How to be Charming

I received a lot of compliments on the letters I wrote from Korea. Some people expressed sadness to see them stop. And while it was appropriate for the letters to stop, there are still times when I feel like sharing something – a thought, an experience, a moment from my life.

Those letters were as much about developing my voice and philosophies as they were about conveying the experience of living abroad. These days, I’m living in Vancouver. It’s far less exotic, but my life is not unexciting. And I continue to grow. My voice is stronger; I continue to discover new things about myself and about the world around me. I want there to be a chronicle of this time in my life. So here I go. I’m writing another document portraying my disposition at this precise moment in time, and later, I plan to make it public. I will once again be an open book. And I look forward to that openness. That honesty.

(Although, of course, there are some things I’m hiding.)

One of my biggest goals in moving to Vancouver has been personal growth. I want to increase my confidence. I want to be bold. When I try to explain this concept to my friends, it sounds abstract. And in some ways it is. But I also have some very specific ideas about where I’m trying to go. I’d like to share some of those ideas with you.

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Take Mom’s Advice
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For years I was frustrated with my mother’s advice. No matter the issue, her wisdom always seemed to boil down to “chin up.” Things will get better, hang in there, that’s the way it is... And I fumed. I wanted something tangible – something I could hold on to.

I have a few strong anchors in my life, but in general I dislike the weight. And while sometimes I feel lost at sea, I’d like to use a different metaphor that feels more accurate.

I picture myself climbing a wall of rock. Is it a mountain? I don’t know. A mountain implies that there is a top I could reach, and I’m not sure that there is one. Only I feel like I’m trying to climb, and I’m constantly searching for handholds. Sometimes, scrambling. Since I don’t know if the wall has a top, or sides, I don’t always know which way I should move. But sometimes, a direction looks interesting, so I climb that way for a couple of years.

When I feel lost, I ask people for advice. And most people are happy to oblige. Climb left, climb right, climb diagonal, stop moving. I expected my mother to give me directions as well, and to supply me with handholds along the way. I expected her to point out the easiest way to climb towards the top.

Sometimes she does these things. But they are not the main purpose of her advice. Instead, my mother is the sun, shining on that rock wall. While she shines, the heat gives my muscles strength, and I’m able to hold on longer. I have the luxury to look around, to admire the birds flying amidst the clouds. And while my arms are tanning, I have the strength to pull myself in the directions that I choose.

Without the sun, the world would go cold and ice would grow on that wall. My hands would go numb, and the handholds I reached for would be slippery with ice. The chances of falling would be greater, and I would not enjoy the journey.

Ladies and gentlemen, I need the sun.

The glass is half-full.

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Stop Being Sarcastic
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I am often identified for my wit. Which I’m quite proud of. In fact, it’s probably one of the things I define myself by. However, there are times when it is destructive. My particular brand of wit is often derived from sarcasm. I instinctually rip things apart.

I’m trying to change that.

I’ve identified a few different kinds of humour, and I’m trying to steer away from the negative ones. Let me give you some examples. Let’s pretend that I just watched my friend Joe swimming at the beach. And, well, to be honest, Joe can’t really swim. He splashes. There are a lot of different jokes I could make.

The best joke I could make would be to say something positive and mean something positive. I can make this funny by saying it in a unique or ridiculous way: “The best thing about being a shitty swimmer is it makes me feel a sense of brotherhood with all the other people in the world who can’t swim either. High-five, Joe!” Or, I could just give Joe a simple compliment: “Hey Joe, I know you were struggling out there. Good on ya for putting in the effort. Kick that water’s ass.”

The next best thing I could do is say something negative with a positive intention. For this example, let’s pretend Joe is a great painter who bought me ice cream for lunch. “Joe, the worst part about you being a bad swimmer is that you suck at everything else too. I mean, you’re a horrible friend – you never buy me ice cream – and the paintings you do are hideous.”

With all of the examples above, the intentions are positive. It doesn’t really matter what I say, the vibe is warm, and people will smile. They’ll feel good. On the other hand, let’s look at some negative jokes.

I can say something positive with a negative intention: “Joe, you’re the best swimmer I’ve ever seen. Your girlfriend must be super proud of you. We should, like, totally make a t-shirt for her.” This is sarcasm. And, unfortunately, this is usually where my instincts take me.

I can also say something negative, and mean something negative: “Joe, you really suck at swimming. I mean, you’re awful. If a lion had sex with a rock, its babies would swim better than you do.” This is called being a dick.

To most people, the jokes with negative intentions are probably funnier. I’ve noticed that these jokes get bigger laughs, but their cumulative effect on the group dynamic is less positive. And, when I mis-step, I can unintentionally hurt people’s feelings. They don’t usually say anything, but I can tell by the look in their eyes, and then I feel guilty. On the other hand, using positive jokes/comments creates a powerfully attractive atmosphere. Delivery is also a huge part of this. My delivery tends to match my intention, so when I mean something negative, it’s hurtful. When I mean something positive, it’s uplifting. I think this might be the key to being charming.

