One of the clients that I work for, Champlain College Saint-Lambert, recently posted the following notice on their blog (emphasis added):
Champlain College Saint-Lambert will become a smoke and tobacco-free campus for all for employees, students, and visitors effective July 1st 2017.
The use of all tobacco products is prohibited on campus properties, both indoor and outdoor, of the College including all buildings and grounds owned by the College. This policy applies to the parking lot as well as the front and side walkways. Tobacco is defined as any type of tobacco product including, but not limited to cigarettes, cigars, cigarillos, electronic cigarettes, smokeless or spit tobacco or snuff.
For those who are interested in stopping their use of tobacco products please contact Health Services (students) or the local HR department (faculty and staff) for a list of resources and programs.
My first reaction was “wow, talk about an aggressive stance.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I totally understand the overall opposition to smoking. (Once you learn about the negative health impact of smoking tobacco, it’s kind of hard to defend it.) I can therefore appreciate the idea of a green, smoke-free campus. I can even commend Champlain for mentioning how people could get help in quitting their habit, right there in the post. However, I still felt there was a certain harshness in the announcement, particularly surrounding the “including all buildings and grounds owned” bit, and how that would play out in the real world considering Champlain’s specific campus design.
Put simply, the layout was such that smokers would be forced to go to the park next door, or across the street in front of the college, to indulge in their habit. The two other sides of the college were too impractical – one faced the highway and had a fence barrier, meaning people were always on college grounds, and the other was a large parking lot. Technically, you could walk completely across the parking lot to go smoke, but this was pointless when you could simply walk to the park next door, or across the street.
Keep in mind, before Champlain’s announcement, in Quebec, it was still forbidden by law to “smok[e] within a nine-metre radius of a door, window or external air intake of a public or private building.” Nine meters, in my opinion, seemed like a pretty good deal. It was the complete ban of smoking on the campus grounds that seemed excessive, especially given Champlain’s layout. While this may seem like a minor issue, consider the meteorological realities of Quebec. In the winter, this would mean getting dressed and going for a walk specifically to smoke. Winter temperatures would make this journey an uncomfortable affair.
Of course, discomfort is likely the intention… don’t like the inconvenience? Stop smoking. But what I’m saying is this: don’t these people still deserve respect, despite their habit? Are they so disgusting and vile that 9 meters couldn’t possibly be acceptable?
2.1. Smoking is prohibited (3) on grounds placed at the disposal of an educational institution governed by the Education Act (chapter I-13.3), the Education Act for Cree, Inuit and Naskapi Native Persons (chapter I-14) or the Act respecting private education (chapter E-9.1) and providing preschool education services, elementary and secondary school instructional services, educational services in vocational training or educational services to adults in general education;
I never realized exactly how aggressive the anti-tobacco laws were in Quebec. Further googling revealed a page by the Quebec government in which they reveal the actions they took towards controlling tobacco use, chronologically. For 2017, here’s what they wrote (emphasis added):
Health and social services establishments and post-secondary institutions must have adopted a policy for creating a smoke-free environment no later than November 26.
So again, Champlain was simply putting in place the needed policies to be in full compliance with the law. And yes, these policies meant people would be displaced somewhat when smoking, but this would likely be the same at other institutions, also forced to comply with these new rules. I still feel there’s something to be said here about respecting people’s choices, as unhealthy as they might be, without resorting to extreme measures. The 9 meter rule seemed reasonable to me, as a way of minimizing second hand smoke; the Quebec government, however, took it to another level. But I guess the logic on the part of legislators is likely that the significance of the health threat justifies this type of a response. Does it, though? I’ll keep pondering this… feel free to let me know what you think.
So it was the day of my final exam in Law & Society, and there were only a few mins left before I’d have to leave. And yet, casually, I launched Rust on my computer, logged into a server, and stepped away from my machine while the world loaded. As I was cleaning my apartment to pass the time, I noticed in the distance that the game had finished loading. In Rust, when you connect to a server for the first time, you’re placed in a random location, and you have a first person view of your character laying on his side, just having woken up. When you join the world in this manner, you’re known as a “naked” by the community. This, as you might expect, is because you’re completely nude when you first appear in the world, with only a rock and a torch in your inventory.
Despite noticing that the game was ready to be played at a mere keystroke, I continued working on my apartment. At a certain point, through my speakers, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone building a wooden structure in my vicinity. Intrigued, I wrapped up what I was doing, sat at my computer, and left-clicked to make my character wake from his slumber. I looked around for the source, and in the distance, I could see a partially-clothed male looking in my general direction. I could also faintly hear his voice, but not enough to fully understand what he was saying. As I approached, swimming across a stream to reach him, I heard him ask, more clearly, “are you friendly?“
This question was somewhat uncommon, in my experience. In Rust, typically, whenever you make contact with another player, you’re usually attacked immediately. There’s just something about the world of Rust that makes people murder each other on sight, without hesitation. Based on my specific experience, I’d say this occurs about in about 90% of player encounters. Yet, I’m totally not the type of dude that indulges in violence by default. In fact, I’m usually the one that states I’m friendly immediately upon seeing another player, rather than attacking. I’ve always had this angle of non-violence, opting instead to heal, or to simply abstain from combat where healing wasn’t an option.
So the fact that this player would actually ask if I’m friendly, that, was refreshing. I of course stated that I was friendly, and as I got closer to him, I could hear his voice better, I could tell he was likely an 11-year old, somewhere around that age. In game, of course, he was a full-grown adult, but his voice gave me some insight into the person playing the game. I generally prefer to play with people that are 18 and above, as it usually means a higher probability of the player having some basic level of maturity. In this instance, however, I didn’t mind… especially considering his friendly status.
