20 Ways To Improve

 
Hello my internet friends! I just wanted to pop in very quickly to share an activity that could change your life. It's very simple and much more rewarding than most Facebook surveys. ;) It goes like this:

Brainstorm a minimum of 20 ways you can improve your life circumstances.  Don't stop until you get to 20.

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+21. (If you're feeling especially in the mood for change =-)

As clever as I am, I cannot claim credit for this activity! It was taken from one of my favourite feel good personal development sites. I hope you had some fun in doing that - and that you got to 20! There are a lot more templates where that one came from, so if anyone is looking for some great, empowering writing activities please let me know. :)

Leia Mais…

Memories Of Days Gone By: Episode II

After enjoying writing my first memories script, from the depths of me to you, my reader, come my memories - again. ;)

This time I'm going to group them for more convenient retrieval, by places.

Let's start with the:

The Front Yard: 

I remember there was a large stone, forever it sat there in the dead centre of the yard only to be moved when grass cutting took place. When the grass was cut, it always revealed to the world the colony of creatures living under it.

I remember there was always one big crow that would chase away the blue jays. My father would often go out onto the front porch and scream at it. I took to screaming at it as well, although I'm not sure why as I secretly rather liked that big crow.

I remember the bleeding hearts that grew next to the house and how my mother would always warn me not to eat them as they were poisonous. I had never considered doing such a thing until she warned me not to. After thorough consideration though I still did not eat any and here I am today. :)

I remember the Christmas lights and how they'd be strung out on the monsterous pine tree that we have in the front yard. How I got so excited when the lights were on, and how proud I felt that our yard was lit up so beautifully.

I remember running to the picture window of our house that looks out onto the front yard and during thunder and lightning storms watching in awe as bolts of lightning streaked through the sky and counting the time intervals in between claps of thunder. I'd often prop myself up onto the davenport, chin on hands, mouth surely agape, taking it all in.

I remember hearing a story of my older brother and how he accidentally slurped a noodle through his nose. At the time and/or now as I recall this story I imagined that he ran around the front yard screaming as it happened.

I remember making a super big snowman in the front yard with my father, older brother and older sister and how much fun we had doing so. It had a carrot for it's nose and an old toque for it's hat.

I remember the tulips that would grow around the lamp post in the spring. My mother told me that my father loved gardening and then and there I told myself that I'd love gardening too when I was older.

I remember the odd bird that would fly into the living room picture window. The "thud" sound. Me thinking of a solution and then never finding one... only to hear the thud again several months down the road, trying to think of a solution and then never finding one... only to hear... well you get the point. 

The Garage: 

I remember the garage always teaming with earwigs and dreading opening the swinging, creaky metal door as I knew that they'd come raining down. I always planned my escape route and due to that strategic planning and a knack for running fast to date I was only victimized by less than 10 earwigs.


I remember the old tree next to the garage and how it went up and onto the garage. I climbed up onto there with my brother once and felt like I was on top of the world, seeing a perspective completely unimagined minutes beforehand.

I remember how the temperature gauge that hung on the garage had several holes in it from my older brother playing around illicitly with the pellet gun one day.

I remember how the tobaggon would sit on the very top of everything during the summer months.

The Fire Pit

I remember that we had a fire pit in the back yard that we used a few times. I clearly recall that we had a hot dog cook off one Canada Day and how much fun it was.

I remember years after wondering if we actually did have a fire pit as grass and shrubbery grew over the spot where it once existed, leaving only the memories.

The Garden

I remember being able to pick strawberries, blue berries and raspberries from the garden and immediately chomp on them.

I remember that immediately across from the strawberries was an overhanging of plant growth that smelled sickly sweet when one entered.

I remember the yellow wheelbarrow and the wheelbarrow rides that we'd give one another.


Well folks, it's late here and the memories aren't flowing as one who is writing a post on memories would like. So until next time keep on using your brain's recall function. It's free! :)

Leia Mais…

Memories Of Days Gone By

The idea for this post was taken from a friend's blog. The idea was to write down all of one's memories of childhood and times far gone so as to have them on record.

I thought it was a magnificent idea and that I would do the same. 

Having lived in China for the last four years I have disassociated myself with many things that would cause me to think of childhood memories, ie: familiar places, faces, smells, sounds, etc. It is, in these next paragraphs my attempt to rack the hidden spaces of my brain and soul to recall those past times. 

So here goes, in no particular order, unedited and fully emotionalized:

