I pretty much conquered 2010. Seriously. I had so much shit thrown at me from all directions, but I didn't take shit from no one. I found out that I was pretty much kicked out of the program with no prior notice whatsoever and that I'd have to take 24 credits to get back in, but I didn't just give up, I stood up and went to see my adviser to the point that she was pretty much sick of seeing me, then I wrote a long email to the director, then I demanded that I see her. I made her cry. That was an emotional meeting for both of us, I appealed to her in every way I could conjure up, not because I was fucking weak and pathetic, but because even though I didn't enjoy the program, I had put so much effort and worked so hard to get into it. I admitted that I made mistakes and promised that I was more than willing to fix my shit, no dice, I said fuck it, I'm not going to dwell over my mistakes and keep making appeals. I had two choices: either meet the requirements to go back in or change my program, and it really hit me that I should've changed my program ages ago. I always had it in the back of my head that I wanted to leave, but I didn't bother, so I just waited for them to make me my own goddamn decision, which was the only thing I regretted: the fact that I wasted three years of my life on something I wasn't even enjoying. I was relaxed. People kept telling me how I ruined my life and needed to straighten the fuck up, but I knew that wasn't the right attitude to take, all I could do was recognize the wrong choices I made, make better choices, and take good care of myself. I had a huge argument with my parents and made them really see that I wasn't rebelling for the sake of rebelling, I made them see that this is what I really want and am going to get it everyone be damned, they could either support me or back off, so my dad suggested I take a semester off, he helped me with the paperwork and got me on my way.
But let's back up a bit. It was June, before I saw my parents. I was arrested for standing up for democracy. Those few days were the best in my life. I slept in a park with dozens of other people, confronted police for invading the privacy of a Native man, sang, chanted and walked with tens of thousands of other people. We took over Toronto -- there was a feeling of love and solidarity in the air. We held hands, shared vinegar-dipped bandanas to protect us from the gas and showed the cops who's boss.
The cops couldn't take it anymore. It was approaching 10 PM and we had been out-maneuvering them all day. The black bloc had caused so much havoc in the city: Tim Horton's, Starbuck's, American Apparel, banks... all smashed in. Someone needed to be scapegoated, not even the pouring rain could stop us. We shouted for everyone on the street to join us and sat down in the middle of the intersection, demanded the cops back off so we could continue on our way. The G20 meeting had been over for the day, but we still wanted the corporate elite to know we're watching them. We walked to the hotel where the world leaders were staying and continued chanting. A few minutes had passed when the riot police started marching in from both directions, stomping their boots and hitting their shields with their batons. By that time we knew we were being arrested. We sat down, held hands and didn't waiver. I calmly took my phone out of my pocket and texted a friend, telling him I was being arrested. I still remember his response. "Comrade, I'm so proud of you," he wrote back. "Let me know if you need anything."
We were kettled in for three hours before the arresting officers started grabbing us out one by one. I said goodbye to the last people remaining in my affinity group, a couple I had just met, told them I love them, and was held and pulled out. "You're under arrest." The officer held me against the wall, spread my legs and arms, emptied my pockets and took away my belt. He took my info, handcuffed me and moved me along. I stayed strong, even joked with one of the cops to let everyone around know they can arrest us, but they can't take us down. I was thrown into a paddy wagon with five other guys, then onto a bus with forty-something people, mostly my age, the girls being in separate compartments, like we were in Afghanistan. From there we were driven to a film-studio-turned-detention-centre where all all the activists were being taken. The bus drove into the studio and we were all shocked: 10 by 20 feet cells, port-a-potties with doors hacked off, people screaming, people banging, and nowhere to lay down but the cold, concrete floor. Could this really be happening in Canada? Shit was surreal, it was right out of the movies, something out of a scene in Children of Men.
I shared a cell with forty guys. We were crammed together and had to take shifts standing, sitting and laying down. But despite that, we remained united -- everyone in the detention centre. We were one voice: we laughed together, moaned together, screamed together, and when people were taken to be processed, we clapped and cheered together. In twenty-four hours I only got thirty minutes of sleep -- I was exhausted, exasperated, frustrated -- but somehow, for some reason, it was a magical day, a day I would do all over again even if I were guaranteed the exact outcome.
I was later transferred to a cell with one of my friends who had been in my affinity group. We hugged and made sure we were OK, talked for a while with our other cellmates and then lingered, just waiting for time to pass. At around 11 PM, my friend asked an officer if she could get in a word for us and let us out. "You haven't done anything," she said, with a look of surprise on her face. "You're the good guys, you should've been out already." Thirty minutes later, we were released.