So I told this player, whom we’ll call Kevin, that I’d have to go soon (to my exam), but that I’d help him gather resources until I had to leave. He thanked me, and invited me into his base, which was currently in the process of being built. In Rust, you can build structures using a few different types of materials. Kevin’s base was currently built out of twig, the cheapest, easiest to break material that was only meant as a placeholder until you had more materials to upgrade. It was clear from my experience that this house would not survive any kind of encounter with hostile players. I told Kevin I’d go out and start gathering, and as I left, he threw me a spear, in case I needed to defend myself.
As I ventured out to gather resources, I reflected on the encounter. Kevin was one of the few Rust players that didn’t kill on sight, and given his youth in the real world, I felt that this friendly attitude needed to be protected. Having played a multitude of games in my life, I could safely say that Rust was by far one of the most toxic when it came to player attitude and general hostility. Kevin and his twig house would be an easy target for abuse – I felt driven to get materials to help him upgrade his walls.
And so I focused on gathering wood, given its abundance, knowing it would allow Kevin to quickly upgrade his walls to wood planks, rather than twigs. I also grabbed stone and other random items wherever I could, anything to help him in his Rust experience. Kevin eventually caught up and joined me in the gathering process. After a while, I had accumulated a decent amount of resources, so I gave him the stacks of wood I had gathered, along with other items, and suggested he work on his base, while also saying I’d head out again to gather more while he did that. He thanked me, and threw me a pair of wood armor pants, to give some form of protection against attacks and the elements. Up until that point, I was a naked man with a spear tied to his back – now, I at least had some form of clothing. I thanked him and returned on my quest for resources.
For a while, all was well. I continued gathering resources for him, getting a good mix of wood and other miscellaneous items, until I spotted something in the distance. There was a stream to my left, heading into the distance ahead of me, and at a certain point it lead to a large rock formation, where the water seemed to disappear underneath. Above this rock formation, I could see another Rust player, looking my way. I froze, trying to determine if he was aggressive. My doubts were clarified by a multitude of bullets being fired my way. In response, I immediately turned and ran, in a zig-zag formation. In the distance, I could see an area with the remains of civilized life, concrete walls, as well as other obstacles I could potentially use to protect myself from an attacker. As I ran to this area, I realized that I had not crafted a sleeping bag yet – meaning if I died, I would respawn somewhere random in the world, and would have difficulty finding Kevin again. To solve this, I frantically started crafting a sleeping bag as I ran.
When I finally reached the concrete wall, I slipped behind it and waited for a moment, silent, to see if my attacker was still giving chase. After a few seconds, I noticed him running right past the wall, not noticing where I had hidden. He was wearing armor made of broken road signs, a form of improvised protection, and in his hand, he held an AK-47, the rifle that had attacked me moments earlier. Though I was glad I wasn’t noticed, I realized he was running in the direction of Kevin’s home, which concerned me; however, I knew the first step was to get myself to safety, so I could place a sleeping bag down. So I waited a moment, and then bolted in the opposite direction, where my attacker had come from.
To my surprise, I ran directly into another player wearing improvised street sign armor, holding a handgun. In a panic, I stabbed him in the face with my spear. It then occurred to me that this person might not be hostile like the other, so I attempted to recover from my instant attack reflex by extending a peaceful message via voice chat. I said “actually, I’m a friendly – ” and then was shot in the face immediately, making me fall onto my back, still alive, but injured. In Rust, when you fall like this, people can take stuff out of your inventory, and they can either help you back up afterwards, leave you to bleed out, or just eliminate you. I waited a couple seconds as they looted my body, and said “can you please help me up after you loot all my stuff?” I was still hoping I could place a sleeping bag down, somehow, or that I could still return to Kevin – if he was still alive, he would surely need my help. I feared for his twig house, his trusting, friendly disposition, and what would happen when it came face with the harsh brutality of Rust. Alas, the player looted my body did not help me up… he left me to bleed out. I died without a sleeping bag on the ground, and the game let me know that I had been alive for about 20 minutes. When I respawned, I was someplace else entirely… so I logged out of Rust, and left to do my final exam. I could have technically gotten in contact with Kevin via Steam’s recent players list, but given my exam and how unique the story was, I felt it was best to leave it as is, respecting the realism and harshness of the Rust world.
Matt: Hi this is Matt Refghi at Toronto Comicon, Im here with Ace Ventura, who for some reason was not on the celebrity list, but he should have been. Ace: Yeah, whats the problem with that? Matt: I dont know, we gotta talk to management. But are you here on business by any chance, are you looking for somebodys lost pet, or kidnapped pet? Ace: No, not right now, I just came down to the comiccon. Matt: Okay, came dwon to the comic con. Ace: Yeah, I was there actually, I saw you, but there was some problem with the mic, I guess. Matt: Yes, it seems like we have somewhat of a curse. The microphone doesnt want to cooperate. But maybe this time it will, we have to keep fighting against things like this. Ace: Yes! Matt: Because whats important in life, as you have told me before, is Ace: To enjoy yourself. Matt: To have a damn good time. Ace: Yes, have fun! Matt: Right, so, youre like the physical representation of fun, basically. Ace: haha, thank you Matt: So, you mentioned to me that youre an actor. Ace: Yes, I am an actor, I graduated from John Abbott College in Montreal. Matt: Alright, perfect. And you go to bars, and you go Ubisoft, and places like that in character Ace: Yeah, haha, youre right, I just kind of put myself out there, I just gotta try it, right? Do it, actually. So. Matt: Right, absolutely, and your goal is to well, youve already perfected this character, Ive already said that before a few times, microphone. Ace: haha Matt: But anyway, youre doing great with that, you also mentioned The Mask, that youre gonna venture off into The Mask territory. Ace: Yeah, well thats a work in progress actually right now. Im planning to do it at the