• I remember when the leaves in the ditch in front of my house would pile onto one another, soggy and smelling of only the smell that smelly leaves in the fall can have. I would pile them up in front of the culvert, for secretly I had always wanted to crawl into damp darkness of the culvert but never dared to. Piling the leaves in such positioning saved me from having to make the choice. 
• I remember one Christmas morning waking up and everything felt so fresh. I ran around and rang the bells that hung on the doorknobs, feet bare on the floor, taking in the smells of early morning Christmas. 
• I remember in grade 3 making the coolest looking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle out of those connecting blocks at recess and everyone thinking I was so cool. At the time I was surprised I had been able to pull it off as at home I was only allowed to watch Sesame Street and the like. Making big birds out of building blocks would've been easy but may have not garnered the same awe and respect from fellow students. 
• I remember one summer's day going to the Bunbury strawberry festival and winning a Bunbury Tshirt that was 4 times too big for me. I wore it nonetheless and felt so proud of my Tshirt. That same day I went over to my friend's Darrell's house and got a bag of beef flavoured Noodles from his mom. Best. Day. Ever. 
• I remember venturing into the dusty and spider filled clubhouse in our backyard only to have the door close and lock behind me and my older brother C relentlessly poke me with sticks from both windows from the outside. I can still feel the feelings of utter helplessness and fear. 
• I remember the time at the construction site where the older Stewart's live on Carriage Lane finding the goldmine of 20 or so empty pop bottles. The guilt at the time was drowned in the excitement and ensuing sugar high of buying hundreds of one cent candies. 
• I remember when Lo Foods was Lo Foods. It was summertime and I was in the store with my mother and younger sister D.  I spotted 20 dollars on the ground at the spot where the cashier was. I picked it up and looked around to see if there was an owner and then looked at my mother who let me keep it. I immediately went to the candy bin and with my younger sister D we picked the kind of candies that you weigh in those see through plastic bags. I still remember us popping candies as we turned the bend at the Rankin Park complex. 
• I remember shopping carts always jutting out at different angles from the pond that was next to Rankin Park. (Who would go and get them out?!)
• I remember my deep fear of Rankin Park, always walking quickly by to avoid eye contact with the place and anything that may live in there. 
• I remember my walks down Carriage Lane with Taboo and waving to the man in the red van. He would always wave back and I always felt soo good when he did. I learned later on that he passed away - from what I'm not too sure. 
• I remember old man Peters from across the road giving me a plant to bring home and give to my mother. I was so happy to be the carrier of this gift and had thought that my mother would be tickled pink with delight as to receive such a nice gift. She had quite a different reaction, refusing to accept it and putting me in the position to return it to him. Head down, terribly embarrassed and really rather confused I did just that. 
• I remember in April of every year in walking home from the bus stop that the melting snow in front of the Carlton's yard was always mixed in with eggshells and chicken bones. 
• I remember racing the Carlton boy on my bicycle down Tanton Drive when I was about 7 or so. I remember clearly winning and to this day still think that I won fairly. 
• I remember the way the stars would come after a hot summers day. How fresh and high they'd be in the sky. The smell of the summer's air and the feeling of ease it always brought to me. 
• I remember when doing my paper route the joy I would take in thinking of myself as a 4x4 all terrain vehicle - walking over grass, dirt, snow and all other obstacles thinking that having two legs connected to two feet with a good pair of shoes was really unstoppable. I still feel this way. 
• I remember how creepy I always thought the sales people at Radio Shack at the Charlottetown Mall were. 
• I remember making friends in grade one with a girl name Terry. We agreed to be good friends one day on the schoolyard by the jungle gym but then soon found out that girls and guys in grade one ideally don't befriend one another. We went out separate ways and to this day have never spoken again. 
• I remember how in grade 3 when I was on the top of a snow pile my big brother pushed me down forcefully, kicking snow on me as his friends stood in the background laughing. I felt really let down. 
• I remember the taste of cream cheese and strawberry jam sandwiches and how we'd make large batches for the potlucks for church on some Sundays. I don't remember church at all, but the sandwiches I do. 
• I remember in grade 6 being extremely sick but going in and doing my science fair presentation on Static Electricity anyway, mucus, popcorn, balloons and all. After doing huge amounts of prep and practice I easily won the first prize but ended up splitting it with the handicapped girl in the class who I believe hadn't even completed her project. That was when I started to understand the flawed school system of purposely special attention to those with handicaps. 
• I remember waking up early just automatically and going down to watch the cartoons. My younger sister D would often join me. On some mornings if it was especially early I'd find my father in his beige bathrobe sitting in the living room in his reclining chair all quiet and such, wondering what he was doing. Now I know that he was meditating. 
• I remember dipping fingers into the bird baths on hot summers days when the grass was freshly mowed wondering how many birds had drank that day. I also always remarked at how the grass grew long around the very edges of the bird bathes - as the lawn mower could not reach those limits. 
• I remember saving up and buying my first CCM bike from Canadian Tire. It cost $220.00, an unthinkable amount of money back in that day. I was racing down Mason road one day and when cornering really quickly into a driveway I discovered that one needs to slow down first before turning and spun out of control - hitting the asphalt and rolling, propelled by some force, rolling again and again on the asphalt. I felt so let down by my bike, so frustrated as I got up, scraped and ashamed I walked bloodied home never to tell this story until now. 
• I remember how excited I was every time that Irene came over to pay my mother a visit, for visitors were very seldom. I would walk around the house with them as they talked about the plants and flowers, basking in the morning sunlight and enjoying the feeling of my mother's friendship with Irene. 
• I remember how excited I was sitting the back seat of the Taurus station wagon with my little sister D driving to Montreal. Our level of excitement did not wane for the entire drive as we waved at motorists from our special perch in the back. 
• I remember walking down East River Drive with Gent and my friend Kyle Garland. Gent started barking loudly at a middle aged woman who exclaimed loudly "Put a muzzle on him!" To which I quickly replied without due thought "Why don't you put a muzzle on?!" The lady was shocked. Kyle and I kept on walking in hysterics. I think this was when we were 15 or so. 
• I remember clearly walking towards the Quik Pick when I was 9 that my entire life was out of order. How I wished when I was older that I would be tall, handsome and charming. How I wished people that people would like me. Suffice to say that little JK would be most pleased with the results of big JK. :) 
• I remember playing basketball in the torrential rain of a summer's thunder and lightning storm. Calling it "rain ball" and having such a good time together getting wet and throwing a ball around.
• I remember talking to the horses on Clifton for 10 minutes at a time, finding them such avid listeners. 
• I remember eating those "honey" flavoured flowers at the coaxing of my older sister D. 
• I remember having a whispering competition with my older sister D and whispering the word "elephant," her getting it right and me lying saying I didn't say "elephant" to avoid a sure loss. 
• I remember watching America's Funniest Home Videos on summer nights with my little sister D. 
• I remember when I was 7, the feelings of fear I had when I thought my family had abandoned me at Victoria Park. The feeling of adventure as I walked back home, the feeling of quenching thirst as I stopped for a glass of water at the drive thru window at Wendy's by the bridge and the feeling of accomplishment as I rounded the turn into our driveway - just to have the feelings go full circle and have the feeling of fear instantly return as my mother and father ran out of the house towards me. 
• I remember when my Uncle Andre visited and we sat outside on the picnic table, the plates of burger patties, processed cheese, tomatoes and pickles. The bottles of mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise and relish. The smell of smoke from Andre and his wife mixed with exotic smelling perfume. How I felt so much love and interaction with everyone at the table that day. 
• I remember once in the basement when the entire family was watching David Suzuki's Nature of Things on "Genes" I found it fit to make a joke in reference to my "jeans," the ones I was wearing. Nobody found it funny and I was told to shut up. I felt immature and excluded. 
• I remember going to the "Armchair Travel" group at the Confederation Library as a kid on Sundays and seeing so many foreign people, tasting foreign food and having such a fascinating time. No wonder I am where I am now. :) 
• I remember how there was a free KFC sandwich special at the Library and if you took out 5 books you would get a free sandwich. Our entire family took advantage of the situation and we had chicken sandwiches for several weeks on end. It was like going from a drought of fast food (never really having eaten it before at the time) to a flood of flavour packed, brain numbing, tongue tingling fun. And then drought again after the offer ended. 
• I remember Fudge-e-o's (or however they are spelled) and Oreo's after a hard fought eating of a meal (we would often have HUGE portions and rather strange blends and mish mashes of food). 
• I remember how my father would come home with a different joke everyday from work, with one of them one day being the classic: "what is black and white and read all over?" Can you guess? ;)

