I would like to thank you for hanging in there, dear reader. I know that you’ve sat through quite enough self-indulgent tripe in this series and, thankfully, we’ve come to the end of it. There’s not much more left to achieving Ultimate Success® except this last bit:

Step 7 – [INSERT TITLE HERE]

As we finally leave the University of Toronto (I’m sure I mentioned it’s a big place), I’m reminded of my first impression of Canada. A little immigrant kid, no English, fresh off the plane at Pearson, stepping out into Toronto daylight for the first time. I’m not sure if I vocalized it, and I’m not certain if I used the word “shit”, but I recall gasping, “Holy shit! Look at the size of those cars! How big are these people?”

I won’t hesitate to call that wonder. Toronto was huge. And you know, I think it still is. If I recall correctly, by doing the speed limit on the 401 from the eastern border (“Welcome to the City of Toronto!”) to the western border (“Same to You, Jerkwad!”), you could drive across the city in about forty minutes. That’s about sixty-seven kilometers (forty-two miles). On the night of my high school graduation, drunk off my tits, I decided to walk home to Scarborough from Yonge and Bloor. I could be wrong, but I think it took me just a little over six hours. Possibly less if I hadn’t been wearing formal footwear.

I would probably add another two to three hours of walking to get to the eastern city limit, where it touches cootie-ridden Durham county. And I believe the city extends just as far west of Yonge too.

So it’ll be a while before I can say I’ve seen most of it. Plus, every day I feel like an idiot with all the new stuff I learn. For example, did you know Toronto has a flag? And I finally discovered that Ollie and I are slumming it in a genuine, old-Toronto bay-and-gable flat. Bay-and-gable, sounds like a gritty police drama. Or perhaps a comedy duo.

When bay-and-gable starts to get stale-and-laboured, I usually don’t need to walk more than a block or two for a change.

What I’m getting at, really, is that something unexpected usually lies just around the corner. Ultimate Success® is incredibly subjective, so it’s difficult to get any more precise than that (in only three easy steps). But if you strike out for it, whatever it means to you, you’ll more than likely hit it. Even stupid people get successful so you sure can!

Just follow some basic rules: be sure to keep your eyes peeled…

…stay cool, baby, stay cool…

…and have fun! If it’s not fun, it probably won’t be worth doing. And for all those fun things that require elusive inspiration, I find that it tends to strike moving targets much more frequently. Sometimes you just need to  take a walk.

Congratulations! You are now at the gate of Ultimate Success®!

I would like to thank the publisher(s) of this autobiographical Tour de Force in advance for his / her / their support. Without believing in me the way she / he / they will have, this whole crazy thing never would’ve come together.

In closing, I’d like to add that if “The Three Easy Steps to Ultimate Success” has helped even just one person, it will make the royalty cheques I’ll be receiving well worth it. May you find your happiness.

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Sometimes fate provides the best illustrations of the topic at hand. Tonight, for example, as I was nearing my flat, I passed a regular panhandler seeking the usual “money for food, sir?” He probably could use food, truth be told; he’s skinny, has an unpleasant complexion, and wears early-eighties Bill Gates goggles replete with the chunkiest of lenses.

I have the “no” head-shake down so well now that I can even do it from behind. Which I did. Question stopped. Alas, it took Goggles less than half a second to shout to a compatriot across the street asking if he could get a “pipe for a dollar fifty?” I honestly have no idea if that’s in any way realistic. But that’s not the point.

What Goggles did was to demonstrate the importance of just doing something in order to kick-start the Ultimate Success® machine. The first attempt doesn’t have to be successful, as long as you’re focused on the near-term goal — research, planning, and organization will just flow naturally from there.

Goggles will get his pipe. You bet.

Step 6 – Do Stuff

On the outskirts of Taichung City there were fields and fields of muddy, flooded rice paddies bordered by sloppily-paved embankments that farmers, and their vehicles, used to get around.

