufficiently helpful when you're experiencing writer's block.

Happy studying.

P.S. Why can't we learn something useful in HR, like job design? Employee motivation? Managerial strategies?

Sifting Through a Global Microcosm

Toronto never fails to disappoint.

This bustling Canadian metropolis of over five million people (in the GTA, that is) is apparently home to more cultures than there are countries in the world. There's a vibrant Uruguayan and Ghanaian community here, and you don't even have to look that hard.

This weekend we were here for DECA, a business competition that I have only familiarized myself with very recently. Aside from our fashionably late punctuality, there were a few things that really stood out. For one, the entire conference was pretty much Brown or Asian. A white person is definitely an anomaly here.

In that sense, Toronto was an escape to a global microcosm, a journey that transcends national and cultural barriers, sifting through a demographic mosaic that works wonders if you only looked around.

The weekend was also a chance to go revisit the Korean barbecue restaurant that I visited less than a year ago. Carcinogens aside, it was one of the most fulfilling experiences one could ever desire. Remember to order kim-chi.

And of course, Kareoke. A place in Chinatown that in every way resembles the China that I left only a few months ago. We were in Suite 7. That's lucky only by Western Standards. I sang to such patriotic songs as 走进新时代 (Into a New Era) by Zhang Ye, songs that defined pop culture like 不得不爱 (Have to Love) by Wilber Pan, and classic western hits like "This Love" by Maroon 5. Quite a range.

On the way there I tried to read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, it was a slightly nauseating experience (even now when I think about it) reading on a bus.

DECA U was held at the Sheraton hotel downtown, where you can get lost in the mismatch of elevators for 20 minutes before you arrive at your destination. Our room had a prominent view of Toronto City Hall as well as the skating rink nearby. Steven says this is a prime location for partying on New Years for Torontonians. I am inclined to make a case for the Travelodge on Circle Drive in Saskatoon. But that is a whole other story.

Obamamania

Often I've tried to make sense out of Obamamania. I have to admit that I was very skeptical from the man from as early as 2007. Early on I predicted that it was impossible for Obama to defeat the campaign machine of Hillary Clinton. But then as the race went on, he became more intriguing. Then over the holiday break, I decided to read his The Audacity of Hope while lounging on the beaches of Barbados. And it was a great read.

When he got elected president in early November, I sat in my bedroom watching CNN.com LIVE on my laptop, and the speech he delivered was enough to send goosebumps crawling on my back. This guy seemed to have everything. The confidence he projected and the method of his delivery was, in the very least, inspirational. As I proceeded to Common Grounds here on campus to watch him deliver a historic inaugural address - the expectations were immense. By the time we got there the entire place was filled with students watching a huge TV screen - so many people were there that Yiran and I had to find a spot on the floor.

The speech itself was good. It tried to cater to almost every party, I felt, and therefore did not feel as forceful as some of his earlier renditions. Perhaps it was just the time of the day, the imagery he left (with this constant mention of words related to ice and winter), and the ongoing recession. I left Common Ground heading towards Goodes, not knowing whether to be disappointed or to get rid of my undying need to be skeptical.

Last night on the VGOC thread I got a link to a site that alledges Obama uses hypnotic techniques to win his voters. Being extremely interested in the power of our subconscious, I tried to skim the hundred-page document, picking up on things that caught my eye. In the document Obama's detractors allege that the way he delivers his speeches and his hand gestures are done in such a way to hypnotise the live audience and the crowd sitting in front of the TV watching him. It makes reference to his forefinger-thumb gesture and alleges that it is an allusion to picking up the pen on voting day. The evidence was shaky and was not entirely convincing (and even if it was, mind you, people are too crazy about Obama to care), but it was noteworthy. There are definitely some things about Obama that subconsciously sets him apart from all other presidents or politicians in living memory - things that we may not even realize. But is he intentionally deceiving voters? Not very likely. But the amount of positive press, the sheer degree of irrational fandom that this man has aroused is not something that runs parallel to his credentials, experience, or intended policies. It is, by and large, the result of his charisma, personality, and intelligent political differentiation.

Conservative editorials attempted, in vain, to criticize Obama's inaugural speech as lacking in content. Perhaps. They allege that he uses broad themes in his speeches so that the listener can gather whatever imagery they choose, which goes on to enhance their perception that Obama is heroic and correct. While there is partial truth to these criticisms, I think these things are fundamental to politics as a practice. Obama is just better at doing it than everyone else.