An Inimitable Game: the impossibility of artificial intelligence

I just saw the film The Imitation Game, about Alan Turing, fore bearer of cognitive science and artificial intelligence. First of all, let me say: SEE THIS FILM. It is one of the best I have ever seen. I was a wreck by the end of it. Turing was a genius and did so much for humanity and I just feel so scraped away and raw inside. So inspired. This film focused on his efforts in breaking the codes that the Nazis used in WWII. He was a genius, an enigma himself. 

I have to do something with my life. 

Damn.

Anyways.

I was (and remain) most familiar with Turing's work on the possibility of creating an artificial intelligence, having read Can Computers Think? and Computing Machinery and Intelligence during my undergraduate studies. In the work of his that I have read, he lays out a test for intelligence - the eponymous Imitation Game, also known as the Turing Test. He posited that, given the proper speed, amount of storage, and code, a digital computer could fool a human judge into believing that the computer itself was a human being. He was sure to reiterate that he was merely talking about the possibility of such a machine being created, and he had no reason to believe that this was not a possibility - after all, rudimentary digital computers existed in 1950, when he wrote Computing Machinery and Intelligence. For Turing, it was all a matter of memory and processing speed, something that the future would likely provide - the mechanics were already in place in his time.

I was (and remain) of the mind that we will never be able to create anything like strong AI. 

By strong AI I mean anything like sentience or consciousness. My reasoning behind this runs thus: Even the most powerful computer that can seem eerily like a human consciousness under the right circumstances is not consciousness. Take Jeopardy's Watson as an example. It seemed to have a personality, and certainly had the ability to respond to difficult trivia questions with an expertise that often outstripped its human counterparts. Surely someone who performed a Turing Test on Watson would be fooled into thinking it was a human. In my view, however, there is a difference between recalling vast amounts of preprogrammed information from a massive store and delivering it with a jocular preprogrammed personality and actually having intelligence. 

"But," you cry, "Aren't you being a bit chauvinistic with respect to your definition of intelligence? Doesn't defining intelligence necessarily preclude anything other than a human from having intelligence?" 

To which I reply, nope. I think a frog is more intelligent than the iPhone 7, or whichever one's out now. Yep, a frog. Probably even a fish. Humanity has yet to program anything with the intelligence of either. 

"Wait, what?" you cry, "What about all of the cool robots that exist? I hear about them all the time in the news."

I suppose my break from Turing's line of thought begins at the outset of his definitions of Machine and Intelligence. He defines intelligence as thinking, and he defines the mark of thinking as fooling a human into thinking that you're thinking (or, the Turing Test). 

To me, intelligence is so much more than this. Intelligence is consciousness. Consciousness is the ability to navigate through the world, to filter through billions upon billions of inputs and somehow selectively attend to just what's important. John Vervaeke, a beloved professor of mine from undergrad, would call this relevance realization. Though sentient beings can indeed become overloaded, we (and by we I mean all sentient beings, humans and frogs alike) have the ability to hone in on what matters to us, whether "matters" is defined as what's needed for survival, or if it's defined as what it takes to get that person from the other side of the room to notice that you exist. 

Furthermore, we can learn from what we encounter. (Turing's explanation for the possibility of a Learning Machine stems from the possibility of creating a child-machine that can eventually learn new propositions, but as I said, we have yet to program anything with even the intelligence of a frog, so I think a child is way out). 

I also believe that consciousness is necessarily embodied. 

"What?!" you cry, "Now, that's chauvinistic. Requiring a body for consciousness? That definitely precludes a machine from ever having consciousness."

Perhaps. But I believe that the experience of consciousnes is borne out of the physical/chemical dynamical system that is body-consciousness. I believe that all the aspects of the body (including the brain) - neurotransmitters, action potentials, hormones, proprioceptive system, sensory systems - are all required for the emergence of the phenomenological aspect of human consciousness. A programmer would need to program in all of these systems in order to achieve consciousness. Consciousness would have to emerge from these systems. Somehow.

"Somehow?!" you explode, "What the hell? Now that's a cop-out if I ever saw one."