I'm going to write until here today as my brain is asking to return to reality. Fair enough brain, you win this time. But we'll be back for more childhood memories soon. 

Until next time, little JK is out. :) 

Leia Mais…

Digging up the Past

Written in January of 2006 when I was in Ukraine, this piece of writing I find both highly amusing and symbolic of a time of great personal growth when I was in my early 20s. 

Enjoy: 

Found in Translation

This day marks a victory unlike any other won. One not fought with
sharp blades or bullets, blood or tears but a simple dish rag and
steadfast determination.

In a country of changing technologies, changing politics and changing
youth I sat in the kitchen of a small town with a spoon in my hand and
food in my stomach. The fridge churned and the kettle groaned on the
old oil stove as steam rose from its aged figure. Across the table sat
an older lady, a tired lady, a lady who held a million stories. For
weeks I had lived startled in a country with different sights, smells,
sounds and tastes, for weeks I had been treated so very kindly, meals
were prepared for me, my dishes washed and my clothes cleaned.

In this kitchen I sat, spoon in hand, stomach full, thinking back on
the times when I had offered my help and they were immediately
refused. The times when I had offered once more and also refused,
these times were all the same as I took the easy route, I accepted
these refusals.

In a country of changing times, changing politics and changing youth
one thing has not changed, the roles of women and men in the house.

I stood up, taking the dirty dishes to the sink. The lady across the
table seemed perplexed, and she immediately told me "Oh no, I will do
that" in the tongue of her country. Tonight was going to be different,
the thoughts and roles would be washed by my hands. I looked her
softly in the eye and said in the broken little known language "No,
thank you, I can." She reached for the dishes uttering in disbelief
"No, no, you can not;" "I can, its fine." Knowing not what else to do
she offered a "Thank you" in awe and retreated to the living room.

I turned on what was only cold water and started down this unchartered
path, carrying a large smile. Not so soon, apparently this lady had
backup as her astonished 17 year old grand daughter rushed in offering
to take the dishrag and I offered a "Thank, but no thanks" in return.
This was curtly rejected by her wagging hand motioning, make that
demanding for the dishrag and her intent eyes pleading.

 With an unexpected motion she snatched up the rag from my unknowing
hands. My arms crossed and my eyes grew sharp and unbudging, my feet
firmly planted. The sound of the cold water splashing on the dishes. I
told her that I would never move, she said nothing but moved neither.
Minutes passed, both unbudging, water splashing. I pointed to the
water and showed how it was wasting away with the time, she pointed to
her newly acquired dishrag, smiling. I smiled too, but because I saw
my trophy. Out of the corner of my eye sat behind a forgotten teabag a
lump of green washpad. It was worn as it had seen many dishes in its
life, blackened and beat, trying to retire. I wasted no time in
snatching it up, at closer inspection we could both see it was
absolutely filthy, with this my smile grew bigger, hers receded.

I lunged for the soap and raising it to the pad she realized she had
met defeat. Her hands flew up as she handed me the dishrag and sat
down bewildered by what had just happened. I finished the dishes,
shutting off the water and turning around. She watched as if she had
just seen this for the first time, and I think she had. I explained to
her in the broken language and with many gestures that we were the
same and if I sat to eat, I rose to do the dishes. She replied, "This
I like very much" and ran back to the living room to fill her
grandmother in on what had just happened, time passed and I heard them
chatting fervently with each other.

In finishing cleaning the kitchen I walked through the living room on
route to my bedroom. With huge smiles and the brightest of eyes I was
stopped and offered two very warm "Thank you's." It was perhaps the
best prize I had ever received for such little work. Maybe my
continued efforts will go unnoticed, but my hope is that they will
perhaps change if only a few minds on the embedded thoughts of
centuries past.


This journal entry is dated from Mid December, published with my
desire to expose the gender inequality in Ukraine today. This is only
one instance, and there are far more where a similar situation played
out. It is of great importance to strive for equality for the moment
you start delegating roles is the same moment where you rise yourself
above another.