Montreal Comic-Con, I gotta get, you know, the costume and everything, but the acts its kinda there still gonna need practice, but yeah just need to change it a little bit, and show what Im able to do, you know, cause this is, Ive got it down pat. And my goal with this character, actually, is to meet Jim Carrey one day, and I dont know, maybe hes gonna be in front of a mirror right now. Matt: Yeah. A mirror that, as you mentioned before, theres like a personal element. Cause its not a pure copy, right? Ace: Exactly. I am not Jim Carrey, you know. Matt: You coulda fooled me. Ace: I know! Right now hey, buddy! Matt: haha. Very good, very good. So, Montreal Comic-con, you also said youre planning to hit up a bunch of other conventions, basically just trying to, you know Ace: All of them this year, actually, all of them this year. I dont know, Im just so excited and I come down here, I see the people having fun, and I look at all the booths, everythings amazing, and when people laugh, thats my fuel, right? Thats my it gives me energy, and I just keep doing it. Matt: You keep spreading the cheer, and your philosophy of just having a damn good time, having fun, right? Ace: Yeah, well, thats my philosophy of life, thats my life philosophy, yeah, haha Matt: Alright, best of luck in your acting, sir, and as I mentioned before, I look forward to seeing the Mask, so Ill see you probably at Ottawa Comic-con, no sorry, thatll be at Montreal Comiccon. Ace: Yea, but I will definitely go down with Ace at Ottawa Comiccon, for sure, Ill be there. Matt: Alright, so Im hoping to see you there. And just keep working on this, man, youve already got this one down just keep working, hey, what can I say, youve got this down, keep what youre doing, going, alright? Ace: Thank you. Thank you! I hope youre having a lovely day. Matt: Im having a great time, sir. Ace: Have yourself a lovely day! Take care now. Bye bye. Matt: Okay, Im fine with that. Ace: haha
On August 1st, 2016, I decided it was time to continue challenging myself just like I did with my two 30-day challenges in 2013. The third challenge turned out simpler than the previous two: I would bike at least 20 km (~12.4 miles) per day for thirty consecutive days. Unlike 2013, there were no other rules – no photos, no mandatory checkpoints. And, for some reason, I also decided to keep the challenge completely under the radar until I completed it. The only people that could see my progress were those that followed me on Strava, since I named my rides incrementally (Day 1, 2, etc) as I went along.
And so the challenge began, and progressed without fault for two weeks. Then came day 16, a particularly rainy day. I wasn’t new to dealing with rain – I understood very well that no matter what the weather was like, I’d still get out there to complete my challenge. That’s why I was wearing a poncho, and as much of a water resistant jacket as I could locate. Despite my gear, given the abundance of rain, I was soaked far before I reached the half-way point. By 19.2 km, I realized I needed just a little more distance to meet my mark. So, to wrap up the day, I decided to drive (large) circles around an empty parking lot. It may sound weird, but I’d done this before, and it was a good, optimized way to finishing up the day. On this particular occasion, however, I drove over a certain puddle that I expected to be exactly that: a puddle, but instead, it was a puddle concealing a massive chasm leading to another dimension.
Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit, but that’s a size 14 shoe. That pothole wasn’t messing around. My bike rolled over it from the right (from photo’s perspective), which meant my front wheel immediately dropped into it, and the next thing I knew, I was flying off of my bike, where I landed on my left side. I managed to get up fairly quickly, and discovered some basic wounds on my left elbow and hand, but other than that, nothing seemed to be wrong. As I was still being bombarded by rain, I immediately turned my attention to my bike, as the chain had been knocked out of position.
After a few minutes, I’d restored the bike to working order, and proceeded to glance at my phone. I was short roughly 0.5 km from my 20 km goal, and while my wounds were bleeding a bit, they weren’t too big or too serious, so I resumed cycling – I wanted to finish what I had started (the challenge, not my demise). Having learned my lesson about puddles and potholes, I specifically chose to drive on a bike path where I knew the asphalt was in great shape, and I even specifically avoided puddles, just in case.
Despite my optimized approach and my original assessment of the damage, a few minutes later, I started to realize that something was wrong. When I rolled over bumps or cracks in the road, it would trigger pain in my ribs, on the left side of my chest. This, wasn’t good. Back in 2014, I had broken 2-3 ribs in an inline skating fall, and I worried I might have earned myself additional fractures. The 2014 rib injuries were incredibly painful – by comparison, the pain I felt driving over the bumps wasn’t as pronounced. I wondered if perhaps I had a hairline fracture, something less extreme.
But I was stubborn, so I still drove, but did so as carefully as I could to still reach the 20 km for that day, since I was so close. Part of me still wanted to continue with the 30-day challenge despite the accident, but by the next morning, I had decided to be reasonable, to let my body heal. I later learned from an x-ray that I had fallen in such a way that I caused trauma to the same ribs that I broke in 2014, only, thankfully, I did not fall directly on the same spot. Ending the challenge meant avoiding the probability of me falling on the ribs once more and doing more serious damage, no matter how small the odds.
The accident caused me to reflect on cycling as a sport. I had a lot of experience cycling in my life, and this was the second time I was sent flying from my bike. The first incident occurred years ago when I drove into some mud, and rather than stay the course, I tried to turn to the right, to escape it. This caused me to lose balance, and I was sent flying straight over the handle bars, landing on my stomach in the dirt ahead of me. I tore up my left knee pretty bad, and suffered multiple scrapes, but other than that, I didn’t break any bones.
I’ve always been the type of guy that wears a helmet when cycling, without fail. I was also a fairly cautious rider, making sure not to push limits needlessly… but even still, these two accidents occurred, and they served as valuable lessons that would undoubtedly shift my behavior in a very permanent way. I pondered about all the other cyclists in the world, and the experiences they might have accumulated in their careers, amateur or otherwise. Just from my two accidents, I had learned some good lessons:
Puddles may be hiding giant pot holes that are out to kill you, so it’s best to avoid them altogether.
When you drive into mud, do not under circumstance try to turn – release pedals, keep your balance.