Well. Yes. But if I had the answer to that 'somehow' I would know how to create consciousness. And frankly, I really don't.

Sentient beings are faced with billions upon billions of inputs, that require billions upon billions of decisions, every day. Inputs from the world, through every integrated system that we have in our embodied consciousness. Every second, our world, our inputs, our premises, change. We have to selectively ignore a great deal of extraneous information in order to zero in on what actually matters to our situation. Our world is messy and chaotic, every problem space has a million different paths to get from point A to point B. So far, as astounding as they are, the computers that we have still deal with discrete sets of data as input and discrete functions for decision making. A programmer would need the most giant RAM in the world and the fastest processor in order to approximate anything like relevance realization. And that would still be a pale approximation. 

It's not that a computer with the right processing speed, size of store, and coding could never be programmed to perform its functions rapidly in order to recall preprogrammed information, in order to present it in a way that answers discrete questions that are posed to it. A computer could definitely do that. They do, now. And they'll only get faster and built with more memory as time goes on.

But, that is not the game that we are playing. 

The game that we are playing is much more complicated than that. It is so much more than working with discrete pieces of input to perform discrete functions in order to churn out discrete outputs. It involves sifting through a messy world with constantly changing circumstances, and somehow filtering through it all and making some kind of sense of things, oftentimes with little to no direction or programming. 

How the hell do sentient beings do this? I have no idea. I don't think we ever will. It is an inimitable game. 

how do we engage in critical discourse with the willfully ignorant?

It hurts my brain to think that there are still people in this world who do not acknowledge the existence of racism, sexism, or any other systematic prejudicial institution.

You know the type.

"Feminism is bad for men! Why do you think men have to fight so hard for child custody?"

"People can be racist against white people too!"

"Feminists want superiority, not equality."

"I'm fine with gay people, I just don't want to see them being gay."

"I just don't see colour. We live in a post-racial world. I mean, Obama."

Now, there's a difference between people who are ignorant because of circumstance, and people who are willfully ignorant. There was a time in my life when I was ignorant of and oblivious to certain societal issues, and I'm sure that there are many more that I am currently oblivious to. But whenever I hear someone from a marginalized group tell me that my behaviour is problematic, I damn well listen. It's hard, and I feel like an asshole, but I know that it's the right thing to do. And it doesn't matter if I disagree or don't understand. Given the certain facets of privilege that I enjoy, obliviousness is built into the nature of who I am. It takes someone who doesn't enjoy a facet of privilege to point out that privilege in the first place. 

It's the people who flatly deny their privilege that make me want to tear my hair out. 

And they're everywhere.

How the hell are you supposed to engage with these people? Goddess knows that it's not the responsibility of marginalized groups to educate the majority, because it's frustrating and hurtful and can be very traumatizing. So who is responsible for educating them? Are they even educable? If they're so willfully ignorant, what's the point? Do we just give up, for the sake of our own sanity?

Hell no.

Yes, it's frustrating. Yes it can be fruitless to try to engage in debates with people who are so committed to wearing blinders. But all the same, I think it's important to stick to our guns. 

Of course, there's a time and a place. Getting in a tweeting war with an internet troll is probably not going to do anything other than make you want to vomit (preferably on the troll in question). Nor will it likely be worth your while getting into a shouting match with a white-hetero-cis-abled-male-etc about how the fact that they've experienced hardship does nothing to take away from the fact that institutional power structures exist. 

But there is a lot of middle ground between beating your head against a wall and giving up. Disengaging from a conversation does not mean disengaging from an issue. Just because you back away from a fruitless (and potentially damaging) conversation does not mean that you're a traitor to your causes. 

The most important thing is that we don't shut up in the grand scheme of things, that we keep talking about it, that we weave critical discourse into the very fabric of our lives, and not let one instance of willful ignorance do anything to dampen our convictions. 

Practice personal safety, count every victory, lean on your allies, and never let anything put your fire out. 

