Georgetown Memories

I was digging through some old files and books that I was planning on throwing into my storage area downstairs when I came across my old student register when I had enrolled at Georgetown University. It has been almost five years since I enrolled at Georgetown, and every new student received a register that had the name, photo, high school, interests, and hometown of every freshman that was entering the university that year. Georgetown was a small school, with fewer than 6,000 total students, so it wasn’t hard for them to fit all the incoming students into a small book.

Part of the reason I picked Georgetown University — in addition to the fact that it had the best foreign service program in the country and that it once had an amazing basketball team — is because it was such a small school and I was assured of meeting lots of people, but not too small to get easily sick of them. Another significant reason I picked Georgetown, however, is because it was a Jesuit school.

I’ve always known the Jesuit education system to be focused on a side of education that other schools (like the University of Toronto where I am right now) tend to ignore: the impact that your learning has on the community. In fact, in all my classes, activities, and organizations at GU, I was continually challenged by campus leaders and my professors to discover ways to apply my learning directly to the community that surrounded us.

That all being a preamble to my little story. In my first few days at Georgetown, I was invited to a small reception hosted by the John Carroll Scholars, and I met a Jesuit there (I think it was Father Pilarz, but I’m horrible with remembering names) and as soon as I went to say hullo to him, he addressed me by name and started up a conversation about my hobbies and interests, even though I had never met this man before in my life. Of course, I was impressed, but more than that, I was a little creeped out.

I found out later that he memorized the register every year, so that he knew every single incoming student’s name, hobbies and hometown and could engage with them as soon as he met them. Quite a noble and difficult endeavour, but he’s done it every year, and I imagine he still does. So while unearthing my old Georgetown Register definitely did bring back memories of partying and heartache and learning and melancholy, it definitely brought back memories of dedication, motivation, and the drive to make a difference in someone’s life: even if it was just by knowing their name.

24

Four years ago, on the day I turned twenty years old, I spent the entire morning in bed suffering from a minor existential crisis; I had lived for two decades and hadn’t really accomplished much. After all, by the age of twenty, Bill Gates had founded Microsoft, Mary Shelley had written Frankenstein, Aretha Franklin was a reputed recording artist, Asa Long was the US chess champion, Billy the Kid had murdered over twelve people, William Webb Ellis had invented the sport of rugby, Tracy Austin had won the US Open, and Jane Austen published her second novel, Pride and Prejudice. Me? I was stuck at Georgetown University in a program I didn’t enjoy, with people I didn’t like all that much, and with no real earth-shattering accomplishments to list beside my name.

Four years later, I have no qualms about waking up in the morning. Sure, I still have yet to do anything notable in my life, but I’m okay with that. In fact, I think my most notable accomplishment in the past four years has been to finally realize that I don’t need to be a Nadia Comaneci (gymnastics gold at 14) or a George Gershwin (famous composer at 16) or even a Steve Jobs (Apple Computers founder at 21) in order to feel validated: I am happy with who I am and what I have done, albeit small, to change the lives of the people around me.

If my years from the age of twenty to twenty-four have been marked by a quasi-quarter-life crisis, I will readily claim that the big two-four represents a break away from such a time of confusion of identity and questioning of self-worth, and instead represents a time where I am invigorated with ideas and excited by prospects of the future. Sameer Vasta at twenty-four is a different man than Sameer Vasta at twenty, and I surely hope that shows.

Plus, I don’t need to worry, both my idols (Ernest Hemingway and JD Salinger) didn’t publish their first novels until the ages of 27 and 32 respectively. Hehehe. So happy birthday to me, and thanks for a great two dozen years of being alive.

Slammin’ Night in Toronto

There are those of you who, like me, will be stuck in Toronto for Reading Week (the Canadian equivalent of spring break that happens in mid-February), actually attempting to do some reading instead of gallivanting around Cancun or Punta Cana. It’s not all bad though: there’s always something exciting going on in the city, and this Reading Week, that something exciting is the Toronto Poetry Slam.

Slam poetry is very much a spectator sport: the audience has a large part to play in the proceedings, and the Toronto Poetry Slam attracts not only some of the best spoken word poets in the city, but quite a fun audience as well. I had the opportunity to sit down with Dave Silverberg, founder of Toronto Poetry Slam and ask him a few questions:

What is a poetry slam?

A poetry slam is the competitive art of performance poetry. Poets take the stage, deliver original pieces, and judges from the audience rate them using score cards. Poetry slam has been around for exactly twenty years, starting in Chicago at the Get Me High Lounge. It’s groundbreaking, high energy, and a unique blend of poetry, hip-hop, performance art, and interactivity.

How does spoken word poetry at a slam differ from traditional poetry readings?

It’s all about the energy and audience reaction. At a slam, the audience is encouraged to hoot, holler, stamp their feet, boo, cheer, gasp and swoon. At a poetry slam, the pieces are usually more performance oriented, often memorized, and rarely airy and light. The best pieces have a lot substance that make you want to stand up and cheer!