I’d lived in Taiwan for about two years before one day noticing that a car had just exited one of these paddy roads at the foothills near my house (the island is mostly mountains). That meant that there had to be something on the other side!

I should point out that these weren’t really roads – the driver of the car I’d noticed advanced very carefully. He had about half a foot separating him and a hilarious dip into the short-grain Chinese staple on either side. And, although a car could barely fit, farmers insisted on taking farm vehicles on these embankments. Okay, the tractors and trucks were smaller than North American ones, but still bigger than a car. Serious business atop tarred and dilapidated concrete slabs, let me tell you.

I should mention that, although it’s probably since improved, traffic priority in the country was based on size and aggressiveness. On a motor scooter, you generally gave way to cars. Cars gave way to mini-trucks. Mini-trucks gave way to farm vehicles. So on. Red lights were a suggestion, sidewalks were simply another place to drive. Just about every cabby flashed a gloriously red Betel nut smile, usually while spitting joyfully red sludge on the sidewalk.

The floor-cleaner-tasting nut (of course I tried it!), created a short-lived intoxication not unlike alcohol. I believe a certain level of actual alcohol was considered to be a stimulant, but that could’ve been a y-guo myth (why-guo-ren: foreigner). Despite that story, the cabbies drove around at a very controlled level of intoxication, that much was certain, so I’m sure there was some acceptable limit. I’d often be offered Betel nut (with a courtesy spitting cup), and a can of beer when hitching a cab. Just requested to keep it low.

Cabbies thought that the farmers were crazy drivers. Not in a bad way, they were just Hakka, proud, salt-of-the-earth folk – darker, stouter, and more lascivious than the expatriated mainlanders. Fun bunch. Their farms and homes peppered the hills and people definitely didn’t stop for anything on their roads or in their fields. I think everyone just knew that. I knew two other things that I could offer up in a Hakka tussle, “pie say” (excuse me), and “dou shia knee” (thank you) — not 100% sure about the second one. Failing that, I’d throw a little Mandarin in there. If that didn’t go down, I’d lift up the visor on my helmet and point to my face: See? Whitey!? Her Majesty’s loyal subject!? I’gnant!

You’d be surprised how often that worked. And I figured I could ditch into the rice if the hammer came down out there on that skinny road. And it did, of course.

I was halfway over the paddy when the tractor appeared on the opposite end, rolling toward me at a good clip. He was on the wall before I even had a thought. Remember the bridge-crossing scene in Stand by Me? Yeah. But with a tractor instead of the train and a puttering, two-stroke engine facing the wrong way instead of a screaming fat kid. I screamed a little in my helmet also.

The deeply tanned gentleman at the wheel wasn’t intentionally trying to kill me, I believe. He was simply hammered. He didn’t seem to be looking up most of the time, definitely not concerned about rolling his ride. I had to make a quick decision so I engaged in a heart-stopping game of chicken as I gunned it for a shallower patch of mud at his end of the field. I would’ve been smushed by the time I got my trusty 90 c.c. Kymco Sniper halfway turned around. Five feet above the paddy at that point. Pretty sure old Snipey wouldn’t have survived that.

The look on the farmer’s face as he rolled to a stop to look back at my splayed form … what the fuck are you doing in my rice, y-guo? Then he suddenly broke out into a bubbly bellyful of laughter (I think he was even holding a can of affordable Taiwan Beer), and rolled on outta there. I pulled Snipey out of the mud, resolute to finish what I’d started. Not like I was gonna follow that guy.

Pretty soon I’d made it through the paddies and onto a dirt road, through a neato bamboo forest, past some awesome traditional Chinese houses, and ended up at the base of Dah-Kun, a fantastic hiking trail. It terminated deep in the hills on a terrace that overlooked the city, on which stood a gold and white temple dedicated to Guan Yin, the goddess of mercy. Seven-minute scooter ride from my front door – if I could make it past the gauntlet of rice.

Since you’re reading this now, you can assume that I spent considerably more time studying the habits of the farmer my second time there. The third time, I greeted that fucker good morning in my best Mandarin as we passed on the dirt road. He was surprisingly punctual — I was early. I won!