I spent Ukrainian Christmas (January 7th) in Kolya's native village
which is 20 minutes from the major central Ukrainian city of Cherkasy.

Here are the points I recall about Ukrainian Christmas:

1.      Ukrainian Christmas is by the Orthodox Calendar, therefore on the
7th of January.
2.      Santa Claus is called Father Frost
3.      13 traditional Ukrainian foods are prepared for Christmas
4.      There traditional foods are left at the end of the night for the
spirits of yesteryears to snack on while we slumber
5.      Church is a long affair, having to stand for five enduring hours
(Luckily I only went for the Christmas mass part and stood for two).
6.      Expect carolers at any given time, it has turned into a Halloween
of sorts with the little tykes demanding sweets or money for their
sung melodies. Then again, they seem to work harder then just saying
"Trick or treat."
7.      Usually one farm animal can expect to lose its life at the expense
of Christmas dinners (sadly to say Ol' goosey got the axe this time
around).
8.      Christmas trees are Charlie Brown style making Canadian trees look
extraordinarily extravagant.
9.      Gifts are traditionally given on New Years, more so than Christmas
eve or day.
10.     Unlike Canada, stores are open and buses run as usual, as is said
"If there is money to be made, they will make it."
11.     On an unrelated note, It cost the equivalent to $10.00 USD to
travel 9 hours each way (18hrs total) to Cherkasy by passenger train.

Last week for our weekly Educational Activity Day we visited a primary
school to participate in a class with the children of grade five. The
school and children were warned ahead of time and apparently had many
things planned for us, and our planners for this day said they were
very anxiously awaiting our arrival. Before I unravel the events, I
would like to explain I live in a small town, a town where some people
live their whole life and die without meeting anyone not Ukrainian.
The Ukrainians in our group explained that they still remembered their
first time when they saw Canadians and how big of a deal it was. As we
arrived to the school and the first Canadian stepped in the doorway
sheer pandemonium broke out, kids stopped in their tracks, books
descending to the floor as their eyes ascended to these unearthly
creatures standing before them. "Uhh… hello" I stammered and they
erupted in a storm of giggles, dashing off to recruit their friends to
look at the Canadians.

We were quickly ushered into an office by a staff member who feared as
we did that if we stood around any longer we may very well be mauled
like Justin Timberlake taking a stroll through an all girls school. In
the office there was a high window that I could only peer out of if I
stood on my tippy toes. Jumping up and on piggy backs the children
looked through the window screaming with glee and pointing. The bell
for break rang and the children went back to class to resume their
studies. In walking to the class we were invited to attend on every
side of us there were faces pressed up against the classroom windows,
fighting for space to stare at these marvelous foreigners.

I waved this way and that feeling much like the queen. We arrived to
our destination, a grade 5 classroom with 30 young children, standing
and chanting in unison "Good morning, good morning to you, we are so
very glad to see you." After applauding them, we made our way to the
back of the class to sit facing the front with the students backs to
us, but all their faces turned in wonderment. The English lesson for
the children quickly turned into a competition of sorts with the
students battling each other to impress the Canadians with their
drawings and wonderfully executed English. We spoke a little with the
avid students and handed them out some inspirational sayings we had
prepared in English and in return they presented drawings they had
worked on for us. Songs were also performed, as well as verses and
conversational pieces with each other, leaving us very impressed! I
would like to mention there was also this mustachioed doll dubbed "Mr.
Language" with whom they also took turns conversing with in front of
the classroom speaking on his behalf as well as their own. Mr.
Language seemingly had a more difficult day than usual, and may have
developed a severe headache by the barrage of questions he was in
receipt of.

After the class finished we were hurriedly ushered to the auditorium
with scores of children in tow and presented a well executed short
play. The children sat squirming in their seats, and as soon as the
play finished they raced off out the door somewhere in droves leaving
an eerie silence like the eye of an enormous storm. We stood
perplexed, until we heard the stampede rushing back in, children
piling in and filling up the auditorium again, this time holding
cameras, pens and paper. No sooner had I said "Uh oh" was I surrounded
by little kids shoving pens and papers in my face demanding me to give
them my Canadian mark. So I did the only thing there was to do, I
inhaled a deep breath and started signing for the little tykes. Here
is some sample signing dialogue:

 "What is your name?" "Mmmhmm, yes I live here" "Of course its
beautiful, its Canada" "Hmm, nice try  I already signed for you" "I
like pizza too" "Thank you, I think you have a pretty name also"

So I and the other Canadians carried on, pens a flurry, children
reaching over one another pleading. After much time had passed our
tour guide teacher showed up to shuttle us away in order to check out
the school but not without a large congregation of wild eyed kids in
tow. After the tour, the kids started to dissipate and we managed to
sneak out to go for a much needed lunch break. So in conclusion, I
either felt like a strange Canadian circus act or a member of the Back
Street Boys (Back when they were young and cool).

Leia Mais…

One Yuan

One Yuan, something like 15 cents.

One yuan for me is a tool to take the bus, buy an ice cream or a bottle of water.

I also like giving them to beggars.

One yuan for a beggar I assume is different. I cannot know for sure as I am not a beggar. I can only guess that they may buy something to eat, perhaps cigarettes or maybe they give it at the end of the day to their boss?

One yuan for children from what I see is used to buy food coloured sugar water in plastic tubes, toys and trinkets or various parts of pig (?) smashed and smushed and presented as a hotdog on a stick.

One yuan for a farmer may be saved away for Spring Festival or maybe for his daughter's education.

One yuan stuck to a stone is often mistaken as a leaf to the stone.

