Roommate Case Study

WARNING: This may or may not have a point...

Kant's "Categorical Imperative"? Pff, piece of cake. Fermat's theorem? Child's play. Choosing roommates?... now that's a tough one.

Perhaps no university-level equation is harder to solve than:

Roommate A + Roommate B + Roommate C + ... = workable living situation.

With variables like those, the combination could be volatile, indifferent, or maybe - just maybe - work out swimmingly. For those lucky enough to get the latter result, roommates are those people who you enjoy unwinding with after a hard day's night. For those of you who ended up with the former, you're quietly searching the local housing board at your institution.

Wanting to avoid bias in this "academic" paper, I chose to focus on my new girlfriend's roommates in lieu of my own. Let it be said that Garrulous Godfrey stands for nothing less than total academic integrity. Interestingly, I happened upon a real case study of roommates in action. (editor's note: I have no complaints re: my old roommates.)

Once upon a time, a beautiful girl was tricked into a relationship with a nerd-in-denial, whose romantic repetoire consists of Star Wars lines and a rant about waiting before you upgrade to Windows Vista. (In case you haven't guessed it, you're reading his note.) Boy meets girl, boy sticks around with girl while she goes back to university, boy meets girls roommates. And here is where the study begins.

So here I am, a foreigner in a strange house during first contact. This is a precarious position for many reasons. For one, my motives for dating my girlfriend are suspect to her friends, at least until I can prove my good intentions. Two, disapproval from friends is strongly correlated with eventual dismissal. And three, you're liable to screw up trying too hard whilst feeling uncomfortable in different surroundings.

But - you forget. This is Garrulous GOdfrey they're looking at.

The king of charisma. The czar of smooth-talking. The emperor of emphasis. The..., well you get the idea. So, I popped my collar and got down to schmoozing. Only, it wasn't necessary.

I had happened upon a group of very nice, engaging and multi-talented group of girls, who seemed to accept me as I was. So I sought out the best way to make myself inconspicuous on their way of life. They had reached the equilibrium in their living situation and I did not want to disrupt it.

But this equilibrium I had found is not easily duplicated. It takes a certain amount of good, ol' fashioned friendship, combined with mutual respect, plus, a necessarily small differential on standards for acceptable cleanliness. From my observation, friendships in this household sustain throughout minor dust-ups, or individual idiosyncrasies. Furthermore, there seems to be an pervading honesty that layers itself onto the mutual respect. These girls seem to be able to speak their feelings to each other without resorting to gossiping behind each other's backs. Now that is something that is priceless.

For my part, I feel my duty is to be as inconspicuous as possible. Due to my schedule, my time there is kept short, a measly one night a week to see my best gal. I mean, who can begrudge me that little amount of time with my significant other? I rarely shower there, so as to keep my impact on the utility bill down. And I genuinely enjoy talking with these girls which can be rare for some partners' roommates. So hopefully, I don't stick out ass that brooding guy in the corner.

But what I'm getting at is that I do these things not out of a sense of fear, but a real motivation to try to be as good of a roommate to them as they are to each other. You could say it is infectious. I want to limit my showers because I want to preclude any unnecessary cost to them. And I would expect nothing less than their honesty and mutual respect to apply to me. It is, if you will, the "culture" of the household and the group of friends. And I think that is what is most important in creating a workable living situation.

Roommates need time to develop a culture, something that every visitor will recognize as the status quo. It most certainly implies that the culture of the house would apply to the visitor as well. You can sense tension in those houses where a culture hasn't manifested itself. Whether it is borrowing food, sharing the couch, or turning down loud music, a visitor will implicitly adhere to the code lest they be given a hasty exit. But the visitor needs to feel that code implicitly.

Indeed, when you attach yourself to a partner, you inevitably attach yourself to their roommates. Luckily, the ones I'm stuck with present me with an easily workable living situation. With that equation taken care of, I can get back to calculating digits of pi...

A Case For Elimination of the Monarchy

Okay, so I will now count myself fully as a member of the Barack Obama bandwagon. Here is a classic case of what happens when an charismatic speaker, a powerful message and a desire for change combine into a glorious clusterfuck of inspirational oratory.

Obama's Victory Speech

As a person who is undeniably happy with Canadian politics, this is one area which I think we can improve upon. When was the last time you heard a stirring speech from a Canadian politician? I can hypothesize a few reasons why this is such:

1. Canadians have less reason for a greater hope because we already enjoy a considerable high quality of life.


2. America, as a much more powerful nation, can support aspirations of a larger scope which hold a much more powerful grip on the heartstrings of the citizenry


3. Our current political structure disables patriotic musings and makes us skeptics of promises

Number one, I think, does an incredible disservice to the many Canadians who struggle daily to make lives for themselves and their children. As for number two, this could be partially true, but I don't believe that hope as a concept is confined to realistic expectations. Evidently, that leaves us with item 3.