Surely, if all cyclists got together somehow and learned tricks like these, overall we’d suffer less injuries simply through increased awareness. But then again, is anything as good as experiencing an error yourself, and dealing with the consequences? In my experience, the best way to avoid repeating mistakes is to form a really deep, negative association. That said, I’m thankful my consequences this time around weren’t as bad as they could have been. Still… don’t be surprised if you see me cycling with a rib-protecting Michelin Man type get-up.
On the night of April 9th, 2015, I collapsed onto my couch, having finished a second day of working at a job fair that took place at the Palais des Congres de Montreal. On my face, despite my fatigue, was a smile – I greatly enjoyed working at fairs. At the time, I would occasionally work job fairs for one of my corporation’s clients, Champlain College Saint-Lambert. I even wrote a blog post about what they do. For those that didn’t read that post, here’s a quick run-down:
I worked primarily with the Recognition of Acquired Competencies (RAC) department, which fits within the realm of Continuing Education, for adults. RAC is a process that people can use to have their life and work experience recognized towards obtaining an official college certificate or diploma. If they have a significant amount of experience, Champlain can evaluate them for what they already know, and help them fill in the remaining gaps.
So anyway, that night, after collapsing on the couch, I felt motivated to write about my experiences that day. I knew I wouldn’t necessarily publish the post that night, but I wanted to make sure that the events were recorded in their freshest state possible, especially given my mood.
While I no longer work job fairs for Champlain, I felt it would still be valuable to share what I wrote back then, given the pleasure I derived from such experiences. I’ve also refined and reworked the content since then, so it should read better than it did originally. Here goes.
April 9, 2015
I’m always amazed at how much energy I derive from working almost every single shift at fairs. Every time one comes around, I secretly find myself hoping that I get to work as many time slots as possible, so I can personally be there to spread the word of RAC. You must understand: I absolutely love the concept behind RAC. It was incredibly awesome to learn that the Ministère de l’Éducation et de l’Enseignement supérieur had such a mechanism in place, back when I started working with Champlain in 2013. I couldn’t even believe it didn’t always exist – it seemed so logical to me. Ultimately, this meant – and still means that I derive genuine satisfaction by working alongside the RAC team, as I play a part in helping RAC change lives. Yes, RAC offers a practical, tangible product: a diploma or certificate, but what I value most is that the person is getting rightful credit for something they clearly knew all along. Why should an academic path be the only means of acquiring a diploma or certificate? If you can show what you know, then you deserve the diploma, regardless of your life path.
In this particular fair, two unique events occurred, both of which I felt were worth sharing.
Encounter 1
When the first occurred, I was standing at the booth, re-configuring one of our laptops so it’d be ready for future visitors. Our booth was situated at the end of a row, but in such a way that it was next to the main artery that people used to navigate through the various rows of the fair. As I was finishing with the laptop, someone was walking past the booth via this artery, only to suddenly stop, and speak to me.
He noticed I had a container of paper clips on the table next to me, and asked if he could have one to help him with his papers. It was an oversight that it was out and visible, but since it would be useful to this attendee, and we rarely used them, I figured why not. I handed him the container so he could retrieve one, so he thanked me, and jokingly said “I’ll be going now” and feigned walking away with the whole container in hand, with a laugh. I laughed in suit, and joined in on his humor: “yep, take the whole set.”
After taking a single clip, he handed the container back. While he worked on clipping his papers together, I returned the container to its rightful place underneath our table, further cleaning up the desk space for future visitors. Once he had finished and put his sheets away, he casually looked up at the booth. He then proceeded to ask me what we did, but in a way that clearly showed it was an after-thought. I explained the usual things: that we recognize what people already know in a given field, and help them get diplomas that prove that knowledge. In the middle of my explanation, he noticed something crucial, and made this known out loud. I could detect that he was surprised, his interest peaked: “you have IT programs?” I smiled and quickly signaled him to come over to the front of the booth, knowing I’d have plenty to say to him. (I love talking to people about RAC services in general, but speaking to them about IT and RAC is a nice combo, given my own Computer Science background.)
The more I spoke to this person, the more we both realized that he was hands-down an amazing match for Champlain RAC’s services. He had recently moved to Canada from the States, and wanted to get Canadian credentials to help with Canadian employers. He liked both Champlain’s IT Client Support (ITCS) and Cisco (networking) services: a combo only certain candidates can do, those with strong IT support skills, and also significant networking knowledge. But, this person, in the end, ended up applying for ITCS, with plans to do Cisco after completing it. Each would reward an Attestation d’études collégiales (AEC) that would help in boosting his employability, and amusingly, as he told me, he had no idea what the fair was about, and had no reason to be there. He simply noticed people walking around with the fair’s branded bags, and figured he’d see what was going on. It’s amazing to me, how random chains of events can lead to potentially significant discoveries. If he hadn’t investigated the fair, if he hadn’t specifically wandered to our section to ask for our paper clips, and if I hadn’t been positioned perfectly for him to see our programs listed behind me… would he have ever known about RAC, a solution that he so clearly hungered for, without realizing it existed?
Encounter 2
Another encounter really marked me that day. A man approached me with his wife, and proceeded to ask me questions about RAC’s Transport and Logistics (T&L) AEC. As usual, I jumped into the RAC pitch, and, while he seemed interested in the concept, I also got the impression through his body language that he felt it wasn’t for him. He eventually mentioned that he had heard of RAC before, and liked the concept, but that it didn’t seem right for him…. so he thanked me for my time and started leaving the booth.
As he did so, I had an impulse – I asked him where he actually heard about RAC. He explained that he was involved in a training session of some sort, and that the option was mentioned: but that it wasn’t Champlain College Saint-Lambert specifically he heard of. The way he answered, I could tell that he thought I was primarily concerned with where he heard about Champlain’s RAC services, but in reality, my question was born of genuine curiosity regarding the spread of RAC as a whole. In my work for Champlain, I’ve come to realize, along with my colleagues, that a huge factor of promoting RAC is simply sensitizing people to its existence. Once they know it exists, it’s a no-brainer – the services practically sell themselves. So in asking him this question, I genuinely wanted to know where he happened to hear about RAC, as a concept: regardless of Champlain.