Small, dangerous, beautiful things

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I do to contribute to my own anxiety. Yes, there are sometimes environmental circumstances that exacerbate it, and perhaps I do have some strange body-chemistry thing going on that predisposes me to it, but at the end of the day I have to accept responsibility and acknowledge the fact that there is a lot that I do to contribute to my own anxiety.

It's been helpful to me to try to create a list of these little things that I do so I can be better aware of them. It's also been helpful to me to try to engage in activities that help relieve a little of the pressure, a trephination of sorts.

I'll share with you a piece of stream-of-consciousness writing that churned out of my head during a period of anxious energy.

I can't seem to shake the marvel at small things. Small, dangerous, beautiful things. Asking along the axis of my own existence. My line grows shorter with every breath. My hand draws more and more steady as the time of the killing draws near. I write in charcoal on the eyes of my enemies. I breathe in the fumes of their fear. I stand in the wake of no man. I quiver in no one's shadow, save the sun's, such a cool penumbral glow for such a bright hot star. I sense my unrealized sisters' sorrow in its rays. Like warm tongues on flesh, like needles in the crook of every elbow. Don't stop to think, just let it flow out of you like blood. Create a space for yourself in the midst of all that's been taken away. Take it back. Let yourself realize your worth. Let yourself understand the singular beauty of your mind. Create art. Destroy art. Let your creations be destroyed, just let go. Feel the freedom in giving in to the unknown. 

Passion vs. Addiction - thoughts on socially sanctioned obsession

The word passion, in the Romantic sense (and not romantic as in flowers and chocolates, but Romantic as in moodiness, demons, and emotion over reason), refers to an all-consuming feeling; being overwhelmed. There is a self-destructive edge to the word, which itself sounds so much like the bite of a knife blade or the hiss of an igniting fire.

Passion. 

In colloquial terms, we often characterize passion in a much more banal and pale sense. We talk about passion as being synonymous with love or even affinity. But passion is so much more than this. Passion contorts. Passion harms. Passion consumes like fire with a brightness that eclipses reason and forethought.

And yet, passion is sanctioned, even celebrated, in society. We yearn for it. We try our best to cultivate it. We describe the leaders in any field as having passion, and often view it as a requisite for success.

What is the difference between passion and addiction?

Like passion, addiction consumes. Like passion, addiction can make people willingly harm themselves in order to go just that little bit deeper, to get that little bit closer. Dancers dance until their bodies break. Musicians lock themselves in rooms until their records are complete. Programmers spend every waking minute in front of too-bright computer screens, trying to solve problems no one has even considered formulating. Artists and scientists of all kinds push away the ones they love and alienate themselves, all in the name of their craft or work. And of course there is a physiological component to passion, a rush of endorphins and neurotransmitters, the body's endogenous psychoactives.

Perhaps the notion of passion as distinct from addiction comes from characterizing passion as something that someone can share with others. In this sharing, the object of passion becomes something beautiful. The suffering inherent in passion gains meaning that can be appreciated extrapersonally. The dancer performs his piece to a loving audience. The musician releases her album to the world, bearing her heart and soul in a way that would not otherwise be socially acceptable. The programmer creates a piece of technology so revolutionary that it will change the way of the world as we know it.

But the addict is alone, even when surrounded by peers, even when sharing his passion with others.

What is the object of passion for the addict? What is the end game of the addiction? Is there something to be performed, something to be released to the world? Something beautiful to behold after so much suffering?

Perhaps passion is object-directed addiction. The object of passion can be shared with the world, cathected, purged. Passion burns around the core until the final result is pure carbon, a diamond. But for the addict, the passion burns and burns until it burns everything away.

coping vs. complying: thoughts concerning social change

The term 'coping' is used to describe an individual's ability to deal with adverse situations. A 'coping mechanism' is often illustrated as being a knee-jerk reaction to an adverse event that has the unconscious intention of protecting an individual from harm. On the other hand, 'coping strategies' are often characterized as being a more thought-out and consciously implemented method of dealing with adverse situations. I myself use the term 'coping' all the time, often in the context of an individual's progress in fortifying themself against the challenges of every day life.