I need more practice at making positive jokes. Obviously, I endeavour to be snappy. And the first quip that comes to mind, for me, is almost always negative. Instead of just blurting those out, lately I’ve been trying to hold back and re-analyze the situation. I look for a way to spin the situation so that I can make a positive contribution. Sometimes I take too long and I miss the chance. Other times I say something that sounds stupid. And, occasionally, I still make negative jokes.

With practice, I will prevail.

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Talk to Strangers
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I’ve been in Vancouver for 4 months, and I haven’t made many friends yet. I have, however, had dozens of positive interactions with people I’ve met on buses, in bookstores, and in coffee shops.

Brazilians tell me that in their country, you can’t sleep at night because all the people are talking in the streets. I’m told that if I enter a Brazilian household, I will be repeatedly hugged and kissed. Within four hours I’ll be a part of the family. They tell me they feel strange in Canada because no one is talking to one another.

We read a short story in class about a man who sees his soul mate on the street, but doesn’t have the courage to talk to her. My Brazilian student told me, “In Brazil, this is impossible. Everybody talks to everybody else.”

People who have closely read my writing can probably tell that I’ve always been bothered by the invisible barriers between people on the streets. By the shields I feel pressing in around me. Sometimes I think people look interesting, and I just want to talk to them. I don’t know what to say, but I know they’re nice people, and in the right situations, we would surely get along. Since moving to Vancouver, I’ve been breaking these barriers with pleasantries. “Hi. How are you?” “I really like your jacket.” “Do you think it’s going to snow?”

I don’t have the confidence to do this every day, but on the days when I do I feel warmer inside.

The truth: talking to strangers is hard. It is. And one bad interaction can destroy the confidence I’ve won from ten positive conversations. It’s happened once or twice. A couple of bad interactions in the past were enough to turn me introverted for years. But I’m overcoming that. Or, at least, I’m trying to. Because it’s worth it. I like meeting new people, and I want to make new friends.

Sometimes the conversations don’t even have to go anywhere. I just feel richer for having spoken to a person, and I leave the venue smiling.

Is this making sense? I hope it is...

I’d like to end with one more anecdote. There’s a Brazilian girl in my class who is always smiling. She wants to hug everyone, and the first time she did, she scared the hell out of a Korean classmate. But still, she smiles. And she tells me that everywhere she goes, even in Canada, people start conversations with her. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not just guys, and it’s not just pick-up lines. Everyone wants to talk to this girl. This morning, after class, while waiting for the elevator she saw me approach and she smiled. “Teacher!” and she reached towards me with her hand.

Then she pulled back, and her smile turned down. She wasn’t sure if she should touch me. I smiled at her warmly, said hello, and patted her on the arm. It felt like the right thing to do.

I just hope it doesn’t get me fired.

Bill

What did she mean, "Hi" ?

A girl said hi to me today.

Let me be more specific...

A very attractive girl said hi to me today. What do you think, readers? Was she hitting on me? I'll give you more juicy details.

I was shopping on Whyte Ave with my sister, and she dragged me into this cheap gag gift store. I walked around, and I was aware of the incredibly attractive girl standing at the cash register. I walked around the store, and stared at the floor to keep myself from staring at the girl behind the register. I noticed she was watching me, but figured it was part of her job.

BUT THEN! As we were leaving, I flicked my eyes back at her, and she said, "Hi." There was a joyful note in her voice. I was already half out the door, and I could only see half of her head when I returned her greeting. Once I was outside, I wanted to go back into the store so I could continue the conversation. But I don't think that would have been socially acceptable. I mean, I'd just left. I couldn't suddenly turn around and go back in, could I?

I asked my sister if she'd heard the saleslady say hello to me, and she had, but she didn't realize the gravity of the situation.

"Did you hear how eager she was?" I asked.

"No," my sister said.

I think I might go back to the store tomorrow, because there is one thing that can't be denied: that girl and I had a connection. She's probably definitely my soul mate.

(Yes, obviously, I'm crazy. I know that.)

3rd Draft

Saturday Night Fever

A girl smiled at me tonight.

First I caught the glint in her eye
while I moved across the dance floor.
It cut though the fog like a knife.
Then I noticed the curvature of her lips,
bright between gossamer beams of red and green.

I was dancing at the time.

Any voice on a speaker is like a Siren in my ears;
it drags me to the clearing between tables and chairs,
and there I drown in treble and bass.
Under these delirious waves I find bliss,
freedom from judgment, freedom from pain, freedom to drunkenly dance.

When I saw her lips I faltered.

That unexpected curl cut my Kingdom apart –
it sliced through my defensive haze and wounded me.
I felt myself losing blood.
Suddenly I felt lost. I felt trapped by the music,
afraid of my fellow dancers and the night beyond the club.

