I've had yet more inquires and comments about my project here. I am thankful to those who have directed their compliments to me, and I have taken valid criticisms into account. But there are still those who wish to know what's behind it all - "what I'm angling at." I've assured them that there is nothing insincere or ironic about my writing here. In fact, and this will do for my next admission, it might be as simple as the fact that I am indeed a glutton for punishment.
This ought to be no surprise to anyone.
From things as ethereal as my political entreaties here to things as concrete as my physical fitness training accomplishments over the years, it can be easily assumed that I must have some penchant for suffering.
Even having the most vitriolic scorn heaped upon me tends to bring a smile to my face. That's why I sport my thinking cap (aka my Trump hat) to as many progressive safe spaces as possible in our fair city and beyond.
So there is nothing insincere in my owning up to various faux pas in this space, but there is something unfairly tipping the balances in my favour - namely that my tolerance for anguish in every dimension of our humanity is probably higher than the average soul's. Perhaps this is a talent God gave me for others to benefit by, in that same vein of "suffering on behalf of many" - and if so, I owe a confession and apology for having misused it on far too many occasions.
A last word on the origin of this particular habit of mine. On the one hand, it is well known that we who are of aboriginal blood are often people with big hearts and appetites.
While I was never raised around my people, I believe this indelible mark remained with me. On the other hand, this particular trait is almost certainly based in the older Germanic ethics of my upbringing; a good summary of said ethics is simply that the hard way is usually the right way, the inverse being evil.
In honor of St. Patrick, I confess I have indeed on many occasions had too much to drink.
There are some funny instances, like the time I sang and danced as Elvis on Nancy O's bar to the delight of both the patrons and the owners; but there are also less inspiring moments where I have attempted to spread the gospel of my own ideas far too loudly, or even grown accustomed to the feeling of true penitence at Mass the next morning, self-flagellation no longer being an option.
Skipping to the mind for the moment, I had a nasty habit of writing papers in university that were in fact the antithesis of the particular professor in question. While it may shock and appall many readers, the truth is I actually argued for the constitutionality of gay marriage in a final essay for a professor who had intervened against it while this question was before the courts.
For that particular act of rebellion, I was awarded my highest grade ever and now endless questions here.
But we must come to the heart of the matter, as all questions of over-consumption do not point to the belly but to the chest. The truth is like many young men, I suffer from the suspicion that the accepted boundaries may not in fact be the true ones.
And so it is up to me to explore them for myself and others.
I'm not a rebel without a cause - I'm a cartographer without a map.
Thus, I participated in an election four years ago almost by accident, which ended with me pushing my opponents' supporters to the limits of their patience. I started my time at Trinity Western University an angry agnostic and left an only slightly less angry Catholic, the Roman Church's teachings being the hardest thing I could adopt.
Finally, I have this space here to share my ideas and begin a discussion with others if by no other means than provocation.
And this is perhaps what people do not understand about the spontaneous flowering of many thousands of podcasts, Youtube interviewers, and alternative media outlets.
We're not just trolls or provocateurs - we're lost and hungry.
And we won't stop until we're satisfied.