After that, I discovered a back road that led even deeper into the mountains. Well, I won’t bore you with the details of some of the stuff I found there, but you can see how that first leap — and I did kinda jump from my bike — was almost necessary. I’m sure it’ll work just as well for you. And, you know, you’ll probably survive, but I take absolutely no responsibility.

And for the audio book version of this series, I’d like to take this moment, as you’re driving to wherever you’re driving, to invite you to take a stretch, take a deep breath, refresh yourself an…KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!!

Continued in next part…

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Thanks for hanging in there, dear reader. I know that this hasn’t been an easy journey; three parts and I haven’t even covered anything practical yet!

But don’t worry, we’re getting to that now that we’ve covered the prerequisites: inquisitiveness, hope and vision, but not too much — make a plan B!

But how, exactly, to go about doing that?

Glad you asked :)

Step 4 – The Road To Ultimate Success®

(big!)

First, survey the landscape before you. Look up, above the screen. What do you see?

Don’t cheat now!

Was that inspiring? Did you see something that makes you want to sit here and continue to look at that? If so, I just totally wasted your time. Carry on :) But if not, why not?

Because, you have to plan your escape, that’s why! Planning is so absolutely rudimentary to everything that I don’t really even feel a need to cover it. There are lots of books out there to help you organize your papers, your wallet, your love life, etc., but none of them lead to Ultimate Success®. That’s because Ultimate Success® hinges on a simple Point-A-to-Point-B system.

For this you need nothing more than a piece of paper and a pencil. Or pen. A drawing or writing instrument of any kind.

One one end of the paper, draw a circle. Do so now if you’re really participating here because the next sentence tells you what this is all about.

Okay, so that’s you.

If it’s a bit wobbly, you probably just need to stand up for yourself a little more.

Next, draw another circle on the other side of the paper. Again, the next line is the give, so do so now if you’re playing along.

Right. And this is that thing that you determined in Step 1. Okay? You have you on one end, your goal on the other. How do you get there? Simply connect the dots – draw a line from you to your future. Straight and narrow. Go ahead.

Great. And now cross that line out and scribble crap all over it. Go on. Just destroy it. Because that is just not going to happen. You’ll have to improvise in the field, so just try to be as prepared as possible: a good flashlight, some nutritious seed/nut/fruit bars (snacking on one right now – incisory goodness!), some cash, good coat, you know … stuff like that.

So this is once again where inquisitive skepticism will come in handy. What’s the weather forecast? What do you see when you look outside? What’s your gut telling you? Are the birds on the wire looking nervous? Maybe they’re packing heat.

And as regards secondary planning, the proverbial plan B, that’s a great idea. I had one once (plan, that is; ideas not yet forthcoming), maybe twice. That’s not based on memory, I just figure it’s statistically probable. Regardless, I’m sure it came in handy, so I’m recommending it.

Step 5 – The Road To Recovery

I’m so sorry, dear reader, but I simply can’t help interjecting something at this point – surely you’ve heard the news about Adam Giambrone. Oh, old Jammers, I knew he wasn’t mayor material, but a sex scandal?! Neat! Ten days into the race. Out of a ten month race, if I recall correctly. Not even two weeks in. I don’t think you need to be new-media-savvy to have seen something catastrophic coming.

And now he has to help the TTC fix its image problem. Huh.

By the way, that link, if you can watch, is a lot of fun; some Toronto dissing and awesome commentary like, “If you wanna cheat on your girlfriend, knock yourself out, but don’t cheat on voters. That’s the, that’s the troubling thing.” (right near the end) When media people are catty like the host was, it usually means they’re jealous it’s not happening in their own town. Yeah, they should be; political sex scandals are media gold I tells ya! (Jammers’ web page has been down for quite a while now.)