Here’s what was interesting. That last question I asked kept him around talking. The more I spoke to him, the more I understood why he had tried to leave. He had the feeling that his experience was not going to be enough to satisfy RAC’s general admission requirements. Before, I didn’t know why he thought it wasn’t for him; but now, I could help. See, with RAC, people need to have a lot of experience: roughly 70% of the knowledge required to obtain a particular certificate or diploma, at least. We make this abundantly clear from the start – RAC’s not about handing out free diplomas and certificates, the person will be interviewed and tested to assess whether their experience is enough for admission. And, if they’ve acquired a lot of experience but are missing bits, it’s not necessarily a problem: we can help them fill those gaps with seminars and online resources, as long as those gaps are reasonable and proportionally sensible.
The more I spoke to him, the more I understood why he doubted his own skills. His T&L experience stemmed from working in a warehouse while in the military. It wasn’t necessarily a direct, cookie-cutter type of position, but I remembered what a colleague once told me: sometimes, people don’t realize how much they know. I even remembered editing a particular video testimonial where a T&L candidate was unsure that he knew enough, and guess what? He worked in a warehouse, also. Ultimately, while not in the most obvious of T&L roles, the candidate in the video had absorbed and done enough over the years to be considered a valid RAC candidate.
I relayed the gist of this to the military man, citing the warehouse testimonial as an example, and by the end, it seemed clear that he might very well be a valid T&L candidate. And if everything worked out, he could even technically work on T&L while in the military, over a year, and then when he was ready to return to civilian life, he’d be able to transition straight into a industry, no down time. Beautiful. The flexibility of Champlain’s RAC services certainly made this a possibility.
Now, obviously, I did not possess the authority nor the experience to 100% guarantee whether this candidate would be admitted, but I heard enough, based on my experience, to suggest that he get in contact with the T&L advisor, rather than assume he wouldn’t get in. Ultimately, his experience would be analyzed through RAC’s admissions procedure, which would include an interview from an industry professional, and a self-evaluation. In short, he didn’t really need to worry about whether he was experienced enough – the admissions procedure and the team at Champlain would sort that out one way or another.
And to think, he almost walked away thinking he wasn’t going to be good enough! Afterwards, I was really amazed at how a genuinely selfless question, born out of simple curiosity, could potentially lead to this man’s life changing for the better. When I asked, I wasn’t looking to keep him talking. I was merely curious. Yet, that random impulse on my part could have very well triggered a whole new journey. I love how the world works.
Over the years, I’ve had a decent amount of time to reflect on my own psychology. I’ve always been very big on the idea of doing no harm… put simply, I aim to have a damn good time while I’m alive, while being as kind as possible to everyone around me. Though this sounds good on paper, in the past, this mentality has caused me a significant amount of grief. The root of the problem lay within my own psychology… I cared too much (bear with me, you’ll see what I mean).
In the past,at the end of each day, my brain would systematically review the social interactions that had occurred, and it would identify the areas where I felt I had made mistakes… moments where I seemed to have unintentionally caused others to feel uncomfortable. This, of course, was a certain expression of perfectionism – I was on a constant quest to better myself, and this was just one of the ways I seemed to go about doing it. Problem is, I really, really felt horrible whenever something I did had a negative effect on someone else.
It had a lot to do with my past. Suffice it to say, when I was growing up, I became pretty familiar with being on the receiving end of disrespect – I was bullied quite a bit. When I reached adulthood, I still remembered how terrible it felt to be disrespected, so whenever I thought I had made someone to feel like that, I felt exceptionally bad. I never wanted anyone else to feel like I did so many times growing up. I felt so strongly about this, actually, that I would often find myself losing sleep… having difficulty just being within my own head, mentally beating myself up for the mistakes I’d made each day.
With time, I came to realize that the intensity of my emotions were usually disproportional to the actual impact they had on the individuals in question. I would get conclusive evidence of this when I would approach people afterwards, and apologize for instances where I thought I made them uncomfortable. These gestures were always appreciated, but in about 75% of cases, I learned that the people in question weren’t affected at all, or not as deeply as I had assumed. Over time, given these experiences, I slowly got better at beating myself up less. My heightened caution and sensitivity had a lot to do with my past… but my past wasn’t representative of the present. And just because I felt things so deeply, didn’t mean others felt things exactly like I did. It was a good realization to come to.
Believe it or not, there were also external factors that seemed to accentuate my worrying, in certain cases. I remember a distinct time where I felt more anxious and worried than usual, and I had a harder time being happy… it was odd. I remember questioning, what changed? Why, all of a sudden, was I having more difficulty with something so basic? Cheese. Yes,cheese. There had been a significant sale on cheese at the grocery store (I swear, I’m not joking), which lead me to buy higher amounts of cheese than usual, which I then ate more of than usual. (I have a hard time writing that and not cracking a smile, but it’s totally true.) I even found a correlation between my anxiety and the cheese, by consulting my food logging app. Now, I wasn’t a doctor, nutritionist, or an allergist, but I could see a pattern. I gave away all my remaining cheese, and decided to test my theory… I removed cheese from my diet, as a test. Sure enough, once I stopped with the cheese, my anxiety and nervousness dropped, and I started to feel normal again. Weird.
So, with a combination of age, experience, and dietary factors, I found myself with a better mentality. I should feel badly about what I’ve done wrong, but only for a moment – after all, I’m human. Feeling a moment of deep, honest regret is what ensures I don’t repeat the same mistakes. But the days of beating myself up endlessly were gone… in my mind, I would mentally visualize a dark cloud appearing over me, giving me grief for my errors, but unlike in the past, I acknowledged it, made a note to do better, then smacked it away immediately. Message received, no need to dwell.