Developing coping skills is very important. There is a lot in life that we can't control and it is important to learn to cope and manage undesirable events that are beyond the sway of our actions.

It is obvious that there is quite a bit that is (ordinarily) beyond the sway of our actions. Examples include the death, illness, others' actions (i.e. bullying or criticism), or being fired from a job. Of course one could argue that one does have a certain amount of impact on the aforementioned life circumstances, but for the purposes of argument, let us consider extreme cases in which individual actions can do nothing to alter the course of events. So, to rephrase, it is obvious that there is quite a bit that is (ordinarily) beyond the sway of our actions, to a certain extent.

How much of what we label as 'beyond the sway of our actions' is properly characterized as such? In other words, when does coping stop and complacency begin?

To choose an example that is close to my heart: The state of popular media and the way that it dictates what the ideal standard of beauty is. If someone is physically disabled, older, dark-skinned, larger-bodied, hairy, or exhibiting of any other characteristic that isn't lauded as desirable in our world, should this person develop 'coping strategies' to deal with the fact that they don't compare to the standard of beauty?

Or another example: The fact that the world we live in is made for able-bodied individuals. If someone is physically disabled, should this person develop coping strategies to deal with the fact that the world is typically not made for them? Should they develop coping strategies to deal with the fact that a large part of cultural life will be inaccessible to them for the rest of their lives?

Or, should these people demand an alternative? Does coping in some instances mean complacency? Shouldn't we expect so much more from society? When is it appropriate to, rather than trying to fit oneself into a societal mold, break the mold entirely by refusing to try to fit in in the first place?

Of course, complacency is not always chosen - in such instances, coping is necessary. Furthermore, people in positions of privilege (based on gender, race, sexual orientation, ability, SES, etc.) have more freedom to be subversive and mold-breaky than their less privileged counterparts. However, people with less privilege are often the ones who are being forced to fit into a societal mold that does not contain a space for them, and they're often the ones who would benefit most from a mold-breaking in the first place. Hmmmm. Coincidence?

I am beginning to think that we are led to believe that there is more out our control than there actually is. I am beginning to think that we are being encouraged to cope in instances where smashing would be far more appropriate.

disability in a post-Darwinian world

In class the other day, we had an extremely interesting discussion surrounding notions of disability. We were speaking about the International Classification of Functioning, Disability, and Health (ICF) which was implemented by the World Health Organization. We discussed the implications of this new understanding of disability, particularly its implications for occupational therapists. The ICF characterizes the notion of disability as fluid. One's level of disability/ability is determined by one's functional ability, which is in turn determined by various factors, such as impairments, environment, and personal factors like resilience. A consequence of this model of thinking is that the notion of 'ability' is much more nuanced and dynamic than conventional black-and-white characterizations of 'abled' vs. 'disabled.'

This spurred a more general discussion about what it means to be 'disabled' vs 'abled'. The class seemed to agree that there is a spectrum of ability on which everyone occupies a space. This got me thinking about whether or not there is a dividing line between abled and disabled. If everyone is on a spectrum, does that not imply that there is no 'disabled' and no 'abled'? Is there no dividing line? I raised my hand in class and spoke up about my discomfort with that notion. 

I felt somewhat insensitive saying what I said, and disclaimed that fact before carrying on, and made sure to acknowledge my privilege as an able-bodied and cognitively-able person. I said that perhaps our notions of disability are based around notions of what a body is 'supposed' to be able to do, from an evolutionary standpoint. Another student picked up the discussion and added that, while she agreed, she felt that society has moved beyond the point where we mark wellness by what our bodies and minds are 'supposed' to be, from an evolutionary standpoint. I agreed with her, saying that I myself would not be around were it not for the advent of modern medical technology. I added that I believe we are in a post-Darwinian world, in which human evolution has come to incorporate technology, assistive devices, and medicine.