And now everyone’s flinging the stupid stick. See? That’s why I wake up to talk radio. I’ll miss you, Bill Carroll! :(

Anyhow, I happen to agree with the morning show host’s opinion, it was Jammers’ own fault – it’s public office, not private office. But the lesson to take away is that, if this is something that Jammers is passionate about, he’ll be back. Even if he ends up getting tossed out as TTC chair (cuz’ he kinda broke confidentiality). And in this city, no one gives a shit if he’s bi. He’ll learn from his missteps and have at ‘er again, the same way you, dear reader, will have to learn from any mistakes that my advice produces. I don’t guarantee a single thing here; that’s the power of Ultimate Success®!

Finally, Adam did exactly the right thing by taking some time off. I can personally swear to the efficacy of simply throwing it down — whatever it is — and walking away. Come back, of course, but all in good time. You can’t be away from something you love for long! And have an ice cream while you’re out.

Maybe pick up the new “Ultimate Success Magazine”™ while you’re out there too — probably something interesting in there.

Continued in next part…

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If I may be honest, dear reader, that last part kinda bummed me out. The beach is not a happy place on a late January night. I didn’t see a single person frolic. In fact, I saw only one guy and he walked by so briskly that I didn’t even get to see what he had under his arm. And then returning back from whence he came at exactly the same pace, minus the thing he had been carrying. Then a car left the parking lot.

At that point I decided it was starting to get late. Class dismissed.

Step 3 – Learning You Good!

Okay, so this is where it starts to pick up a little. Note the sunshine, for starters. That building is the entranceway to Ultimate Success University™.

Haha! Just joshin’ ya, that’s actually one of the neato buildings at the University of Toronto’s St. George campus.

U of T and Ryerson are both spread out over blocks, each a little sprawling mini-metropolis of their own. This is where people come to get edumacated.

Some of the university-educated folk I’ve had to interact with, oh, don’t get me started. Sorry your dreams are crushed, buddy, but my burger isn’t going to tray itself now, is it?

Haha! Well, I laugh like I have a University diploma or something. Only from the University of Xerox, if that institution is still relevant. Also, I went to Centennial College to study digital electronics for computers. That entire program was a 24/7 sausagefest. I recall a friend who had transferred classes telling me that he thought that, possibly, there were a couple of chicks in his class. But they sat w-a-y at the back. And looked like dudes.

I guess I’m lucky I didn’t get accepted to university in the end. I repeatedly hear about the crazy debt that university grads are saddled with right out the gate. Of course, I had my own, but Centennial led to a lot friendlier debt collectors.

The campus I attended was really more of a remedial school so living there really wasn’t a concept. It was right by Highway 401, that particular section being the busiest in the busiest highway in the world. About half of my classmates were 40 or older and a number of them, well-qualified in other countries, corrected the profs during lectures. Though I don’t know if we were allowed to call them professors. Let’s say teachers to be safe.

The roadside campus was one misshapen hallway with spiny protrusions reaching outward into the empty lot on which it sat. Behind it, an attempt at a sports field and behind that, a murderin’ wood lot. I haven’t been back.

And that’s this point of discussion: every day is an education – school just gets the ball rolling. Once we’re on the road to Ultimate Success®, we must learn to quickly grab the wheel of life — and yank a hard left back toward the road! — before it becomes a smouldering wreck wrapped around the tree of complacency. What else could it be but a tree? The most complacent organism around.

So while I grudgingly admit that I have met a few successful university grads, I’m still not convinced of a diploma’s worth. I mean, for traditional things like doctors and lawyers and such, yes, I want the man or woman who may potentially be handling my nether regions to have damn-fucking-real looking diplomas on those walls. But they definitely don’t teach everything. Certainly not Ultimate Success®.

I think a healthy dose of inquisitive skepticism is probably one the best things that a school can instill. If you have it already, you’re done! If you’ve lost it, get it back. The last thing you want is to wind up as some turd in the corner of the office doing nothing but wasting the last days of your life playing solitaire. It even hurts me to suggest it. My apologies, dear reader, but that’s how important I think it is.

Important enough for a screenplay?