What an odd post. Where did all that come from?

Leia Mais…

Run JK Run!

Kids love to run. Perhaps it's the exhilaration of the run. Or because all the other kids are running. Or perhaps it's the feeling of the wind in their hair. Or because you can simply get to places faster. Whatever it may be kids love to run.

Adults, unless on treadmills or running to lose weight or running to relax (what a notion for someone who isn't into exercising!) or running a marathon don't have the same spirit of running.

Ask a kid. 

In January I ran my first marathon. I did it for many well thought out reasons. You can see the difference already. When I was a kid I wouldn't plan my run, researching on the net, strategically getting the map and music ready, I wouldn't blog about it, and I wouldn't think to the next day of my waiting aches and pains.

I would just run. 

It wasn't until just recently that I reignited the running kid within. I'm talking fits of unplanned - un"adult"erated - running. Most of my credit goes to the "Run Lola Run" soundtrack from the hit movie by the same name. It somehow found its way onto my MP3 player, and one day when hitting the street I just started running. I had no reason to run, I wasn't missing the bus, I wasn't doing training, I wasn't racing any of the neighbourhood dogs - I just let the music move me and I ran.

It was one of the best runs I've ever had. Since that day I find myself being grabbed by the urge to just run.

And I do just that. 

Now mind you - the weather is going to get hot. And hot as we all know means sweat. And sweat as we all know means sticky icky icky. And sticky icky icky as we all know, well... means sticky icky icky. C'mon.

So May, while it is still coolish I hereby name the month of impromptu running!

So, my friend - a question for you. When was the last time you really ran? 

*Note: The "Run JK Run" title is in reference to me - my name is JK. :)

Leia Mais…

Where Did All The Time Go?

 Just a short post that may help suck you out of a locked in habitual day.

Today when I was typing up my daily journal I noted the following:

"It's so funny how we easily get sucked into routine habits and wake up suddenly scratching our heads wondering where all the time went."



Do you ever find this? That you have a number of goals that you'd like to succeed at and you start off by doing a good job at them and then suddenly you wake up from a "trance" days or weeks later wondering how you got there and how you haven't continued or completed that goal?

I used to beat myself up about this but that would often lead me to stopping whatever it was that I wanted to accomplish. I now have learned that to succeed at most things one cannot be a perfectionist. Mistakes are made, failures are had, but it's perseverance and clarity that often make successes.

What have your success patterns been in your life? Do you often find that time has just gone by without you being "aware?" Has this very post helped to snap you out of such a state? 

Do you ask yourself enough questions? :)

Leia Mais…

Chinese Vegetarian Cooking 3

And so continues the series on *Chinese vegetarian cooking!

Today's cook was your's truly and on the menu was a lovely yellow curry:

In the curry there was: garlic, ginger, salt, curry, green bell peppers, potatoes, mushrooms, tofu and finely chopped parsley on top. :) To create this dish took about an hour's time, but as I greatly enjoy cooking (it's like a form of meditation for me) the hour passed quite quickly. 

Here is an aerial view of the masterpiece: 

It turned out just as I had imagined it would. I was happy with the taste, the smell, the texture, the appearance and the full stomach afterwards. :) Hoorah!

So as always I leave you with a few questions:

Are you into curries? Have you made a curry of your own before? Want to make a curry together? 

*Chinese vegetarian cooking. You may be thinking as you get to the end here that a curry is not a Chinese dish. You would be wrong. China does have curries and they exist mostly in the Southern provinces, perhaps having traveled up from further Southern countries like Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. All of the Chinese curries I've had at restaurants have been bland and boring so I prefer to make my own at home!

Leia Mais…

Chinese Vegetarian Cooking 2

This is an update on our Chinese vegetarian cooking. The following two dishes were created by Xiao Feng.

The first dish (pictured above) is a sweet and sour "bitter melon" dish. Ingredients included are bitter melon, red pepper, sugar, salt and vinegar. A nice simple dish.

The above dish is called "di san xian." Ingredients included are: eggplant, green pepper, potato, garlic, salt and soy sauce.

And here are both of the dishes pictured together!

Should you have any questions about how the dishes were prepared or should you be interested in enrolling in our school of culinary arts please leave a comment. :)

Leia Mais…

Just For Laughs - My Pick

After watching just about every Just For Laughs video on Youtube I've decided that the following one is my favourite.



Hahaha! Oh hoh, oh hoh hoh hoh... really that was funny right?!!

With the watching of so many clips a new (old) dream has crept (back) into my head. I would love to be an actor in Just For Laughs. The closest I've gotten to such a career was in high school. At the time it was a drama class that I took, along with a friendship with my good friend Tyler C (the goofy improver of improvers)that sparked me into a whirlwind of zany improv-like events, much to the amusement of other students and the chagrin of my teachers. I did so well at it that I won the "class clown" award for the 2003 graduating class. What a proud and defining moment.

Since then I've really missed the stage. Perhaps I'll have to go pay the crew at Just For Laughs a visit when I'm in Montreal or at the very least join a group of improvers.

Are you an improver? What do you think of Just For Laughs? Were there any passions that you had back in high school that you'd like to reignite? 

Leia Mais…

Chinese Vegetarian Cooking

My favourite vegetarian restaurant gave me a free cookbook the other day. There are about 100 different veggie recipes in it, all of which are in the style of Chinese vegetarian cooking.

I've loved cooking for a long while now but have never ventured into recipe land. Rather than using recipes I've always just thrown some things together that I thought would taste, look and smell good and pray that it wouldn't turn into a mushy mixture. Often times I was greeted with success and often times too I was greeted, with well, mush. 