I’ve also been really lucky in life with regards to meeting key people that understood my psychology very well. Among them, is particular co-worker, who coined an expression that I’ve since adopted and use regularly: reasonable perfectionism. You can drive yourself batty trying to do the absolute best job possible, or, you can do a very good job based on your experience, but not obsess to an unhealthy, unreasonable level.
Over the years, I’ve learned to trust in my experience as a human being. I still make mistakes all the time socially, but I don’t torture myself as much as I did in the past. I just keep growing, learning, and with that, I make less and less mistakes. I continue to have a damn good time, while continuously improving my ability to be considerate and kind with everyone around me. And, as long as I always feel at least slightly embarrassed at how I acted in the year before, then I must be doing something right.
Note: November 13 is World Kindness Day. I figured it might be a good time to release this blog post, which I’ve had in a mostly-complete state since June. I also figured it’d be a great time to start my weekly game giveaways, as announced in my recent video. One free copy of The Binding of Isaac is now available. Simply add it to your cart via my Giveaway “store”!
In a recent blog post, I shed a bit of light on some difficulties I faced in my personal life:
“2015 hit me like a semi. My life changed drastically, and I quickly found myself in a world where I could not find that feeling of peace that I had learned to use as my compass. Changes happened too quickly, without enough thought and comfort, and, as a result, my stress skyrocketed.”
2015 was indeed a very rough year, but back in 2014, I had major conflicts with my family, my girlfriend, and even my mentor. As the year came to a close, I had no choice but to laugh at how unbelievably dark things had become. If asked to total up the problems I faced, I’d use one word: hate. Not hate like hate crimes, or anything super serious like that, I mean more like the kind of hate people encounter on the Internet. No matter what happens on the Internet, no matter how positive, you can be sure that there will be “haters” commenting along with it.
Hater (Haters) is a term which refers to a person or group who expresses hatred in public forums, especially those found on the World Wide Web such as YouTube.
But, without them, let’s face it…. the Internet just wouldn’t be the Internet. The general advice is to ignore them, and to continue doing what you’re doing – content creators are told to get a thick skin, to not let the negativity hit home. That particular logic even has its own unofficial slogan: “haters gonna hate,” one of my favorites. Put simply, you’re never going to be able to please everyone, so don’t let people’s hate/opposition get in your way. Just do what you do.
This is all fine and good, but when you have members of your family “hating” on you for choices you’ve made in your own personal life, the story becomes significantly more complicated. In my case, it began when I entered a particular relationship in 2014. Even though the relationship was my business, I faced what I can only describe as an extreme amount of opposition from my family. It was to the point where intentional actions were taken to disrupt the relationship between me and my girlfriend. This created a lot of stress, and added a lot of unnecessary turbulence at an early stage of the relationship, and eventually, contributed to its demise. (Looking back, the relationship wasn’t a good fit – it would not have lasted anyway, but in no way did that give ANYONE the right to disrupt my life from the outside.)
A few months after, I clashed with another family member. I won’t get into specifics, for the sake of anonymity, but suffice it to say that it all started with a very innocent e-mail, with zero ill-will behind it. I sent this e-mail after checking the wording with multiple friends (four, not kidding), just because I felt the e-mail might be perceived incorrectly, particularly knowing the individual in question and their psychology. My goal was to communicate this innocent thing, while wording it exceptionally well so that the person hopefully wouldn’t react poorly due to misunderstanding. Despite all this consideration and care, the person, in the end, flipped out (to put it somewhat bluntly), and sent me multiple e-mails, accusing me of a variety of things: actively seeking to doing harm, having a mental illness, being cold, heartless, you name it. I’m simplifying it, though. The things said in these e-mails were absolutely, 100% written with the intent of doing maximum harm, with zero consideration that the person on the receiving end was a blood relative. I could never imagine myself sending something like that to stranger… let alone a blood relative.
In both of these cases, I had approached my family with the utmost care and consideration. I knew things were somewhat sensitive, and I specifically took steps to make a positive outcome more likely. But yet, despite my efforts, my consideration, there I was, demonized, deemed a horrible person… a very bad man.
After these events, I had no choice but to cut contact with the family members in question, as the exchanges had gotten too poisonous. I also ended up having to part ways my mentor, as mentioned my blog post titled The Suit Bag, which further added to my sense of having been shunned, alienated. Looking to discuss everything that had happened, I found myself a therapist through the CLSC, which turned out to be one of the most valuable experiences in my life. I’d always been a fan of therapy, always open to self-reflect and hear an objective opinion, but I never felt I had enough to discuss, until 2014 came along. Ultimately, the therapist agreed that I needed to temporarily cut contact from my family – boundaries had been seriously violated, and too much residual emotional turbulence was present. We agreed to slowly re-establish a non-poisonous relationships with key family members over time, and, today, I can say that the plan was absolutely brilliant. Without it, restoring friendly relations would not have been possible so soon.
But while I was still in the thick of it, reflecting on the nasty e-mails I had received, and the opposition I faced, I couldn’t help but find a little humor in my being deemed a “bad man,” a devil of sorts. My care and consideration had manifested itself clearly and generously – for that innocent e-mail, for example, I had recruited 4 different people, 2 male, 2 female, to ensure that I wasn’t saying anything that could be misinterpreted. This was going WAY overboard in terms of caution, almost to the point of lunacy. That’s how careful I was… yet… it earned me the most brutal series of e-mails I had ever received in my life. To move forward, I naturally turned to my old coping mechanism, my ability to find humor in even the darkest of times.