I was afraid, thought I was going to be alone, with nowhere to go, no ride to take. I was mistaken. I walked out, and lo and behold, there were dozens of people, people with bags of food, phones to make calls and cars to offer rides. "Do you have a place for the night?" someone asked. "No," I replied, "my stuff is in a community centre, but it's probably closed now." A guy offered me his place, he was one of my cellmates. His sister arrived, drove us back to their place, and the guy gave me his room and laptop for the night. They were a really friendly and affable family. Bought me dinner, made me breakfast, let m take a shower and told me to act like I'm home. I couldn't even refuse anything.
I went back to Toronto for my semester off. And what an awesome semester it has been. Sometimes, it's when you stop, slow down, relax, drop out of life, that's when you start figuring things out, and that's pretty much what I did. When you're in the middle of everything, all the chaos, everything happening around you, all the noise, the pressure, the work, stress, life, plans, plans, plans... you get vertigo, get dizzy, lose balance, you want to pause, in the middle of it all, but you can't, how can you, it's like stopping in the middle of an intersection during rush hour to figure out when to turn, you'll get honked at, yelled at, hit. You just want to get out of the car and run run run, into an empty, quiet corner of the world, far from all the noise, all the traffic, and bundle up. I gave myself time to laze around, time to think, time to read, time to write. Everything became a self-discovery, a big deal, a different way to see the world. And living in a queer, community-oriented house really helped. I felt that I belonged somewhere, was part of something, and that I was more than tolerated, accepted, liberated. I felt at peace with my sexuality, my gender identity, was able to think beyond that, dig deeper. And I would've thought the house being vegetarian would've made me more sure of my ways, but it did not -- I continued questioning my vegetarianism, because there are so many ways to look at the issue, which is the beauty of it all, of life, humanity, subjectivity. How absurd. All those questions remain unanswered, and will continue to be unanswered, but living in a free community, an anti-oppressive one based on consensus, it truly breaks the shackles of the mind and lets it wander, wander into the unknown, keeps it humble, reminds it that it'll never be certain.
Beyond all this, stretching back to the beginning of the year, 2010 has been a year of experimentation, of finding myself. The previous year had been a bleak one: I lost all meaning, all motivation, all my drive and passion. There I was, on vacation, in our rented apartment in Istanbul, when it hit me, out of the blue, like the weight of the entire universe had fallen on my shoulders, that life was absolutely meaningless and that I was doing everything for absolutely nothing. I locked myself up in the apartment, couldn't get myself to read more than a few pages a day, couldn't get myself out of bed, thinking, wondering what would happen if I just ended it right there, without even walking through the bedroom door. I fell into the abyss, kept falling and falling, I was struggling to find meaning, struggling to climb back up, spent day and night looking for meaning everywhere -- I dedicated all my time for this search -- but alas, meaning was gone, nowhere to be found, forever shattered, raced past me down the endless, deep, dark hole. But with the help of friends, of strangers who became friends, of comrades, I started embracing life for what it was. All the energy of creativity came rushing through the door and into my dead body. I was awakened, with more passion than ever before. I stopped searching and started living, living in the now, the only thing we have. I stopped doing things for a hypothetical, abstract future, I embarked on a journey, to try everything I ever showed the slightest interest in: I started writing more -- worked on my literary writing, poetry, started writing a play, started developing a style -- attempted my hand at drawing, dabbled in painting, took private guitar lessons, got into philosophy, astronomy, bought some video games, started rollerblading, took cooking more seriously and creatively, attempted baking, digital drawing, started learning web design, joined a gym... spent a lot of time and money on things I hope to continue pursuing.
But time's up, the year's over, and not only are there still many things I need to try out, but I need to get myself organized, set my priorities straight. In 2010 I tried so many things, but I also gave myself plenty of time to relax, to wind down, to figure my life out. The next year will be a year of dedication, of spending more time on my passions, taking them more seriously. I have only one life to live, and this is it, there's no going back, no repetition, the adventure has to go on.
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New Year's Resolutions, 2011:- Keep writing. Keep working on creative writing, poetry, finish writing play. Get into a routine to write at least a few hours a week.
- Keep taking photographs. Get into the habit of taking camera everywhere to take the spontaneous shots.
- Save money towards DSLR.
- Get back to eating healthy and working out. Do it in moderation to keep doing it in the long run.
- Go swimming at least once a week.
- Keep cooking, learning to make new dishes. Try to make at least a new dish a week.
- Learn to bake. Dedicate more time towards it, about a dish every two weeks.
- Keep working on web design. At least a few hours a week.
- Get back to learning the guitar. Develop a routine, at least a few hours a week.
- Start learning to play the piano. Make it a habit, a few hours a week.
- Learn to snowboard. Join the Ski & Snowboard Club, attend some of the events.
- Learn aggressive rollerblading.
- Kick ass in school. Stay on top of classes, see profs if necessary.
- Keep learning independently. Learning in school is awesome, but not enough. Dedicate at least a few hours a week for independent reading and learning.
- Volunteer in the community. At least an hour or two a week in school clubs and organizations.
Topic: Looking back / looking ahead: Like a rising phoenix