This blog will showcase my first experiment with Chinese vegetarian cooking.

The first dish was sour and spicy shredded potato:

The second dish was a broccoli tofu stir fry:

And the two dishes together:

A short video of the prep before cooking took place: 

All in all I think things turned out quite nicely for my first time. The aroma of the spicy and sour shredded potatoes was the kicker, mmm mmm! I realize the video isn't too in detail so if you have any questions or comments about the dishes please leave them below!

Leia Mais…

Getting Up On The Right Side Of The Bed

I get up every day now at 6AM and run into the rising sun. Getting up early for me has been a gradual work in progress. From my early days of 6:30AM paper route starts to my early years of adulthood I've constantly struggled with the idea and the execution of getting out of bed.

I have been experimenting now seriously with waking up for more than half a year, see posts: "Waking Up To A Marathon" and "Are You A Sloth?" and am gradually perfecting the art form of being an early riser.

The intent of this post is to share the positive results I have received from rising early.  

From my own personal experience getting up early has changed my life in the following ways: 

• I now have 17-18 hours of awake time, I often get to 6PM and feel like I've been awake for two days. My days are loooong, and I can fill them with however I feel fit. An 8 hour working day takes less than half of my day now, so instead of saying "Oh, I work today so I can't do that" I now say "Oh, I work today, so I'll do that before or after work."
• I eat a big breakfast every morning at 7AM and super hydrate myself. My body loves this treatment and thanks me by giving me plenty of energy and clarity throughout the day. 
• I feel empowered and full of life. Waking up early gives me a feeling that I'm in charge and that I'm getting the most out of life. The opposite of this feeling to me has been felt in waking up late - I get down on myself for sleeping so long. I think some of you can relate to that?
• Continuing on the above point, I ride my good feeling and it gains momentum - carrying me throughout the day smiling. I find the same true for getting up late and the negative momentum I used to get from that.
• Instead of subscribing to my old accepted "I can only be a night owl" theory I now am finding out that I can be either a night owl or a morning bird, or an afternoon fluff eared mountain goat - it's completely up to me and the decisions I make.
• It's good bonding time with my wife!
• I exercise every morning, either running or walking (on a rest day). I run/walk into the sunrise on a bridge over the ocean. It fills me with universal energy and leaves me feeling fresh. 
• Every morning as I run or walk I go over my plan for the day, do affirmations and visualize my day the way I'd like it to be. 

I make weekly goals and the number one goal is always to get up early. When I get up early it is like everything else just comes naturally. 

Do you make weekly goals? What does your number one goal tend to be? Why is it so important to you?

PS. For anyone counting this is my 50th post! =)

Leia Mais…

People Love Litter Picker Uppers

I have figured out that the best way to be instantly loved by complete strangers is to pick up other people's garbage in front of them. 


Today I went with Xiao Feng to the uni to take in some sun after a week's worth of rain. The place we went to was here: 

In this lovely lake you can often see ducks, fish and many different kinds of birds. Today, because of construction going on on an adjacent building a few big ugly chunks of styrofoam had blown over and into the lake.  

I decided to take it upon myself and save the day. I got up off the rock where I had been inspecting a curious looking insect and strolled over with great intent. I scooped out the rubbish and instantly heard a chorus of people saying in Chinese to one another "Oh, my - what a nice guy!" "Well, what a nice person." "Foreigners sure know how to take care of the environment." 


But I wasn't done yet. The ducks were zooming in on a large plastic bag that was floating on the water and it was just out my reach. I rummaged around in the bushes and came out with a very large stick and scooped out the plastic bag, disappointing the curious ducks. The bystanders continued their oooing and awing, commending me for a job well done. One such comment went "I thought you were a little nuts at first when I saw you with the big stick, but now I understand - come on over, let's have a chat together!" 


The whole experience took all of 3-4 minutes but left me with a wonderful feeling. People love litter picker uppers. I know I do. If you picked up someone else's trash in front of me, even if I had never met you before - you'd have an awesome first impression in my eyes. 


On a first date with someone? Pick up someone else's litter in front of them. 
Meeting someone for business? Pick up someone else's litter in front of them. 
Having lunch with your grandma? Pick up someone else's litter in front of her. 
All by yourself? Pick up someone else's litter in front of yourself. 


So everyone will love you. But it goes deeper than that. It's fun to pick up litter and it's also a way to connect and give back to nature. 




When was the last time you picked up some litter? 

Leia Mais…

Chopping Kugua - A Musical Masterpiece

Something came over me today and I decided to do a video blog for the masses.

Most of you haven't seen my zany side in years.

This one is for you. I have been (seriously) studying the art of happiness for about half a year now and am getting better and better at things. One part of being happy I discovered is singing while cooking.

I especially get passionate to sing about the kugua (bitter melon):

This adorable, little, bitter bundle of joy makes me sing every time. 

See for yourself. 

When was the last time you sang to your food? 

Leia Mais…

The Time is Ticking and Tocking

To imagine how many people those clocks woke up. To imagine how many times eyes met those hands. To imagine how hurried time was at times. And how it would crawl at other times. There were certainly hell of a times! and heavenly times!

Time... time... time...

=)

Leia Mais…

My Powerful Body 3 - Update

I did my third exhaustion test today and got 46 consecutive push ups in less than one minute. The most ever in my life!

My soundtrack was Rocky's "going to fly now." As cheesy as it sounds it never fails to get me pumped up every time. I just love the story of the Rocky movie and the soundtrack puts it all into one song which acts like my fuel.

To reflect, I started the push ups program back in mid January, aiming to reach 100 push ups in seven weeks. It is now 10 weeks later and I have made it to week 4 of the program. Sounds like a failure right?