I also had the idea of going a little further with it…. I thought: let’s try to use some of the negativity to make other people laugh as well. After all, it’s what I’ve been doing on my blog all along – turning negative life experiences into amusing stories. I liked the idea of grabbing the negativity, repackaging it, and making people laugh. There was a certain justice to it, in my mind. And the beauty was, no one needed to know that I was doing that – just me knowing that I had used hate to make people laugh, was justice enough. So with that concept born in my mind, I went on living my life, and knew that eventually, I’d get an idea that would work with that.
The first idea I had was while browsing items in a grocery store. I spotted a bottle of Nutella, a product I specifically avoid because it’s so tasty that it pretty much guarantees over-consumption. In other words, it’s kind of an “evil” product due to its amazing tastiness (for me, anyway). So on this particular day, when I saw the bottle, I laughed, and thought if the devil existed, it would make total sense for him to create Nutella, and watch the world succumb to an inevitable state of obesity, accelerated by its tastiness. Again, I laughed: before me was proof that the devil existed. Knowing other people found Nutella just as tasty, I got home, and decided to turn that idea into a public service announcement graphic, for kicks. Keep in mind, the idea originally had nothing to do with the events of 2014. But something happened while I was actually creating it.
At face value, it’s fairly clear that the focus of the shot is the Nutella bottle, given the emphasis by circle. It also makes sense when most people think about Nutella, and how absolutely delicious it is, compared to other foods. But here’s the thing… in the graphic, what if I wasn’t talking about the Nutella? Notice how my website appears pretty clearly, and that it bears my name? Perhaps I’m warning people that I’m the devil, and that they should know that I exist.
Now, obviously, I knew that I wasn’t the devil. But given the turbulence encountered during the year, I knew that there were an increasing number of people out there that really thought I was, despite my own efforts. Playfully, I added that subtle suggestion – my way of converting some of that concentrated negativity into something that could potentially make other people laugh. And I loved what that symbolized, getting something useful out of unnecessary harshness.
Here’s another example, the cover to a fictitious book:
Money, Please: How the Key to Female Attraction Was In Your Wallet This Whole Time. Read the blog post.
It was born innocently enough: someone texted me “money please,” and that got me thinking.
It was the sheer simplicity of the text, “money please,” that spoke to me. To me, those two words perfectly summed up what some unfortunate, bitter men might think of women: that they’re only after money, in life. Though I absolutely didn’t agree with that view of women, and their desires, I did find humor in the fact that those two words, together, were so brilliantly suited to be matched with that stereotype/mindset. So I kept it in mind, and knew that eventually, I’d want to make use of that idea in some way, for humor.
That was the foundation of the idea, but what triggered me to get it done, was something else: I realized that the whole concept would make it possible for me to have quotes on the front page of the book, and that those quotes could opposeme, given that the humor behind my idea was based on me acting ridiculous to begin with. In other words, I could re-use the hate that was directed towards me in the year, and wield it, yet again, to support the humor that I was going for in my post. It made sense to me that certain readers of the fictitious “Money, Please” would be against the premise of the book, and I liked the idea of putting those quotes right on the front, as if I was so ridiculous, as a fictitious author, that I didn’t realize they were against my book.
Ultimately, I included two main quotes:
“You will live and die a very lonely life.” – Amy
This quote represents a fictitious female reader that (rightfully) disapproves of the ridiculous premise presented by my book. It makes it clear that I realize that I’m being silly, in case that wasn’t obvious enough… and it also makes me seem so stupid that I’d include negative quotes on my own book cover. Now, in reality, this was a verbatim quote from one of the hateful e-mails I received. A nasty thing to say, but in this context, very appropriate.
“Oh, Matt.” *shakes head* – Yasmine
This next quote is something that was said to me via chat, at one point, and when I replied to understand what she meant, I never heard back. While it doesn’t qualify as hate, I found it pretty silly that something so cryptic would be left unclarified like that, especially since I hadn’t spoken to the person in months. So I included it on the book as a hat tip to the how silly modern communication can be, these days – something Aziz Ansari touched upon in his Modern Romance tour.
So, in the end, when I recycle these negative things, it’s almost like I’m getting a certain therapeutic value from doing so, even if people aren’t aware of them. In fact, there were numerous cases where I felt a lot better about a negative events that occurred in my life right after I wrote about them on my blog. It’s kind of a great way to organize your thoughts, and in my case, I usually also use the opportunity to inject a little humor, the element that allowed me to get to where I am today.
Now, at the end of the day, I look back on the difficulties of the year 2014 as yet another significant learning opportunity, where I had some really tough obstacles plopped in my path, and I was forced to find a way to get through them. I sympathize with my family, my mentor, and even my ex-girlfriend – they each had their own life circumstances that lead them to behave in the ways that they did back then, which contributed to the craziness of my 2014 – but it surely affected them as well, in their own ways. I must also express a sincere thanks to my therapist, who was there to talk when I felt most alone, without me having to put that burden on my friends.
As you may know from some of my prior blog posts, I sometimes push myself to extremes when it comes to which foods I eat, how I approach weight loss, and how I approach exercise. Somehow, extremes seems to work better with my brain, rather than slowly progressing towards an ideal change. So, I was intrigued when I randomly encountered a video on YouTube featuring Penn Jillette, one half of the magician duo Penn & Teller. In the video, Penn describes how he lost 100 pounds… while still being able to eat whatever he wants. Now, don’t get me wrong – I fully understand how much the Internet is plagued by gimmicky weight loss headlines, but take it from me… there’s an interesting message embedded here.
If you just read the title, or just watch a fraction of it, you might very well conclude that he’s insane and move on. And frankly, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. His approach is a bit nuts, but in due time, you start to see that there’s more to it than the face value. Penn starts his story off with a disclaimer, communicated with an amusing amount of bluntness:
“If you take medical advice from a Las Vegas magician, you are an idiot who deserves to die.”
Ooook then. So if you understand that and move on, he describes how he kicked off his weight loss effort by eating only potatoes for 14 days. Yes, potatoes. Whole potatoes. No adding salt, no altering the potatoes in any way. No specific meal times, either – he approached it with simplicity: if he was hungry, he ate a potato. As a guy that likes extremes, I respected his lunacy.
