Hard work: a virtue and a vice?

I truly admire those who work hard. Whether their effort shows in sport, school, or in their struggle to survive an illness, I am truly impressed. Impressed by the human spirit. Recently, I've been thinking about immigrants to Canada because I was helping a friend revise a personal statement. He is from Viet Nam and came to Canada about a year ago. Like how the climate of monsoon rains, and scorching temperatures were replaced by relentless rain, his life was changed. His family came to Canada, like most immigrants, to pursue a better life. A life and dream rooted in the American Dream, but is no longer quite the American Dream (I would argue). They were forced to adapt. To the climate, to the English language, to the uncertainty that unfolds in day to day life. But never did they give up. My friend told me that he worked harder, studied harder, and developed a resilient personality, one of great maturity. He says he's doing it for the good of his family and for that I admire him profoundly.

In most cultures, it seems, adversity is something that no one really wants. But it's a fact of life and society considers it noble to face adversity head on. To sail in the storm. To ride the waves. To tell you the truth, I don't mind adversity or challenges. I welcome them. Actually, I don't want them, but when I a challenge faces me, I try to trick myself into believing that the challenge is there for a reason. Maybe I can learn something from it. Maybe I can grow. Maybe I can come out of it with a different outlook on life.

The above-mentioned ideas, however, don't always hold true. In a Daoist's view, effort can be disastrous. What you seek, constantly escapes you. It's the yin and the yang; opposite forces must be in balance. Too much effort, too much hard work and what results is counter-productivity. If we try too hard to make the grade, or to land that dream job, we may develop the incapacitance to achieve the said goals. Similarly, if a jazz pianist tries too hard to improvise a piece, it won't sound improvised; it'll sound rehearsed and awkward. Arguably, this may happen to us in our daily lives. How often do you hear someone tell a friend that he himself is worried about an exam and his friend tells him not to worry because hard work will pay off. Truth is, hard work doesn't always work.

Perhaps, what we need is work that doesn't feel like work? Then it must be effortless, rendering the process itself rewarding. Maybe then creativity would really flourish, and people would be less of workaholics.

--
Jason Tu

 

Saturday, the goal-free way

So it was Saturday today, which probably explained why I had a hard time waking up this morning. It seems like I am always the last one to wake up and usually have little snippets in my memory of everyone else's actions as they woke up before me. Dad yelling at sister to wake up. Dad cooking something in the kitchen. Sister saying goodbye. She has a thing with with saying goodbye to me while I am asleep. I am not supposed to hear this but I do for some reason. 

Having nothing better to do, I headed over to a friend's house where I found him studying vigorously like a monk working hard transcribing an ancient text in a dark monastery. I began doing a jigsaw puzzle. I really enjoy them now, partly because of the rush of dopamine that gets released whenever pieces click into place, but also because of how when I put the piece together, It is like I am also putting together the pieces of my life. While it is a relaxing past time, it is also a personal one. 

If you thought jigsaw puzzles are something for people with way too much time on their hands, listen to this:  I spent nearly two hours making a bracelet with string. You could call it a friendship bracelet but I was planning to wear it myself. Call it eccentric, call it childish, heck you can even call it girly. But I had such a good time, i felt like I was in a trance. It was meditative even. Therapeutic. It is something you would get a little kid to do to keep them busy for hours on end during the summers. Maybe arts and crafts can help offset the effects of an analytically oriented society.

On Transit Fares

Having used a U-pass for five years, I have recently realized the value of what I have lost since graduation.Public transportation in this city is just not practical and does not make money sense! Yesterday, I spent $12 in change to use the system, $12 that I would never see again. Such exorbitant fees for such sub-par service has left me thinking about how the system could be improved.

First, we need to abolish transit zones. I have tried again and again, and still haven't been able to wrap my head around the reason for zones Monday to Friday before 6:30 pm. You could take the 99B-line from UBC to Commercial Station, and from Commercial Station back to UBC for just $2.75 (mind you, this is at least 20 km of service). But, however, if you take the sky train from Joyce Station to Patterson Station (entering into Burnaby and traveling a grand total of 1 zone and 1 km of track in 2 min) you would be set back $4.  Zones just have to go.

