jasonschneider.ca

The last time it was time and this time it’s space, sensing a theme occurring. In any case, I’ve recently been reminded that space can be at premium when renting a humble/affordable apartment in downtown Toronto. Having just gained some space back from the removal of a mountain of boxes, I started to enjoy having empty nooks and crannies because it made the apartment look bigger. With less stuff taking up room I was even beginning to finish emptying my own boxes and setting things up the way I like them. I was even contemplating purging some of my unnecessary possessions, gasp. With the finishing touches in sight, all those plans for my space have come to an abrupt halt. Because it is no longer only my space.

Now another mountain of boxes can be found in what once was a big empty corner. It was inevitable. It’s the natural law and order of things: if there is space available, it will get filled up. Human nature is based on the fact that we are emotional beings who constantly battle between these emotions and practical reason. Some people put a lot of sentiment in physical objects which take up physical space too. Others see the through that to the practicality of eliminating the clutter of these objects while still maintaining the sentiment and memories. Striking a balance between the two is what I’m striving for, meaningful minimalism. Which would be great if I didn’t have anyone else to worry about in this equation, but I do now and his belongings are just as important as mine.

One good example of how this could go terribly wrong is in the case of my mom vs. my dad. (cue Dick Dastardly music) My mom was a pack-rat, just like I was/am about certain things. Somewhere along the way my mom became a master purger. She started small by creating a little pile of household items, both decorative and useful, in one corner of the family room and then asked me and my sister to choose what we wanted because she was going to throw it all away. This began to happen more frequently and she started to included larger items. Their house became less cluttered and more spacious. Almost like what you would see on those realty shows and how they stage houses for viewing. But then she started throwing away some of my dad’s belongings without consulting him and that is when a good idea went bad.

I’m still working on my own ability to manage my space. Not holding onto possessions that serve no purpose or add something to the quality of my life at this point in time. I need to learn to let go of objects which are only souvenirs or hold potential usefulness, all of which just take up space while not being used at all. So how will I manage how he deals with our space and how much of his belongings are a necessity and which ones merely occupy space? If it’s anything I’ve learned from observing my parents’ management of their shared space it’s that he and I will have to work as a team to maintain the perfect balance of space and stuff.

Time management proves to be a challenge in both my personal and work life. I do much better at work with managing my time and those that report to me. Something about it being part of my job and that I’m paid to do it adds incentive. One trick that helps me is making daily ‘to do’ lists. There is a geeky satisfaction in being able to cross off tasks that I’ve accomplished. It also helps that I have definitive deadlines for each project I work on, giving me a month long view of what needs to be done.

There are times in between though that cause me grief which usually entail last minute or ‘ad hock’ requests. These requests tend to be more timely and require me to drop everything to get them done quickly. Basically they are the bane of a designer’s existence since it interrupts the creative flow. However, adaptation comes with the territory and is also a key component in managing time. Being able to find pockets of time to incorporate these tasks between already scheduled work. It can either make or break you.

If only my personal life were as organized. A wise human resources person once told me that I must create deadlines in my personal life too. This is something I have not been able to do. Once I leave the office world of deadlines, I end up just relaxing. Housework, organizing, and even hobbies fall by the wayside with me mentally saying that I will get to it. But do I ever get to it? No. Because I haven’t created an incentive to get to it. Somehow I lack the discipline at home that I strive to maintain at work. Perhaps it’s because the only person I have to answer to is myself, and I can be a pretty forgiving life manager.

Even when I have my daughter for the weekend I seem to have some kind of schedule of events laid out in my head. This can drive her crazy unless there is a trip to the bookstore involved. In the past, my partners have also had different priorities when it came to time management and maybe that is where I developed such a lackadaisical attitude? In either case, there has got to be a balance. I should be able to get housework done in a proper time period and not drag it out for days. I should also be able to set aside time for my hobbies, with materials piling up in my closets and ideas filling up my brain.

How people manage their home lives is escaping me. Maybe I have to start using my personal calendar the same way I use my work calendar and book time in the evenings for tasks and hobbies? Including deadlines for certain projects to be finished? How do I stop being so lazy? How do I make better use of my personal time the way I seem to do with my work time? (btw, I wrote this during my lunch hour)

I’m talking about the internet, get your minds out of the gutter. Having been involved in the internet in some way, shape or form for over ten years now has been an interesting ride. I’m quickly realizing that it’s both a large and a small place for people to connect. This doesn’t just stop at the desktop variety either, the iPhone is also a powerful tool that has shown me how close people can be or become.

The obvious places on the internet to meet people and exchange useful information such as facebook and twitter can at first seem limiting. You tend to only add people you’ve actually met in person on those sites. But what about those millions of users who you don’t necessarily know but could now if you wanted to? Large pools of people at your fingertips but you’re limited to a small group of friends. I’ve been known to add random people to both of my accounts in order to expand my radius. If it’s one thing I learned a long time ago, 14 years to be approximately exact, it’s that you can make friends on the internet that are true friends who stand by you over the years.

Recently I’ve also been spotted in real life first and then approached online. A new dimension. Also flattering. It just goes to show you that the world may be big and full of busy people, but the internet can make it smaller. I always have been open to making friends through this medium and it’s only getting easier. So many of my single friends always ask (rhetorically) ‘how do I meet people nowadays?’ How about joining a special interest group on a website? You might not meet the partner of your dreams but you’re definitely going to meet some interesting people with common hobbies. I don’t know how anyone meets quality people in bars these days. Not to say that quality people don’t go to bars but really?