I believe that the notion of disability from a Darwinian standpoint still exists - as in, one is considered disabled if one's body or mind does not function in the way that a completely healthy individual's body or mind would function. However, given that we live in a world where assistive technology and medication is the norm, perhaps such a notion of disability is no longer appropriate. However, something inside of me still wants to classify disability in terms of comparing it to a completely healthy individual. But how many of us are actually completely healthy? Where does one draw the line? Does a line need to be drawn?

After that discussion our class had the opportunity to hear three individuals with varying disabilities speak about their experiences. I learned so much from their presentations. One of the presenters was asked about her specific diagnosis, and she answered the question, but first shared that she did not think it mattered. 

This is something that I will carry into my practice - in reality, it does not matter what someone's disability is on paper. What matters is their level of function and their ability to participate in meaningful activities and enjoy life. Rather than classifying people into categories of disabled vs. abled, perhaps we can think more in terms of one's ability to live a meaningful life. Perhaps the label of disabled vs. abled matters less than I thought it did. 

I welcome conversation/debate on this topic. I especially am interested in hearing the opinions of people who identify as disabled/differently-abled. 

don't fall asleep

So school is very busy. And it will only get busier. For the most part I am deeply enjoying what I am studying. And it is very invigorating to be around so many bright young people.

Everyone I talk to about the issue says that I am getting closer to achieving my dreams. They tell me to keep working hard and keep believing that I can. Yet I can't help but feel some days that I am inching my way forward at best. 

I have such lofty ambitions for myself. And there's always the eternal question: Could I be doing more? The eternal answer: Of course. You always could. You could study more. Read all of the 'suggested' readings as well as the 'required' readings. Sign up for more committees. Sacrifice your social life. Sleep less. 

Where do I draw the line? How do I know when to stop pushing myself? Does trying your best to reach your dreams account for any downtime? If I spend time relaxing does it mean I'm not trying my best? If not, what is the golden ratio of exertion and relaxation?

In other news, I was falling asleep in a writing workshop the other day (not due to lack of interest, just exhaustion, I have not been sleeping well) and I started writing a stream of consciousness piece to keep myself awake. It's unedited save for the line spacing. I thought I'd share it with you.

don't fall asleep don't fall asleep don't fall asleep

stream of consciousness stream of pen fume of mood room of blood
brood of humans the human few the human crew developed people out of womb 

from the womb to the tomb eyes awake to drink the gloom 

purple shroom blue moon i am crooning at the moon 

i am crying at the sky i am keeping open eyes pry them open with my mind

keep them open with the time time is flowing through my life 

i am sleeping in the sky i am snoring on the tide ocean waves inside my brain

footprints on a sandy spine sandy beach and golden wine laughter sunlight and the tide

breathing deeply in the sand keeping glass inside my hand

crushing sand to make it glass crushing memories of the past

frame the picture in your head name the creature in your bed

using pain to stay awake using shame to feel alive

using blame to dry my eyes using noise to bide my time

dropped in the deep end of a new life

Non sum qualis eram. 

I am not as I was.

I am very interested in questions concerning identity. Though I am clearly the same person I was a month ago, in many ways I am now a different person. My days are different, my thoughts are different, the stuff of my very life and mind are different. My way of looking at the world is different. I have always been somewhat unstable during periods of extreme change. However, I feel right now that I am riding this wave rather than being sucked down by it. Perhaps just riding the crest tremulously, but really, there is such a fine, dangerous line between the crest and the deep. And isn't that what makes the wave so exciting? 

I am (cautiously) optimistic about the years to come. Upon returning from my trip, I almost immediately started school, pursuing a Master of Science in Occupational Therapy at U of T. What a whirlwind of a life I lead. I am all too aware of the fact that I have not yet even completed my first week of school, so I am perfectly open to the fact that I may get sucked down by anxiety and despair at any moment. But right now I am just whelmed, and not over-. 