Not at all. It is quite the opposite. I've noticed a very simple trend that I often overlooked because I let my emotions look for me. When I started something I really wanted to do I always stopped at, or shortly after the first failure.

It wasn't until I found out I studied Mandarin Chinese for almost three years with huge success that I discovered the reason I was successful was because I stuck with it and refused to give up.

My push ups program has now turned into a case study on how dogged determination and letting go of fear can = success (and pecs).

On the Push ups logger website if you look closely there are 16,778 people on week one, 2,282 people where I am (week 4 day 1) and just a few hundred on the final week. I intend to join those on the final week. :)

If you want to track my progress and look at my fun loving comments for each work out day they are all logger on the above site. You can search for my username: ouyang.

Perseverance

What is it that you are sticking to?

Leia Mais…

Asking the Way

So there I was, in a small alley. The time was pushing 9AM and ahead of me was an older lady pulling a trolley full of veggies. As I was about to walk past her she turned around abruptly and started to ask in Chinese "Excuse me?..."

She saw I was a foreigner and immediately...
STOPPED.

She lost several shades of colour and started waving her hands desperately without saying anything.

I smiled and assured her in Chinese "It's okay, it's okay, you can ask me!"

She slowly murmured "can I take this lane to the university?"

To which I replied, "Yes, you sure can."

I smiled again, for smiling was in order and carried on my way. It was the first time in almost four years that anyone has asked me directions!!!

The reason I haven't been asked directions in my four years here is a mixture of a few things. Here is what I've thought it to be:

- There is a popular belief in China that no foreigner could ever possibly speak Chinese. Tack on top of that the fear of said foreigners.
- I have believed in the above ^ , thus limiting myself to the experience.
- I'm not particularly skilled with directions and people can sense not to ask me.
- People asked me in my first year when I wouldn't have understood and it's only in fact been 3 years.

I love helping people. I love giving directions. Giving directions this morning made my day (even if it was an accident). It was so simple, but I decided at 9AM that my day was made. I had a wonderful rest of the day riding the high of that simple joy.

When's the last time you've given directions?


Ou.yang.

Leia Mais…

My First Days in China Revisited

Here's a goody from my second day in China. I was just cleaning up my email and found it lodged in there. It asked me to be posted so here you go old post, you may breathe again! 

My Chinese assistant and teaching assistant at Metro had found me a place several days before I was to arrive, and only minutes on foot from the office. It turned out I lived on the 7th floor of a 14 floor apartment building, with what seems to be hundreds of tennants as the building is a three sided square with a small garden and fountain in the centre. The apartment turned out to be quite nice, but the floors and ceiling were in awful need of a scrubbing. I have a small living room, kitchen bathroom and decent size room. The place came furnished with a double bed (with a rock hard mattress), a dresser, nice tv (with cable) and stand, a balcony with washing machine (a barred balcony for security purposes I assume... although I'd be interested to see the theif who will climb seven stories to rob my poor Canadian self), a kitchen table w 4 chairs, fridge/freezer, water heater for the shower and a western toilet. The showers here much like anywhere outside of North America do not have shower curtains, so everything in the bathroom gets it's share of a drenching. 

I had some unpleasent situations with unwanted guests in my apartment. The first night I stayed there we had to work out all the paperwork, and among all my other responsibilities with my new job I was up late and to bed late so I had no time to remedy this situation. So I watched as many beetle like insects, including roaches watched me from their hiding places. For any Southerner who reads this you'll get a good laugh, but for any Northerner I'm sure it'll frighten and disgust you just as much as it did myself. So I slept in the corner of the bed, away from the headboard where I saw them chillin out, I awoke several times in the night with terrible nightmares of roaches crawling all over myself, smacking desperately, only to find I was alone.

The next day, was my one day off before work commenced. It was D day for all guests of apt. 717. I went to my trusty (Ohhhh so trusty) Walmart and with some help of my Lonely Planet phrase book managed to get my hands on 3 cans of raid and 15 traps. I spent the remainder of the day turning the place upside down and fummigating any creepy crawler who dared try and hide. I'm glad my neighbors didn't come aknocking for if they were to see me I would look like some kind of mask wearing, wide eyed, Raid toting maniac, which on this day I most certainly was. By the end of the day, all of my unwanted guests had been vacated and I slept with but only one nightmare, but this time using my full bed. 

However, the next day in speaking to a British dude whose lived and taught here for a year he told me that there is some things you can do about them, but only to an extent, after some time you just have to learn to live with it. Indeed. The next few days I have seen a minimal amount of them reinstating themselves into my apartment, and subsequently onto the bottom of my shoe. 

Moving on, once cleaned my apt. is looking pretty dope, complete with my oh so manly green strawberry bedspread. My day Saturday was the first at the office, so I woke up at 7AM, having to work at 9. I was bustling around getting ready and I was very thirsty so I decided to run downstairs and grab some water from a local vendor. I grabbed one of the two keys I had been given and made my way out, finding the door locking behind me. Which was fine because I had my key right? I went to affirm this by testing the key and it did not work, great, I was locked out at 8:15AM and thought it would be hopeless to get back in before nightfall, judging by what I had heard about the Chinese taking their time to get things done. I went to the office early but found it locked, and then I thought it was a worth a shot to act out the scene of me being locked out to the security guard. So I made my way back and brought forth my very best acting skills, and was rewarded by him calling someone and him beckoning for me to sit and wait. 20 minutes later a man with a metal box arrived, a maintenance man who followed me up to 717. Swiftly he pulled out but a piece of plastic and jimmied my door open in a matter or moments and grunts. He tried to say something in Chinese, and we both realized that was useless. Then he pulled out his cellphone and inputted the number 80, and I said "no, no, no, the number is 717" pointing at my number plate by the door. He grew impatient and scanned his brain for the most important word in his vocabulary and mustered out "MONEY." Uh oh... silly me thought services would be free with my rental fee, and my pockets were empty albeit 20 Yuan, which he violently shook his head NO at. I tried fervently to explain to him I would have the money for him at lunchtime, but there was no understanding to be had. I called my last resort on his mobile, Brandon a teacher's assistant at Metro and he straightened things out for me to drop the money with the security guard during my lunch break. With that said we both went out seperate ways and I arrived luckily a few minutes early and scanned ol' thumby in.