Continued in next part…

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So have you discovered how your life would be like a living dream if only you could _____________? Excellent!

At this point, many success-seeking guides would jump right into planning. The silly bastards. Now is when one learns to rein in one’s expectations.

Step 2 – I Didn’t Realize It Would Suck This Much

That’s me holding still for 15 seconds. I think it’s fair to say it was cold that night. But, I told myself I had to do it. No not the pose – well, yes, a little bit – but mostly I was there for the sand and surf. The most desolate time of the winter – the starkest of beaches. Way cool. I was extremely happy to be able to grab a warm streetcar back home afterward, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like I really earned these photos. I took every shot 3 times just for good measure.

Perseverance is a must. Plus, you pick up a lot of new things along the way that can end up being very useful later on. For example, I discovered that pure, concentrated pool-strength chlorine ooze can feel like jelly when you walk on it. Except it’s not! It’s the soles of your feet!

Haha! No, seriously, that was my first summer job. Totally unqualified lifeguard at a Czech community centre. I have no idea why they even had a pool; it was on the far end of a good stretch of land, over a steep and rocky climb up the main driveway, which was attached to a very gently trafficked stretch of road that meandered lazily through the valley. The community centre owned the property bordering that road – big enough for a generous public park. The entire summer, I believe we had two, possibly three customers.

I say we because halfway through my stint the management decided to wise up and hire an actual lifeguard. Unfortunately, the slight Asian kid seemed to be afraid of water, and definitely wanted nothing to do with chlorine. He tried to help me add it to the pool once but only managed to spill it on the deck and onto aforementioned feet. He squealed as he dropped it. I’ll never forget that squeal. It’s burned into my memory.

But I should stress that, having witnessed previous similar performances, I kept my expectations of him low and kept near to the water’s edge just in case. Which turned out to be exactly the right thing to do. So back to the topic at hand, if you kind of expect that things might suck a little, that’ll cushion the blow if they actually do. And if they don’t … g r e a t !

I followed the pool job with a jab at slinging hot dogs at Exhibition Stadium. I wasn’t expecting miracles. Nope. Caribana ended up being a total bust. I ended up thirty bucks in the hole — we bought from the people who ran the concessions and sold at a markup to the crowd, if we could sell it. We got an hourly pay but since most events lasted only one to two hours, and after deductions, that was just enough to buy a beer on the way home. I don’t remember if I was old enough to drink yet. Regardless, it was mostly to keep the business legit, not how we got paid.

Despite some crummy events there were also ones that brought down the house. Pink Floyd let loose there, as did the Rolling Stones, and a few other people also. Our passes allowed us to wander around pretty much uninhibited, so we would sometimes just clump together at some aisle section near the stage to watch the show. Then we’d disperse to continue selling hot dogs, or coke, or popcorn, or whatever we’d decided to carry that night. Or stay and keep rockin’ out. And I must be honest, drunk / high revellers are absolute dears when it comes to tipping. Ten bucks, keep the change, on a five dollar sale, on average. And that was already marked up!

We had many beers on those nights.

Perseverance, in other words, is just giving something a chance. Of course, if there’s something you really want to do, perseverance could also mean the drive to go after it. You know, when life hands you lemons, you punch life in the face and rub those lemons in the open wounds. Asshole.

I think I could also suit it to meet my own needs and say that perseverance can also be defined as getting through something. I think that would still apply to the Woodbine Beach scenario. Sometimes, the path ahead is simply not yet paved – be sure to wear sensible footwear and watch your step. Or, in my case, the path ahead is just too damned long to see more of the same thing. Yeah, park benches, boardwalk, sand – I get it.

Finally, keep those plans tucked away safe. Boy, I gotta tell ya, there’s nothing worse than telling someone your intentions only to not go through with them. As someone with plenty of experience in that area, let me tell you that they don’t make hides thick enough to protect you from your own foot in your own ass.