The program is certainly intense - not even the first week is over and the assignments are already rolling in, the profs doling them out with such a casual air. But I am surrounded by bright, vibrant individuals. My goodness, it is wonderful to be back in school. I enjoyed my jobs dearly over the past year, and have enjoyed the working world, but I have always loved school and am happy to be back in this environment. I am so excited to learn. I am most excited about my neuroscience and anatomy course, in which I will get to explore the mysteries of the brain in greater detail (including working with cadavers, albeit in a much more forthright manner than Michaelangelo did, sneaking into chapel morgues to dissect the dead). I will get to learn to assist people in getting back to the lives that they want to live by aiding them in gaining back their ability to participate in the activities that are meaningful to them. Each day I hear more about bright, innovative, and passionate people who love their work, here in Toronto and abroad. 

I wade into the waters of this optimism cautiously. This is foreign to me, one so usually so pessimistic in the name of self-preservation. I can't see below the surface and the ground may drop off below my feet at any given moment, but I trust myself to use all of my strength to keep myself afloat and hold my head above water. 

and then there are the nomads and the people who live in caves

People actually live like this. Holy hell.

I knew it as a concept but never before now had met these folks in the flesh. I spent last night in an amazing hostel in the hills overlooking the Alhambra in Grenada. It was incredible. Not just because of the view and the general fact that I was there, but also because 90% of the folks who were staying at the hostel had been travelling for months on end with no end to their journey in sight, no 'home' or 'life to go back to.' Most busked, worked at hostels, or sold their wares to pay what little rent there was and buy beer, food, and other necessities. This is a life that can be lived.

I had the opportunity to quiz one young man about his life. He started travelling when he was 18, moved to Australia from the States, managed a restaurant, and in the past three years has been to Israel, Jordan, Greece, and now Spain, where he is working at the hostel I was staying at. Just, wild. When I asked him about his motivation, his reply was, "Because it's the truest truth I have ever known."

And of course this makes sense. Of course, upon meeting these folks, I was thinking to myself, "Man, I should just do this. What's stopping me?" Of course, I felt the urge to just drop everything and busk my way across the face of the planet. Or hole up in a cave somewhere.

But. But. There is some other voice inside of me that tells me that I would feel unactualized in this sort of life. This other voice tells me that, while travelling and living like a nomad would be incredible, I would not feel like I was doing enough to live up to my potential as a contributing sentient being. Of course, this is not to say that the nomadic life is without its unique challenges, or that these folks do not make an impact on the world around them. They were wonderful, warm people. It's just that I think I wouldn't feel satisfied and fulfilled.

But what do I know? For all I know, this concept of self-actualization through hard work is something that has been drilled into my head so that some capitalist can make money off of me, or because this is the way my parents were raised and so in turn raised me. Yes I feel this way, but why? And yes, I know that travelling for my whole life would be immensely satisfying, but why do I feel that living like a hippie nomad would not be enough for me? Is this just something I'm telling myself to justify my decisions?

I don't know. All I know is that I want success in a fulfilling career, and I want to travel the world and experience everything I can. And so I seek to carve out my middle path, to satisfy these two (opposing? I hope not) aspects of myself. I hope to achieve both goals: to travel and see the world, and to choose a career that allows me to make a positive and significant impact on the world around me.

Instead of dropping everything and living with the nomads in the hills in Grenada, I am returning home to start grad school on Tuesday. I embark on the next leg of my journey, with the world beckoning me like an open hand.

these are not things reserved for someone else's life

I used to be the kind of person that would see other people doing amazing things, and say to myself, "That's what other people do - this is not for me." Things like scuba diving, playing guitar in front of a crowd, travelling for work, living by the sea - these were all things that other people did. I am now making the slow transition to becoming one of those people that says to themself, "What good reason do I have to not go after this?"

Here in Torremolinos, Malaga, my wonderful and warm hosts, Angie and Adrian, live in a gorgeous casita right on the southern coast of Spain. You can literally see the Mediterranean Sea from their terrace. Oh yeah, they have a terrace. It's spectacular. Malaga itself is paradise. It's all whitewashed stucco casas with terracotta roofs, bougainvillea and hibiscus rambling up the walls, sun streaming into every window, the sound of a lively plaza and the crashing of the sea intermingling to create a marvellous symphonic cacophony.