I just finished (1 hr previous) my first class today, which was what is called a Social talking class. This class size can be no more then 12 students, and it's a class giving the opportunity to talk about whatever the students and I want to improve upon, their listening, speaking and vocabulary. This class since the school is new was small in size, with 5 students, ranging in age from a 15 year old to a man in his 40's. The class went just swimmingly, they were rather shy at first, but I played them out of their shells by being animate and acting out the scene of a frigid snowy Canadian winter day. By the end of it I had students offering me Chinese, table tennis and guitar lessons!

Dayve, the British fellow I mentioned earlier said it is quite common for students to take you out for dinner, and to go out with groups of them for drinks. Normally, after all the recruiting is done here at Metro we will be fielding normally between 150-200 English Students who will stay with us for many years, so the opportunity is there to build close relationships with all of them.

All this said, there are many different classes and class styles I will be teaching, which I shall expand on in another post. Metro is a very professional organization, and I'm expected to be a very professional, dynamic teacher, which shall certainly not be an issue, but I will have to work hard each day at bringing to the office my best image.

I will work 5 days weekly, each day either 9-5 or 9-1, with my hours in the office right now consisting of creating topics for conversation, meeting and greeting incoming students, and teaching classes as needed. Once the school is fully operational much more time will be spent teaching, weekly reaching near 30 hours, with the possibility of overtime.

Well that is all for now as we are breaking for supper, so I'll try and write more tommorow if opportunity gives.

As an update to things, I have become more used to cockroaches and have stopped squishing them. They do however still trigger a biological "fear" reaction of shivers and the like. I don't see Metro as the same professional organization that I used to,but still enjoy my teaching there - although I have lost much of my former zest and have become rather numb to the monotony of the curriculum. 

If I spoke with the door opener again I wouldn't have to flail my arms, I would just tell him "You'll get the money at lunch my friend" and that'd be that. But, I do, part of me miss the acting out of scenarios. There was something fun about not speaking the language, about being clueless.  

All in all, a nice walk down memory lane. When was the last time you walked down memory lane? 

Leia Mais…

Toastmasters

I'm in the processing of joining the local Toastmasters chapter. I feel it's the start of something big. I can feel it in my bones. Like it's one of those things I'll write about in my autobiography, going something like "a big turning point was in joining Toastmasters..."

Leia Mais…

One Word

You are given ONE word and 60 seconds. Write nonstop for 60 seconds. See what is left on the page.

My one word was MUTE, I wrote the following:

a person who can't speak. myself sometimes. the tv remote. something that i often teach in my class. the sound of the airplanes when they stop. the click of the engines when they are still. the sound of the keys when they don't rattle. the sound of climbing stairs when you aren't. the place where i go. the place where they went. the colours.

www.oneword.com 

Check it out. Write for a minute. Post in the comments below. If you like sharing. :)

Ou.yang.

Leia Mais…

Contacting Elvis - The MEX Update

After thoughtful consideration this MEX was bumped off of the priority list until further notice. It is still something I look forward to doing at a later date. I'll keep you posted!

Ou.yang.

Leia Mais…

My Powerful Body 2 - Update

Update! Two weeks later.

Exhaustion tests

Start: 18 push ups

Two weeks later: 32 push ups

For anyone counting that is a pretty good accomplishment. For the next exhaustion test I hope to get at least 50.

Ou.yang.

Leia Mais…

My Powerful Body

After thinking about the powers of my mind (see previous post) my body started getting jealous. So in order to push my physical self I have chosen the fitting task of completing 100 pushups. This would be a HUGE accomplishment.

Let's rewind...

Back in junior high school and high school I was very gangly. Being called "dandy long legs" wasn't uncommon. Said, when the dreaded PE test came around ever year I was the kid who was huffing and puffing, thrashing around on the pullup bar and laying defeated on the ground after several pushups.

So, body - here is the task. Seven weeks to get to 100 pushups in under 2 minutes.

I'm designing this program off of the very simple program available here. My current record for nonstop "good form" pushups pre program is 18. I tried for the 19th but collapsed in a sweaty, hot pile.

What have you done for your body lately?

Leia Mais…

My Powerful Mind

I was in Guangzhou recently and the following happened:

Tired.
Approaching evening. 
Waiting for bus.
Still 2 hours to go.
Not looking forward to long bus ride back.


I put on my normal morning running music.
Stood up. 
Found an empty spot. 
Started walking. 
Back.
And forth. 


My imagination sparked. 
Like I was running by the ocean.
At 6 AM. 
Morning sun shining down. 
Smiling. 
Muscles moving. 
Up the hill.
And down. 


I was walking.
Back.
And Forth. 


30 minutes passed.


It felt like I had just done my morning run. 
Happy. 
Mind relaxed.
Muscles relaxed. 
The same physiological experience. 


I had run my entire run in my mind. The effects post run were the same. I felt energized, relaxed and my brain was pumping out its happy drugs.

In a world where action is so talked about let us not forget the mind folks. :)

What has your mind done for you lately?

Leia Mais…