As part of the Westminister style of government that Canada inherited from our British ancestors, we have a Prime Minister who is head of government and a Governor General who serves as the proxy for our head of state, the Queen. Since the Queen's representative, by custom, cannot really interfere with our rule, the Prime Minister has become a de facto figurehead for the country. But could the separation of these duties be beneficial to Canada?

A chief complaint of Canadian culture is, well, that we don't have any. There is very little Canadian identity partly due to the high percentage of immigration here and to our conservative nature internationally. The Prime Minister doesn't serve well as a rallying figurehead because he (or she for all the feminists) is closely tied to the political process. As the public, we are jaded because we sense an ulterior motive for his(her) posturing in the media or abroad.

Imagine if we had a President (or we could call it Premier to remove the negative connotations it brings). Think of a Canadian version of Obama. Smart, stately, and preaching an agenda of uniquely Canadian values: Peace, order and good government. Might we be a little less apathetic to selecting our leaders?

In an age where the ideological differences of the major Canadian parties differs little, I think an empowered Canadian President would reinvigorate Canadian politics. Elected political officials would need to serve as counterbalances to a strong Canadian head of state instead of just catering to popular issues of the day. Moreover, this could inspire the undiscovered shockwave this country needs: Canadian patriotism.

If you need to understand why I think we need a Canadian President, just think of Harper, Martin, Chretien, et al. doing Obama's speech in that video and laugh with me.

Does This Note Make Me Sound Fat?

"Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction...."

This line from the movie Fight Club really strikes home for me around Christmas time. Not that I'm ungrateful for what I have received. I know that I'm extremely privileged to be in one of the wealthiest nations in the world, in one of their wealthier demographics. I own lots of things. If I look to the value they have individually added to my life, they offer no significant improvement to how I live. Though, a wardrobe as a whole makes a difference versus a single pair of pants, nevertheless, whatever I own seems to be very deflating to me. And it's not because I have to move it all when I go to school.

But in all seriousness, I feel a strong affinity with the message of Fight Club. And please don't write off this article because I'm referencing that movie. While I don't prescribe an anarchist's viewpoint to dealing with the commercialisms of our society, I would agree that our societal priorities need some re-orientation.

Thoughts while moving out...

Because I'm moving out of my place in Ottawa, I decided to take a new approach when sorting through my things for packing. Ruthlessness was my motto. And I did accomplish some progress by ridding myself of a full bag of clothes and throwing out a bunch of useless papers. The sheer amount of clothes I owned really astounded me when I had assembled them in packing. I have never considered myself an incredibly fashion-conscious guy or anything but my massive wardrobe definitely told a different tale.

As I was doing this, I pondered the reason for having "fashion" in the first place. Does it serve a purpose? I suppose it differentiates us. Or perhaps it give an impression of someone. Does it serve a practical purpose? Not really. Apart from wardrobes for specific seasons or professions, Its use extends to allow us to identify the fashionable from the unfashionable, but not much else.

Fashion as Communication

For whatever reason, fashion itself has become a method of passive communication. Like it or not, what we wear is a statement about ourselves. No matter how qualified I am for the job, I would never get hired for a bank if I wore Crocs and an "I'm with stupid" t-shirt to the interview. Nor would that veritable suburban girl next door look at you if you were wearing decked out in Goth attire. My attractiveness in attire is directly linked to my value to the other party. In these articles of clothing are imprinted the very fabrics of our outer selves, but not of our inner beings. A similar parallel could be found in judging people by our skin colours, yet we do not openly condemn judgment of people's clothing ("fashionism").

Just like how my possessions deliver greater value to me as a whole rather than aggregated, so do these individual judgments of our appearance equate to the larger impression of ourselves. Unfortunately, these stereotypes that arise from fashion are taken for granted in life. Martin Luther King Jr. never said, "I dream of a day when we judge a man not by the colour of his skin, but by the cut of his slacks," but I could see me being turned down by a girl for that. Wearing slacks I mean.

Mmm pleasure...

When you think about our basest motivations to do things, evidently we seek out pleasure for ourselves. As cynical as it sounds, dressing ourselves up has no other reason than to impress other people. People enjoy dressing up because they know they can either dazzle someone with their fashion sense or at least be confident that they won't be judged negatively by someone else. Even the blind man dresses up and he doesn't even know what he looks like! If nobody cared what each other looked like, would there be impractical fashions anymore? Most certainly not. And you could bet that prices for clothes would fall in the interim. Everyone would dress like I would when I was hungover on a Sunday afternoon watching Simpsons. We are social animals who enjoy the gratification of other people's approval, to put it simply.

Lube Yourself Up

So self-improvement is masturbation, at least fashion-wise. We seek out other people's approval, because everybody enjoys a good rub or tug now and then. But at what point do you become that guy staying in on a Friday night to watch anime porn? Don't get me wrong, I'm as bad-ass a hypocrite you've ever met. I'd say my self-masturbation/fashion-consciousness level is somewhere at a "13-year-old who just discovered his dad's porn stash". I know it's dirty but it feels so good. But somehow, I know I have to change.