Angie and Adie are all about affirmations. They say that one of the reasons that they've been able to get to this point is because of positive affirmations and channeling intention.

I've always wanted to live by the sea. So now I say to myself, when I settle down, I will live by the sea. I will be able to run into the ocean at a moment's notice just because that oceanic feeling strikes me. And I also say, I will learn other languages to facilitate my movement through and around this amazing world of ours. I will work hard to achieve the things I want.

I will live the life that I once would have looked at and said, that's something other people do.

overjoyed with no one to talk to but myself

Travelling alone is amazing. This is the first time I´ve ever done it and it´s fabulous. The weirdest thing about it is completely exploding with joy and having no one to tell. Usually I just find myself gasping and laughing to myself, uttering exclamations of excitement to the air around me. And everyone else who is close enough to hear.

I wish it were appropriate to talk to strangers, moreso. I mean, it´s tough when 75 percent of the people around you speak completely different languages. But all the same, exclamations of joy are decipherable in any language. Luckily I am very gregarious and I´ve been able to meet lots of cool people with whom I can share my enthusiasm while only causing minor annoyance.

Also I´ve been able to practice not only my Spanish but my French as well, as two of my roomates at my hostel are from Paris. I keep mixing up my languages. My cousin Sean said the most insightful thing about learning languages that I have ever heard. He learned Spanish when he went to stay for many weeks in his friend´s village in rural Mexico so he´s a trusted authority on the subject. The word ´fluency´ has the word ´fluid´ as its root, and that´s the way that one should approach language. Let it pour out of you without thinking too hard on proper conjugations or subject-object agreements. That´s what I´ve been doing and though I´m sure I sound like a bit of a heel I´m okay with that. Folks are really nice about letting me practice.

Barcelona is possibly the best city in the world. I know, I know, I haven´t been to every city, but honestly, it would be so hard to top this city. I am just in a constant state of mind-explosion. In a good way. So many advetures and it´s only been two days. My best decision so far was to randomly join a bike tour group. I walked past them in the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter) right before they left and I raannnnnn to the bike shop to hook myself up with one. Best. Decision. Ever. It is SUCH a good way to see the city. Plus it helps the Barcelona is practically made for cyclists. So many more adventures but that was definitely the highlight.

So thank you, reader, for letting me pour my excitement all over you. That sounded bad. Oh well. I really appreciate it.

comfortable and strange at the same time

Can't believe it but I'm in London. England.

I feel comfortable and strange at the same time. I keep having sudden realizations that no, I'm not home. In fact, I am thousands of miles away from home. An ocean away in this old, old place. Despite every street dripping with antiquity, I walk them with an air of familiarity. Perhaps this could just be a posh, older section of Toronto... But no, wait, that building has been around since before my country was a 'country'. Oh my.

I think this weird level of comfort has to do with the fact that I know that everything and everywhere is English. As in, the language. So I don't have to worry too much about getting lost because I can always ask for directions. But at the same time I am such a foreigner. I gawk at everything. I say things like 'bin' and 'lift' and giggle to myself. I die repeatedly at the cuteness at little British accents from little British children. The streets and buildings fill up my heart with a romanticism that is perhaps completely lost on the locals. My wonderful hostess Sam has so far put up with my enthusiasm and giddiness and has been a saint, taking me around to revel in all of these amazing places. Tomorrow I venture out on my own for the first time. I am excited and nervous and so so so grateful to be here.

Everything is amazing. I am here. The realization hits me like a double-decker bus.

when you feel like your life is not your own

Sometimes I can't believe that the life I am living is mine. 

The future remains a concept, always, until it's actualized. There is an inverse relationship between the scale and the real-seemingness of a future event or endeavour. For example: Tonight you have to do laundry and then make dinner, perhaps eggplant parmesan. This seems very real and like it is actually something that will happen. Versus: Tonight you're going to embark on a three-week journey across Europe, and then start graduate school. This seems like it's someone else's life and not at all like something that will happen to you.

