My Life as a Travelling Entertainer

oct 004
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

I was a proud member the Highland Dance troupe of the Bands throughout my time at Queen's University. Now it occurs to me that some of you might not realize just what this entailed. Indeed some of you might be under the (false) impression that it is all fun and games and parties. Essentially the Queen's Bands performs at the half-time show of all the Queen's football games, as well as at a variety of parade and alumni type events throughout the year. It's no small commitment, but I really can't imagine what Queen's would have been like for me without it. Anyways, this is a photo of the current Queen's Bands gathering at the edge of the field right before halftime at a Queen's-McMaster game.

oct 010
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

Here they are marching onto the field.

oct 016
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

The drum major yells "Tap on the dancers." The dancers march out in front of the band and get into formation.

oct 017
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

There's a bow before the dancing begins.

oct 018
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

And so, they dance. I think this is a strathspey and reel. I used to get nervous, but this goes away when you realize that as long as you hop around and smile, the crowd really doesn't seem to care what you're doing.

oct 025
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

Finally, I wanted to include a picture of the cheerleaders. They do fun things like human pyramids and whatnot. I actually tried out for cheerleading as well, but the dancers wanted me more. Or so I'm told. Our school mascot, Boo-Hoo the bear is also in the photo. I was Boo-Hoo in a Christmas parade once. There's no explaining how much kids love a big bear. It's a very hot and sweaty job though.

Grease Lightning!!!

oct 027
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

I got wheels! My cousin had an extra bike which he has kindly allowed me to put to use. I can scarce believe my good fortune. It's possibly the coolest bicycle I've ever seen.

My cousin's family also had a 'seafood bonanza' this past weekend. The highlight was most definitely an ENORMOUS Alaskan King Crab with a reported value of $200. Each of it's legs was like a lobster tail. It's body was bigger than my head. Personally, I think that it was stolen from an aquarium.

Are you happy?

Are you rooted? in family? in community?

Do you receive unconditional regard and respect from those closest to you?

Is it all a matter of perspective?

Do you choose happiness?

can you? will you?

si

I met my nephew for the first time today.

During my presentation on Huntington's Disease, I noticed a new face amongst the familiar ones of my classmates. The face was somewhat familiar. During one of the breaks I asked my classmates who the new guy was. My suspicions confirmed, I went to introduce myself. It went something like this:

"Hi, I'm your uncle."

"What?"

Turns out he was here doing an elective in neurology. Seems like a very nice guy. He told me I owed him at least twenty years of lucky money. Being an uncle is not so easy sometimes.

The presentation went alright. I was bit nervous. I should have practiced a bit more perhaps.

I have a presentation to give today on Hungtington's Disease. I think I have a good grasp of the concepts, so I'm cautiously optimistic about it. I'm just about to leave for school now (It takes awhile on foot.) for a last second bit of preparation.

My housemate seems to have withdrawn into her shell. I use to joke about how she goes home every weekend just to avoid me. I'm starting to wonder now if this is really the case. I'm also wondering if whether I had unwittingly created a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The good news is that choir is still going very well. I may take it upon myself to transcribe some of what we sing. Currently, we do EVERYTHING by ear. I have no problem with this, it's just that I'm almost certain that we sing something slightly different each time, and it's confusing to figure it all out. Plus, we have a new pianist, and the poor girl has very little idea of what to play.

I better truck off to school. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as my old statistics prof used to say!

Heartbreak in Hamilton

Heartbreak in Hamilton
Originally uploaded by chan_siu_man.

It is a thought that haunts the hearts and minds of commuters the world over.

Yesterday, as I approached the bicycle rack outside my apartment, I could sense something was amiss. Where amidst the rusty metal abominations was my trusty silver steed?

My friends have been victims of bike theft in the past. Indeed, my own bicycle had been targeted before! Notice the lack of black rubber on my lock? Shorn away by a would be bicycle felon.

I don't think there has ever been a boy more devoted to his bicycle. It's been my primary source of transportation for just under a decade. It has taken me faithfully to school and to run errands in three different cities. No fair weathered friend, it's been there for sunny jaunts into the gatineau hills as well as cold wet trips to the grocery store.

I know I did not always show it the care it deserved. In particular, I regret a few especially trying winters spent in the sleet and snow of Kingston. But still it trundled on. Inspite of, or perhaps because of, my neglect, my bicycle refused to be broken. As long as I had strength of body, it would bear me without complaint.

I did not love my bicycle initially. The gears were finicky, the braking difficult. But I became accustomed to its quirks. And I came to appreciate the qualities that made it so uniquely my own: the silly sticker I had put on it's handbars in high school, the special seat I had installed, the black bicycle bell that adorned it. Who could have known that I'd come to depend on that bicycle so fully, or that it would still be with me ten years down the road? In the end however, true appreciation of my bicycle must be understood through the thrrringing of that bell. A coal-black, little-used contraption that sat on the right handlebar.

I was in ninth grade. I had a bowl haircut and grass stains on my jeans. The sun had gone down, I think. I have memories of the moths collecting around our porchlight. My father presented me with a bicycle bell. The father who believes that suffering is character-building, and that my life is too soft, hands me a bicycle bell and asks,

"Do you want to see the accessory to this bell?"

And there, standing proudly on our deck is my new bicycle. New and unnaturally shiny to my disbelieving eyes. Little unnamed bugs dart around it's fat tubing. My mother laughs and my sisters chatter. And me? What is the appropriate reaction to such an event??

To my shame, I remember my keen sense of displeasure. I wasn't thrilled; I had wanted something else, a different model. I think my father knew. I was transparent. I regret that now. I regret not realizing the significance of the gesture. I regret not properly appreciating the thought. I regret focussing on the mundane, the details. I wish I could have loved that bicycle then, like I loved it's later, worn down, incarnations.

That bicycle, whatever else it may have been, was first and foremost a concrete symbol of a father's regard for his only son.

and now, it's gone.

Medical school applications were submitted yesterday evening. I could not be more relieved. I have read enough application essays to last me a lifetime.

I was at a dinner party yesterday. Because so many of my classmates are female, the conversation was decidedly biased towards knitting, while pressing issues like the NHL lockout were left at the wayside.

This is not to say that girls only talk about knitting, or that boys can't talk about knitting. Whatever makes you happy. Is it pc for me to say that there was more talking about knitting because of the high female population? You gotta watch what you say in the crazy world of today.

Anyways. My point... and I do have one.
Midway through the evening, one of my friends brought up the concept of there being Five Love Languages. Essentially, there are five ways to show you love someone:

1. Gifts
2. Acts of service
3. Physical touch
4. Quality time
5. Words of affirmation

The idea, is that everyone has one or two preferred ways of communicating their regard. Clearly, misunderstandings can arise if two people speak different love langauges. As an example, someone may show they care by spending a great deal of quality time with you. However, if quality time isn't really a big deal for you, and gifts are in fact the way into your heart, you'll be forever oblivious to his/her feelings.

What do you make of a world with such products for sale??