So, no matter how big or small you think the internet is, those things can work in your favour if you really put your mind to using this great space for forging new, modern relationships. Look, I’m your friend now.

It doesn’t matter how old you are or how many times you’ve experienced being rejected, for whatever reason it still stings like a giant wasp found it’s way into your body cavity and ‘had at’ your heart. I’ve had my fare share of rejection since I first got picked last for teams in elementary school. I only wish my parents had done a better job instilling in me the innate ability to bounce back from these situations. Instead I put on a face and secretly died inside.

A shy kid naturally internalizes and personalizes each and every rejection to the point of destroying their own sense of self worth. This can carry on into adulthood if the thought pattern is not altered. The clincher is that it’s not always personal or may not even have anything to do with the rejected. It’s all about perspective. I’m constantly reminding myself that mine is not the only perspective in any given situation, that I need to look at it from the other guy’s POV. Instead of asking ‘what’s wrong with me?’, I ask ‘what’s happening in their life which led to their decision to reject me?’ This is a real eye-opening exercise.

Since childhood, rejection has taken on many forms. These forms are not only related to the specific age bracket in which they occurred but are also a product of how advancing technology has developed new avenues of communicating these rejections. In elementary school it was face to face contact where kids weren’t afraid to say they don’t like you or you have funny hair or the classic ‘your mother dresses you funny.’ The more sophisticated crowd wrote notes that included check boxes for ‘yes’ or ‘no’. High school became more impersonal with friends acting as messengers to deliver the bad news. I’ll skip college because it was different for me back then, it was before we had email. I assume that college students now have email, facebook, twitter, etc., but I will get to those shortly.

Once I started looking for a ‘grown up’ job I found rejection could either be avoidance or brutally honest. Follow ups to interviews would solicit politely written emails explaining that they were considering another candidate or that they were still looking for a perfect fit. The harder rejection to face was right at the end of the interview when they actually said they felt you were under-qualified, over-qualified, or even asking for too high of a salary.

On a social front, using the internet quickly became ‘the’ way to meet new people for all sorts of different reasons: friends, common interest groups, sex. Bloggers became friends and/or famous. People’s lives turned virtual. Thus making it easier to reject someone without the messy backlash that comes with actually knowing someone IRL (in real life). Not so easy to understand why you’ve been rejected since how could they possibly know you well enough to make that decision. Social media has added to the ease in which people can reject and be rejected. With a click of the mouse you have un-friended, stopped following or blocked someone. No need to actually talk to anyone anymore. It’s kind of ironic that social media has created anti-social behaviour.

For me, rejection still hurts at first, but if I remind myself to consider the rejector’s point of view and that in the end it’s their loss, then I will be able to concentrate on what’s really important.

There are certain smells and sounds that trigger memories for me and it’s the ones that remind me of summer that are most cherished.

Starting with the sticky and moist scent of trees and impending rain. This takes me back to the summers past where my sister and I would pack our lunches into knapsacks and walk two blocks to stand in wait for the day camp bus. A big bus full of singing children of all ages who were headed to the wilderness to learn about trees and plants and hand-made crafts. The smell of summer got stronger once we passed the city limits (which have expanded since then) and headed down a dirt road between farmer’s fields. Fragrant wildflowers, acrid hay, fresh cut grass mixed with an underlying musk of earth and rich soil. The sound of cars was replaced by the wind rustling leaves and long grass, birds chirping and my favourite, the cicada with it’s one long piercing note.

After departing the bus and enduring the daily opening ceremonies, we were led off in different directions by groups to other areas of the conservation area (which is now abandoned and overrun right in the middle of brand new housing developments) where there was even more to be experienced. From the lush crab apple tree field you held onto the sweet smell of blossoms only to be bombarded by the dank but heady smell of hemlock in ‘mosquito valley’. Just beyond that was a dusty dirt road that led to an abandoned silo in the middle of a corn field. A trip there was forbidden unless you had a cool camp counselor who would keep it a secret. The calls of toads and grasshoppers would accompany our footfall with an occasional crow cawing overhead as it flew by.

Special permission was granted for trips up the creek that gurgled and babbled as if speaking an alien language. Along the way we caught crayfish that smelled decidedly fishy and who’s pincers were lightening fast. One of these trips became our very own version of Stand By Me with the story of a dead dear that could be seen amidst the rubble of the eroded basin rock wall. The black flies buzzed around our heads as we climbed up the rocks to peer down into the makeshift grave. Dust danced in the beam of light which shone into the depths, indeed revealing a pair of antlers. The girls squealed in disgust while the boys reveled in the discovery, claiming boasting rights and even daring to get closer.

The end of the day brought the incessant chirping of crickets which meant the home-time bell wasn’t far behind. Dust and gravel flew up at us as the bus drew to a stop beside us waiting. The familiar smell of gasoline and motor oil reminded us that it was truly back to civilization for us. Back to the city and running water which our mother would draw a bath from to wash away the grime and outdoor smells from our tired bodies. Scrub as you might, you cannot erase the smells and sounds of summer from my memories.