By the way, I’m turning “The Three Easy Steps to Ultimate Success” into a comic book. It’s going to be a murder mystery set in the thirties with lots of action and intrigue. I think the kids of today would be hip to that sort of thing. Haven’t decided on a name yet but I’m leaning toward something with the word “Noir” in the title. I know the kids’ll dig that.

Continued in next part…

—

deck building

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I mean, it was nice to get outside and do some walking around, but the connections were, unfortunately, not revealing themselves. It left me feeling constipated. Until I sat down to enjoy some quality time on my gleaming ceramic throne. C’mon, you know full well that you do your best thinking in there too, admit it! (Okay, shower is a valid option as well – close second, but still.)

Well, you know, at times like those (“ceramic visions”, I call them), I get to thinking about the circle of life. The distance — theologically, spiritually, physically, and metaphysically — that the meal has gone, for example.

Right.

But it suddenly struck me that these pictures kinda remind me of how I arrived at my own station in life, or, “The Three Easy Steps to Ultimate Success”

When this goes into print, the comments will go on the jacket and in the foreword. ;)
When it’s an abject failure, I can point fingers. ;)

Step 1 – Get All Deep And Introspective (or at least fake it)

It’s good to take stock of what one enjoys in life. I kinda stumbled into what I’m doing today but the roots run pretty cleanly back to the early nineties. Ah, the nineties, KRS One was boogieing down, my now-ex had completed planning the first diabolical stage in my downfall (I didn’t even know her yet!), and I was lugging a heavy backpack and being propositioned by unsavoury gentlemen in Morningside Park on my way to be with my beloved computers at West Hill C.I. (collegiate institute = high school – don’t ask, don’t know). And the other classes too, I guess. Oh, and I had a few friends – outcasts. I know, everyone says that. But I really think we were.

One of my friends showed up at my house freaking out that his dad was gonna kill him. Ended up, that didn’t happen :) I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I think the family was connected to bikers, and this was more-or-less a regular drunken ritual when dad rolled in. They sure looked like bikers. Definitely the other side of the tracks.

My other friend threw a murder mystery game at his house. We all came dressed in costumes. I was a gender-neutral doctor (the invite didn’t specify!).

I don’t mean to imply he was gay. No, not that I know of, he was just somewhat eccentric in that Alfred Hitchcock or Orson Welles sort of way. If you get my meaning.

For some reason, I always imagined meeting K. at some time as an arch nemesis. It’s only fitting that we’d have been childhood friends; I could see him receding into the bitter shadows of the world and, after years of silent toil in the darkness, emerging and revealing some sort of terrifying new weapon with which to obliterate the masses. Unless his demands are met. Send in Agent Patrick.

As cool as that would be, I sincerely hope life’s treated him kindly.

Although I’ve diverged a bit from the original course, every point thus far could’ve been interjected with the amazement I felt upon first seeing a friend’s Atari 2600. Holy … freakin’ … shit … you can play games on your TV! Okay that was a bit earlier in my life, but later it was the Nintendo or the Genesis or whatever cool new gaming system they had. Halcyon days. So – futuristic.

A rear-projection TV was still the shit in those days, you must understand. All about context. But I can clearly recall dozens of examples where technology shone her bedazzling jewels before me – and I reached out. And look what we have now: Windows 7! (and whatever crap they have on the Mac) Again … context; everything on the computer at that time was DOS. Do you know what that is? And would you care if I told you? And would the explanation lull you into a gentle slumber? Right, so there you go.

Anyway, life was giving me a valuable skill, and I do so enjoy making a computer dance. And that, I believe, is where ultimate success begins. Finding that thing that one can devote slavish hours to. You can always change your mind later to one jackass pursuit or another, like blogging or taking photos. It’s not the end of the world. The important thing is the love. And that you can’t fake.

For me, that’s been there along with all the other things that happened (and keep happening), many of which you’ll have to read in the follow-up to “The Three Easy Steps to Success”. I’m tentatively calling it “An Immigrant’s Journey – The Writing of The Three Easy Steps to Success”. Heart-wrenching stuff.

Continued in next part…

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