I arrived in Paris this past Friday morning tired, cold, and rained on.

I had just gotten off the bus and was walking towards my hotel, luggage in tow, when I witnesses an accident between a small car and a man on a bicycle. In there, the dilemma: the man on the bicycle only spoke Spanish, while the man in the small car only spoke English. The local police officer who stopped to help didn’t speak a word of any language other than French.

So there I was — with my tired and cold English, my rusty French, and my broken Spanish — standing in the middle of the intersection, luggage in tow, surrounded by three men who could only speak to one another through me.

In the end, the police officer walked away satisfied that the situation was under control, the Englishman drove away after receiving a harsh warning, and the Spaniard rode away with just a small bruise on his left arm.

Leaving me alone to walk to my hotel, luggage in tow.

Welcome to Paris.

Heading in to work this morning, I saw yellow buses filled with students heading back to school for the fall. Which got me thinking about homework.

Homework, as I knew it in middle school and high school, was a completely backwards concept. Class time was always spent in solitary activities like reading textbooks and listening to the teacher drone on about a particular subject; homework, on the other hand, was usually collaborative or required some kind of interaction and exploration.

Here’s what I’m thinking I’d do if I ever became a high school teacher:

I’d record my lectures in short bits (12-15 minutes each session) with accompanying visuals and let my students download them as video clips that they can put on their iPods. Class time would then be used for question & answer sessions, engaging discussions on the content they had already consumed, and group projects where collaboration and face-to-face contact was important.

In that model, homework would cease becoming a chore that got graded and scared students. Instead, it would be a form of preparation for students who would then come to a classroom environment that focused on their interaction with the content rather than simply the content itself.

Maybe I’m just being an idealist here. Do you think my model for instruction is feasible? Have you heard of any other similar teaching techniques?

It isn’t easy being ticklish.

In fact, being tickled too much is often akin to torture. The only problem is that the person tickling you doesn’t realize how much pain and agony you’re in because instead of screaming and wincing, you’re laughing and rolling around on the floor in the fetal position.

I am and always have been ticklish. Very ticklish.

I often start clenching my muscles and giggling just at the thought of being tickled. People don’t think twice about tickling me; if they want to tickle me, they will, no matter what I say.

I found a quote by Demetri Martin that explains this phenomenon perfectly:

If somebody asks you the question, “are you ticklish?” it doesn’t matter what you say. They are going to touch you. If they say “are you ticklish?” and you don’t want to be touched, you have to say something like “I have diarrhea. And yes….I’m ticklish.”

Tickling is cruel and unusual torture. Most of the time. (I’ll admit that there are, ahem, moments when a good tickle is appreciated.)

Is there some kind of support group for extremely ticklish people who live their life in fear of errant fingers?

An internet-friend (I can call you a friend, right Jessica?) is turning 22 years old in a month, and she’s asking for some advice.

What advice would you give your 22-year-old self?

I’m going to take this opportunity to share some advice I’ve been giving all my friends for years: live with your parents and pay off your debt.

It doesn’t sound all too glamorous (after all, only losers live with their parents at the age of 22, right?) but it’s one of the smartest things you can do. Allow me to share with you a quick story.

A friend of mine graduated with his accounting degree and got a job at one of the Big Four straight out of school. Needless to say, an accountant at a Big Four makes some good money. Instead of moving downtown and living the good life, he instead stayed with his parents in the suburbs until the age of 26 and commuted to work. In his four years living with his parents and not paying rent, he managed to not only pay off his student debt, but also to save enough money to buy a luxury condo by the lake — and pay off over 50% of the purchase price.

He’s now 26 years old and owns a lakefront condo with a mortgage that will be paid off in five years. In his early thirties, he’ll be mortgage-free with a six-figure disposable income and really living the life.

Now tell me, does that sound like a loser to you? Not quite.

Save your money. Pay off your debt. Living with your parents in your early 20s isn’t bad for your image: it’s a smart move.

That’s my advice Jessica. I know there may be other factors that will influence your residence options, but that’s just my two cents.

Do you have any advice to give your 22-year-old self?

It seems to be a bit of old news now, but I was thinking about the pregnancy pact story in Gloucester, MA, and something hit me when I read the statement that the principal “found out one of the fathers is a 24-year-old homeless guy.”

This story isn’t about pregnancy. It’s not about contraceptives or sex education or Catholic sensibilities. It’s about self-worth.

I asked a few friends whether they had ever considered going out and getting pregnant just for the sake of having a child. Some of them said yes. What’s telling is that those thoughts entered their minds at the times in their lives where they felt the most alone and the most marginalized and unconnected.

The pregnancy pact problem in Gloucester is really an issue of teenage girls not having a place in their culture where they feel as though they are valuable. For them, their value now comes from being part of a group that is going through a shared experience: having a baby.