Tonight I leave on a three-week journey across Europe, and then I start graduate school. This is my life. Even though I type the words and use the"I" to claim these events as mine, it still doesn't feel real. With travel, especially, events don't even feel real while they're happening. I'll be in a foreign land in a dream in reality. It's strange and wonderful. The irreality of being in a foreign land in no way takes away from my ability to weep tears of joy and revel in the experience, however. 

I drink things in. I soak in them. I revel in them. I love experiences, I love adventures. I want my life to be full of adventures. I want to travel for work. I want to learn things about the way humans function, the way the brain functions, this mystery inside of our skulls. I have so many ambitions that I hope are not ill-founded. 

For now, I walk around in a daze, wondering if this is really my life. How could someone be so lucky?

moving in and out of each others' lives

Are you lucky if you're one of those people who loves their job?

I was one of those people until about six hours ago. It still hasn't hit me that I'm not going back.

It's baffling to think about how freely we move in and out of each others' lives, all of us. I often think about people I knew and loved in the past, and I wonder, what are they doing? how are they feeling? who are they now? We change in so many fundamental ways throughout the course of our lives and yet somehow maintain a tenuous yet unrelenting grasp on this thing called identity. I wonder if this nebulous nature of self is what contributes most to the flux of our relationships.

Am I who I was this morning, even?

In my work, I have had the privilege of having had some sort of positive influence in the lives of young people, people whose lives were, up until today, very much intertwined with my own. People who I saw every week, nearly every day. People who I will not likely see again. Exeunt. 

I think back to my own recovery process, and the supporters who have moved in and out of my life throughout. I always will carry pieces of them inside of me, pieces of their wisdom deep in the folds of my brain and channels of my heart. I only hope that I have been able to leave seeds of compassion, enthusiasm, and hope in the minds of those with whom I worked.

Their cards and messages bring tears to my eyes, happy tears and sad. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to touch peoples' lives, even in a small way. And while everyone seems to have faith in my success in my next endeavour, I am not so sure.

What lies ahead for me? Will it be as fulfilling? Am I unrealistic to want it to be more fulfilling? Will I be able to encompass more of my desires in my next move? Will I be satisfied with anything less? Why do I feel so uncertain?

Foraging for Roots and Grubs

"I think this is an alarming trend, Bethany, this whole 'passionate' thing. I'm guessing it started about four years ago and it's driving me nuts. Let's be practical: Earth was not built for six billion people running around and being passionate about things. The world was built for about twenty million people foraging for roots and grubs." 
- from The Gum Thief, by Douglas Copeland


Sometimes that whole foraging for roots and grubs thing sounds kinda nice.

I mean, it's so daunting; creating and cultivating a life that's worthwhile, fun, fulfilling, meaningful. Finding occupations you can feel passionate about and riding that wave until death takes you over the edge. But it shouldn't be. Daunting, that is. Should it?

The prospect of finding a career path that satisfies you to your core - this is the mandate of my generation. We travel in the wake of our parents' seemingly foolproof axiom: Work hard and you can do anything you want to do. Is this something they truly believe for us, or is it something that they wanted for themselves? Is there a place for this ethos in the modern [Western] world?

I am at a transitional period in my life currently, and historically, I have not been too good about keeping healthy during transitional periods. So I'm keeping a close eye on myself. 

In just under a month I start graduate school. I stumble forward with the reckless energy of a nearly-fumbling flow-state. I use positive self-talk daily and give myself pep talks in the mirror, "You can do this, you've got this, just work hard and you can do it, difficult is not impossible," willing my cognitive faculties to tame the anxiety in my chest. The future sucks me in and I follow with a perfect mix of excitement and apprehension.

My mission is to carve out a path that encompasses all of my desires. I want to run around being passionate about everything that I can - my career, my relationships, my world, my next meal, my next sentence. I must be supremely naive or supremely ambitious - or somewhere in between. I suppose that this blog is a public record of my attempt at figuring this out. 

I feel so gargantuanly (is that even a word? spellcheck does not seem to think so) self-centred for writing this and putting it on the internet. But what the hell. Perhaps someone will find it amusing/helpful.