Re-orientation

If I could control all the cable TV programming, I would take those Free the Children commercials off the air. They make me feel so damn guilty. "For just 10 cents a month, you can provide running water to a village in rural Sudan". Damn, I say to myself. "This young girl could receive an education if you sponsor her for 20 cents a month" Crap, just spent it on a nice shirt. I could have fed a family for 3 months. Instead I bought a shirt to wear to my job interview. But I am no better for it. If I had helped the starving children I would be.

I rue the day I decided to pay attention to what I was wearing. But it's the uneasy reality we live in. We think we can make more of a difference if we buy the shirt to make the impression to get the job and get the girl to remain happy and make more money to give more away and make a larger contribution down the road. And I understand that sentiment because I feel it myself. I want to make a big difference not a little incremental impact when I give money to charities and such. Just imagine though if the money we spent on fashion was redirected to poverty-reduction measures.

Let's attach value in life to the merits and utility that people and possessions bring. Down with fashion, and down with the latest and greatest toys! Sure, it feels good to whack off like that, but it adds nothing to your life. The sad reality is that this masturbation of ours/fashion handicaps our ability to not only improve the lives of others but our own as well.

Dancing's Not About Fun No More

Okay, so I'm here to rant about the likeliest of all topics: the state of dancing these days.

It's just an issue I've been having with dancing in clubs/bars. So people are there to have fun with their friends. Dancing acts as the conduit through which they can do this. Maybe they'll get a little sloppy. Maybe they'll get a little lucky. Maybe both. And this tends to be the prevailing mentality for a lot of people.

Putting yourself out there for that meat market isn't the easiest sell. It hurts to get turned down. It hurts even more if your target runs the opposite direction. But I think that there is a pattern I'm seeing for rejection of an invitation to dance.

Sample Progression of Events for Rejection:

1. Guy/Girl notices partner from across dance floor


2. Guy/Girl sidles over to scope the scene


3. Guy/Girl initiates first eye or vocal contact with other


4. Guy/Girl makes motion to dance


5. Moment of panic by the pursued to rid themselves of pursuer


6. Guy/Girl rejects partner soundly

As we can see, things start to break down rather quickly around number 4. Talking with various persons, I can hypothesize only one reason for this breakdown. Aside from that fist-sized tumour on your neck, most people just aren't comfortable with the message they would give you due to the sexual nature of grinding. Now the rejection cuts deeper, because they are not only turning you down as a dance partner, but also a sexual partner. Our mode of dance is keeping us from making inroads with people.

Now don't get me wrong, I love dry humping some girl I don't know, or know, as much as anyone else. But it strikes me that this whole style of grinding is really holding back any good, wholesome enjoyment. As far as physical expression goes, dancing is the pinnacle. So what are we expressing when we decide to perform by sweating up and down each other?

I'm not saying there aren't good dancers anymore, and I'm not saying that it's unheard of for people to just dance around with each other either. What I am saying is that nowadays, to clubbers and dancers, grinding is the norm and not the exception. But c'mon, unless you're letting that special someone know exactly how you're feeling that night, the 'grinder' as a species is directed by its dancing.

Of course, pelvic thrusts could mean anything. I know when I get a girl straddling my leg. I'm thinking, "Hey, wanna talk?" Despite the sarcasm, I am one of the worst hypocrites. I've grinded (ground?) a decent number of girls in my day and don't plan on stopping any time soon. It has its place in dancing, just not as the primary dance form.

If dancing is an expression, an art form, then I'm a pretty terrible artist. But let me paint you this picture: Say at step #4, when Guy/Girl approaches partner and asks say, to swing dance, how more likely would it be for you to accept the proposal? A bit more? How about a conga line? While the goal for some people may be the immediate sexual gratification which is easier facilitated by grinding (especially while drunk), other potential meetings and friendships are thwarted by the sexually threatening nature of the dance.

I know this may do little to change the dancing scene. But the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I can only hope that one day, I will approach a girl at a club, dance with her, thank her for the privilege, and leave having met someone new. Maybe I had a girlfriend at the time. No sexual implication, just friendship and enjoyment. And this can only be accomplished by shifting to dance forms that emphasize our enthusiasm, enjoyment and skill rather than our libidos.

In the beginning...

Well, I felt it was about time to reach the masses with a blog separate from whatever notes I write from my Facebook account. This blog won't consist of regular postings, so I'll most likely have articles advertised through Facebook or some other way.

FYI, I'm going to re-post some of my facebook notes for everyone's viewing pleasure. Mostly, I'm concerned with the Facebook Terms of Use. Specifically, the section regarding user content states that while the user content is posted on their site, it is theirs to do as they please. Thus, I'm going to leave my first note up, but take the rest down and re-post them all here.

I'm a very spastic blogger (if I can call myself that yet), so don't expect any consistent themes or anything either. Just sit back and enjoy the ride - or close your browser window.