After the 14 days, he expanded slowly into other foods. He explained, for example, that an ear of corn tasted like candy to him, after his potato consumption spree. It was as if his potato diet had rebooted his taste buds. Whereas, in the past, he’d be overwhelmed with the taste of butter, salt, and wouldn’t quite taste the corn. This, I could relate to completely. As a former vegetarian of 8 years, I learned to appreciate the subtleties of non-meat consumption. Veggie hot dogs, for example, were never particularly tasty when you were used to eating delicious, actual meat sausages. But when you never had meat… your sense of taste adapted, and the veggie hot dogs began to taste fairly good.
I’ve had other experiences that illustrated this, also: switching from regular V8, to its low-sodium variant, and from 2% milk, to skim milk. In both cases, immediately after switching, I couldn’t believe how much weaker the flavors were. But, sure enough, as I kept at it, I got used to it, and before long, the super-exaggerated sodium content of the original V8 was no longer appealing to me. And 2% milk suffered a similar fate – its flavor became too intense – skim had become my normal. It’s not that the new foods themselves were lacking in flavor – it’s that my taste took some time to adjust to the subtleties.
This is echoed quite brilliantly in Penn’s conclusion, where he states the following:
“After this whole, incredibly restrictive diet, and all of this willpower, and all of this climbing a dietary Everest, as I sit here right now on the Big Think, I now eat whatever I want.But, what I want has changed profoundly.“
Penn used a potato mono-diet as his Everest, and once he reached the summit, he began allowing other foods to enter his diet. He describes his post-14-day diet with two words: whole plants. No animal products, processed grains, added sugar, salt. However, every two weeks, he allows himself to consume food just like a regular person. But something interesting happened – since the potato frenzy, and his subsequent whole plants diet, he finds he doesn’t crave animal products, or junk food like he used to. So, even though he indulges occasionally, he tends to select healthier options almost as an instinct, driven by his newfound tastes.
This all, naturally, reminds me of my weight loss adventures, and brings me back to a time where my own taste buds were appreciative of simpler foods. It is in this spirit that I purged my home of meat products once more, and jumped right back into near-vegetarianism. I say near because I’m in the process of depleting certain products, rather than giving them all away, such as the low-sodium Lipton Chicken Noodle soup that I enjoy. Yes, it contains “dehydrated mechanically separated cooked chicken” ?_?, but, I figure it’s better than flat-out taking a bite out of chicken flesh.
I must emphasize, in closing, that there’s nothing inherently wrong with moderated meat consumption. I’m merely switching back to a diet that seemed to work better for me, habit and fitness-wise. And for this, I must thank Penn. His video reminded me of the role that taste plays in a diet, and in particular, its malleability.
It all started with Prison Break Race… from that point on, I was hooked on the obstacle course lifestyle. It didn’t take long for me to try a few more: Mud Hero, 5K Foam Fest, Polar Hero. The first promised a gratuitous amount of mud, the next threw foam into the mix, and the last was fearlessly scheduled during the winter. Each was interesting, and may even be featured in future posts.
When selecting races, I was always driven to go for the most unique first. So when I heard of Color Me Rad, a 5k race where you get blasted with colorful dyes while running, I was definitely intrigued. I knew I’d have to try it at least once, so I signed up immediately. It’s important to mention that unlike the races I did in the past, this one did not have physical obstacles – only dye.
Now with obstacle races, typically, there’s so much mud and water involved that it is generally advised to leave your phone in your car. I’ve always done that, and I figured Color Me Rad would be no exception; however, I was wrong. Color Me Rad surprised me by including an extremely convenient protective case for phones. For once, I could actually bring my phone with me, and take photos of the experience. Great thinking on their part.
Prior to the actual race, since I wore contact lenses, I pondered how I would protect my eyes from all the dye that would be thrown at me. To do this, I went to the dollar store and bought a really cheap diving mask. I took the most colorful one they had, bright neon green, and, since it wasn’t the best quality, I went ahead and cut out the part that was under the nose, so I could continue to breathe despite wearing it.
Come race day, my mask worked… for the most part. I ran with it up on my head, and when I approached a color “gate” (a specific point in the race where their staff throws/shoots dye), I pulled it down to guard my face. Now, generally, you’re told that their staff is specifically instructed to NOT target a person’s face. This makes sense; however, my experience was a little different. At the first gate, no less, one particular staff member specifically targeted my face, laughing in an almost maniacal way. If I was wearing a GoPro, replaying the footage in slow motion would have been priceless if only for the guy’s facial expression and momentary lunacy. After the encounter, I reflected and figured I was likely being targeted because I had some form of facial protection, unlike the majority. Not all staff members succumbed to momentary lunacy, however – the majority behaved reasonably.
Regardless, by the end of the race, despite being equipped, I was completely covered in dye. The mask did a fairly good job, but it didn’t stop the dye from finding its way to my eyes – it only reduced the amount that made it through. Granted, I was at least partially to blame. At another color gate, near the end, I decided to walk slowly to increase the time their staff had to shower me with dye. A bit overconfident, you might say – but the dye, in and of itself, was no big deal. What was a big deal, unfortunately, was having to take a big breath during this slow march through the gate. In doing so, the timing was such that I inhaled right as a huge yellow dye cloud slammed against my face, giving me a big dose of yellow, and a heavy coughing fit to match.
Still, despite these inconveniences, it was an interesting experience – and if I were to do it again, I’d probably go even crazier with the facial protection. I’d engineer something more functionally reliable, while also making sure it looks exceptionally ridiculous for everyone else’s benefit. Without any face protection, I’m not sure I’d do it, though. Even when I ran through the gates, due to the timing of the throws, sometimes, the powders still messed with my breathing – which is kind of the last thing you want messed with.