Second, I have an issue with timed-fares. At the instant that you purchase a fare, it goes on self-destruct mode where it would be invalid in 90 minutes. But what if a trip takes 91 minutes to complete? I remember taking the 49 bus to get home after a sky train ride. I would have just made it onto the bus if it had not been for the long line up ahead of me. My ticket expired by 2 min and had to purchase a new 2 zone ticket for $4. The bus driver said that it was fine by him but if transit police asked me to produce a ticket, then I would be fined. Wait a minute! That does not make sense to me. If, for example, I got on the bus a minute before my ticket expired and suppose transit police were to enter the bus later on in the ride, my ticket would have already expired. Would I then be fined despite entering the bus with a valid ticket? In addition, often I would pay for a bus ride that would total 20 min. The 70 min of what remains on the value of the fare would go to waste. Needless to say, it may be cheaper to drive a car for a month than to buy a monthly pass.

Why can't we have a system that deducts from our compass cards an amount proportional to the time traveled (like in Singapore)? Or a flat rate per ride with designated free transfers (like in New York)?

Third, it's well-known that with the introduction of the Compass Card, Translink will abolish the privilege that allows for families to travel under one monthly pass on Sundays. Could they at least uphold this policy? It is, after all, a policy that promotes the use of public transit. The removal of such policies may contribute to a preference for driving over taking public transit.

One final though I have has to do with the distance between bus stops. Why are there bus stops on every block? We would see better traffic flow if buses stopped at every other street (including main streets of course). While having many stops increases accessibility, we clearly don't need stops every 100 m. Now, some may argue that we have express bus lines like the 99 and 43. The issue at hand is that we need more stops like these. In addition, what if we were to have express trains. Or even express trains that run from Metrotown to Granville or Waterfront to the YVR during peak periods?

If we consider some of the points I have raised here, maybe our transit system will make some progress earlier rather than later.

--
Jason Tu

This is not how you cross the border (Part 2/2)

Then the cars started moving, which meant that I had to turn the Matrix back on. The engine must've started several times when I decided to simply leave it on. Maybe doing so would eat up less gas. We must've been 5 cars until the border guard's booth when we began to hear rattling under the car somewhere.

"You better hope and pray--very hard--that we make it!"

"No, not in your head--OUT LOUD."

Thoughts raced through my mind. What if the car in the next lane let us in front of him? I mean, we'd be better off if the car died with us in the front of the line. People often times are masked by the steel shell of their cars; while in them, they have no empathy--unless I give some eye contact. Oh forget it, no one's going to let me through. But what if our car does die. Would anyone come out of their vehicle to help us push?

Aeons later, we made it to the border security booth.

"So where are you going and why?" (Texan accent)

"Blaine, to pick up some racing seats for my friend"

"Why can't he pick them up himself?"

"He's at work, and I'm doing him a favour."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a student."

"What about the guy next to you?"

"He's a collision repairman, but he got laid off."

"Yea? Well, is there any chance that he can fix that annoying rattling sound?"

"Actually... the car is out of gas. The pilot's been on for over half an hour. Where's the nearest gas station?"

"It's a block away. Just right there."

In synchrony with his signal to let us pass, the car died. I stepped on the pedal, but it would not nudge. The border security guy rolled his eyes, and smiled at us, but from his eyes I saw laughter ("These guys are such idiots!")

"Guess you guys are out of luck."

So, I set the gear to neutral, we got out, and pushed the car, stopping to position the wheels occasionally to the gas station, a 20 min feat. We were entering the land of the free, in style! Nice and slow, treasuring every second (yea right). At the end of it, I felt sweaty and cold--not a pleasant combination, but I felt a sense of accomplishment. It's not everyday that I get to go on such exotic adventures.