How did the Toronto Poetry Slam begin?

I started TPS because I noticed no monthly slam catering to a poetry-hungry city. Toronto needs a monthly slam, and the response I’ve been getting since I began in November has been very encouraging. Toronto wants a slam, that I know for sure.

What can we expect at the next slam?

That’s the beauty of slam — they’re unpredictable. You never know who will take the stage, what kind of poets or beatboxers will perform. Definitely, people can expect some amazing spoken word talent this city has to offer — but what people can expect for sure is a high-quality guest feature: Brendan McLeod, from Vancouver BC, has competed internationally and is a slam poet whose poems touch on topics as wide-ranging as growing up religious to meeting a grizzly bear. He’s worth the price of admission alone!

The next Toronto Poetry Slam takes place on February 24, 2006 at the Victory Cafe and starts at 9pm. Dave does suggest getting there early, because it does fill up pretty quickly. Poets hoping to compete should arrive by 8:30pm.

Bad Judgment versus Freedom of the Press

I haven’t said much about the cartoon controversy because in all honesty, the way it has been approached in general infuriates me.

First of all, as a practicing Muslim, the fact that the cartoons actually depict the Prophet (pbuh) does not offend me in the least. The physical depiction of the Prophet is discouraged within the faith, but that fact alone does not deserve the outrage it has caused. The way it depicts the Prophet, however, is particularly distasteful, but could have been tolerated had it been the work of a poor cartoonist. The fact that the newspaper sought to create some kind of outrage by publishing the cartoons — the point of the whole exercise was to offend, when you look at it closely — is clearly the crux of the problem.

That being said, I resent the fact that people in European and North American media are framing this controversy as one of the freedom of the press. Anyone that is involved with the press at all know that the press only has three limitations: they can not overtly incite hate, they can not be obscene, and they can not commit libel. The publication of these cartoons does none of these directly, and therefore are within the limits of free speech. The issue at hand is not free speech, however; instead, it is an issue of blatantly bad judgment.

The Aga Khan, in a recent speech made when receiving an Honorary Doctorate by the University of Evora in Portugal, clearly spoke of the responsibility of the media to exercise good judgment that is innately ingrained in the concept of freedom of the press: “This is not to say that governments should censor offensive speech. Nor does the answer lie in violent words or violent actions. But I am suggesting that freedom of expression is an incomplete value unless it is used honourably, and that the obligations of citizenship in any society should include a commitment to informed and responsible expression.”

While it is easy to condemn the publishers of the newspaper for their deliberate lack of judgment and the incendiary way they have responded to the situation, I must bemoan the way some — and I emphasize the word ‘some’, because this is in no way indicative of the actions of the whole Muslim community — people around the world have responded to this controversy through violence. I fully respect CAIR’s decision to address the cartoon controversy through education, and I believe that any misunderstandings and offense taken during this whole event will only be properly addressed through dialogue and not any kind of violent protest.

Hart House [murmur] Project

You know those ghosts that live in Hart House at the University of Toronto? Well, they all have their stories, and now you just may have a chance to hear them.

[murmur], which has brought a new dimension to urban exploration in major Canadian cities, is launching it’s first project at the University of Toronto at Hart House, a historic and central building on campus. Launching in mid-March, the project will feature up to fifteen designated plaques in Hart House where students, staff, and visitors will be able to call a number on a mobile phone and hear stories that deliver a more intimate historical record of the location. Lasting just a few minutes each, the stories will be an archive of personal experiences and will be a reflection of the unique identity of the area.

The [murmur] network reaches from Vancouver to Montreal, and has an extensive presence in the Annex and in Kensington Market here in Toronto. Established in 2003, the project allows people to explore their city through collective stories and personal anecdotes — after all, as [murmur] creator Shawn Micallef says, “interesting stories aren’t limited to tourist attractions.” Micallef, associate editor of the acclaimed Spacing Magazine that explores Toronto’s public spaces, compares [murmur] to “taking a tour of the city but from a really intimate personal point of view” and hopes that such a project will help people understand their own city at a more personal level.

My own experience with [murmur] began last summer when I downloaded the Kensington [murmur] map from the website and went on a day of exploration — just me, my cell phone, and my camera. Each [murmur] story offered me a variety of insights into the exact area where I was standing — at times even directing me to look in a certain direction or walk in a certain path to get the full understanding of the experience — that a normal walk through Kensington Market wouldn’t normally capture. Not only was the experience quite enjoyable, but also helped me see Kensington as less of a mish-mash of shops and more of a collection of experiences that have shaped its history.

The Hart House [murmur] project promises to be an excellent way for students, staff, and visitors to learn about the people that continue to shape the history of Hart House and the share in the stories that places like the Great Hall and the Theatre hold. If you want to contribute your own Hart House stories or learn more about UofT’s [murmur] project, contact Jenifer Newcombe.