I didn’t find a cure until she was gone.

It was sambuca, and fire.

*This is actually the third time I've posted this poem. There is, once again, a huge difference between the drafts. Look at me, revising, just like a real writer.

Oh, and if you haven't seen Dr. Horrible yet, DO IT NOW!!!

Hello Zone, here I come...

I am about to embark on the kind of glorious, Dionysian adventure that is trademark Bill.

I just thought I'd let you know...

One of these things is not like the others...

Rock Star! Porn Star! Movie Star! Book Star!

One of those things doesn't sound right. Maybe I'll never make it after all...

Staying in Town...

This week, my application to UBC was declined. Because I don't have six credits in "the English Language." I saw that requirement when I applied, but I foolishly assumed my forty-two credtis in English classes would cover it.

Apparently not.

No, in order to meet this requirement, a 300-level linguistics class is required. So, I'm not going to UBC. At least not this year.

Guess that means I'm stickin' round town. What will I do? Well, I don't know yet. I've been accepted to the UofA, but I don't know if I wanna go. I've been doubting a lot of things in the last week. I'm currently planning to stay in Edmonton, and get a job. You know, work hard and buy a big screen TV. That's what people do, isn't it?

Since I'm staying here, there are some other things I want to do. I want to get a story published in Notebook, and I want to get a play produced at NextFest. I might even try to get my novella published through NeWest Press by the end of the year. Shit, that's a lot of stuff.

I'd better get to work...

Gate of the South

It seems like I'm at Southgate at least once a week. I have cheques, and Southgate has bank machines, so I don't see an end to this relationship for the time being.

Let's change topics though. I really don't want to write an entire posting about a suburban shopping mall.

I am still, as a person, discovering things about myself. I think this is natural. I guess this never stops, this self-curiousity stuff. My recent ruminations have largely been about becoming more comfortable in social settings. Sometimes I can be quite good at that sort of thing, other times I falter.

The most recent was a mental block. I'm getting better at just expressing myself. Often, when I'm quiet and reluctant in conversations, I feel like I just don't know what to say. The key is that I can say ANYTHING. I don't have to try to find something witty all the time. I'm learning that it's okay to just actually say what I'm thinking. I've been trying to do this more lately. Obviously, some censorship is required, and that's another area I'm working on.

This works for writing too. I think I realize now why common advice for writers is to write everyday. It's not that writing everyday actually improves your writing, I think it's more that regularly writing just makes it easier for you to actually get things down - you become better at communicating. After long breaks at writing, I often find myself unable to write. Even if I have a lot of ideas, I just can't find the words, of I am reluctant to type something because I don't want to commit to it. If you're writing all the time though, then you become less attached to the things you write, and you're better able to find the good stuff and get rid of the bad.

I am getting back into writing again after taking a month off. I promised a few people that I'd let them read my Novel at the end of June. I've got a week left, and a LOT of work to do. I'm still a little stuck on that page, so I'm doing some other writing in the hopes that it'll loosen things up. I've started to re-work a short story that I started last year, and now I'm writing this blog. I also put my reading into overdrive. Something's gotta give.

I think this is working. This blog came pretty easily at least. It may not say things how I wanted to say them, but at least it SAYS SOMETHING. That's a huge step. It should be granted without argument that SOMETHING is better than NOTHING, so, you know, I've won that battle at least. Many more to follow.

Perhaps this revelation will spur me to start posting her more often: you know, like I keep threatening to do every couple of months.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, SOMETHING.

*dramatic flourish.

Between Drafts

My Novella, Fenris and the Flourishes, is being edited by a few friends right now. Well, I actually just asked them to read it, so hopefully they're doing that. I heard back from one of them - she had mixed feelings about it. I suppose that's okay. Afterall, it's not finished yet.

I have difficulty describing it, here are a few of the approaches I've taken:

- It's about love, life, death, and a giant wolf with three tails.

- Imagine if Zach Braff and Quentin Tarantino co-wrote and co-directed an English adaptation of the Korean film, The Host.

- There are a lot of characters. They're all sort of pieces of myself, but they also go to show a more complex picture of the issues by showing many diverse reactions which are all basically the same. Does that make sense?

I find it difficult to describe without actually walking people through exactly what happens. It's about mortality, trying to make it through life and focusing on what we'll actually think is important when we die. Time is a major theme - as a constraint, as a pressure, and as salvation. It's about trying to find love, wondering if you'll find it, and wondering if you'll know when you find it. Pressure to follow social norms also comes up many times.

At least those were some of the ideas behind it. I'm not sure how they came off in the execution. I'm still kinda proud of it. I'm excited for my readers to get through it, so I can talk to them about it and get to work on the next draft. I need to get back to doing some other writing though - which is why I decided to write this blog entry. I don't do these that often anymore.

Here's a band I'm loving right now. I can't find their CD anywhere though.