I’m not saying teenage pregnancy is wrong all the time, but I am saying that if these girls were given options, activities, and communities where they felt like they were important, their self-worth may have been at a point where joining (or even thinking of) a pregnancy pact would not be appealing.

How do we create those communities and environments?

It’s 6:30 in the morning, and I’m staring at a computer screen.

Now, some of you may be thinking that this behavior is unhealthy. Those of you that are thinking that, of course, are night owls. See, it’s 6:30am and I’ve already showered, shaved, made and eaten breakfast, and chatted on the phone with a friend of mine across the ocean in London.

I’m an early riser.

A night owl in a world of morning people

I wasn’t always an early riser. One of my most vivid memories from high school is heading back to my dorm room as the sun rises and sleeping in until noon. College was no better. It wasn’t until I left school and started working that I realized that the most productive hours of my day were the hours before lunch.

My shift from night owl to early riser wasn’t some laborious task like Deepa Ranganathan believes it can be. Instead, I went to bed early one night having made the conscious decision to wake up early the next morning. I woke up at 6am the next day and haven’t looked back.

These days, I’m up at 5:30am and in the office by 7am. My secret for going from night owl to morning person has nothing to do with fancy alarm clocks or caffeine intakes or melatonin pills or exercise regimes. It has everything to do with intent.

The only way to really wake up early in the morning is to truly believe in your conviction to become a morning person. If you can convince yourself that you really want to wake up before the light of dawn, you will. The body is remarkable in that way.

Oh, and start going to bed earlier.

A morning person in a world of night owls

And therein lies the problem.

Waking up early and staying healthy is almost impossible when you live in a world where all the fun stuff starts at 11pm at the earliest.

I need to be in bed by 11:30pm at the latest in order to make sure I get my optimal amount of sleep. When you ask me to go dancing at midnight or go catch the late screening of a movie, please don’t be offended when I say no.

Unlike you, I’ve been up for 18 hours. I’m too tired to go out tonight.

So for those of you who are considering making the jump from night owl to morning person, heed my warning: your productivity may go up, but your social life will suffer.

Until, of course, 8pm becomes the new midnight. Then we’re golden.

For now, I’m heading out to work. After all, it is just before 7am.

I had a conversation with a few friends last weekend about casual romantic encounters and the ability to become physically intimate with someone without necessarily being emotionally attached to them.

It was late Saturday night, so I don’t think I was as articulate as I should have been. Which is why I hope they read this essay by Joel Walkowski. He brings up the same issues with much more eloquence than I had. For example, on transient romance:

For my generation, friendship often morphs into a sexual encounter and then reverts to friendship the next day. And it’s easy as long as you don’t put yourself on the line or try too hard.

And more, on expectations and maturity:

Maybe it’s just that we have learned nothing can compare to the perfect moment of the unexpected hookup — wet lips on the beach, lying in the sand — and so we aim to accumulate as many as possible. Or maybe we’re simply too immature to commit. That has been the rap against guys forever, but now women think the same way. With the world (and the world of sex) at our fingertips, it’s difficult to choose, to settle, to compromise.

I’d recommend reading the whole essay not only for Joel’s insight, but for its lyricism as well. And then let me know what you think of it.

I love mushrooms. And it looks like Dan Cederholm is a big fan of them as well.

This might not seem like earth-shattering news, but there was one sentence in Dan’s post that really struck a chord:

It’s funny how we box ourselves in.

I’ll admit it: I am often extremely rash in making decisions that pertain to my tastes and interests. Unlike Dan, I’ve always known that I love mushrooms, but I’ve been guilty of boxing myself in in the past. A few examples…

“I don’t wear jeans.” It’s true, I was one of those snobby kids in high school that thought men should only wear khakis and chinos (and dress pants, of course) so that they always look professional. That was, of course, until I slipped into a fresh pair of Hugo Boss jeans in college and never looked back. Now, I own more pairs of jeans than there are days of the week.

“I don’t eat eggplant.” These days, I find that statement absolutely ridiculous. Eggplant is one of my favorite vegetables. There was a time, however, when I could barely look at an aubergine without feeling sick. Now I actually use eggplant in my cooking more than any other vegetable.

“I don’t watch hockey.” A real sports fan in Canada (especially Toronto) can get frustrated easily. Even when big things are happening in other major sports, every sports broadcast will lead with hockey news. There was a time when the World Series was on at the same time as pre-season NHL, and almost every bar in the city was showing hockey. That’s just ridiculous. So you can understand why I grew up hating hockey. While it is still not my favorite sport, these days I’m always glad to watch some NHL playoffs and some Memorial Cup highlights.

“I don’t eat onions.” Yeah, so that hasn’t changed. I can’t stand onions.

All that being said, I just wanted to share these examples to get you all thinking about how easy it is to say the word “no” or “never.” Next time you box yourself in, think about Dan and his mushrooms.

Have you changed your mind — and climbed out of the box — on something you felt strongly about recently?

Back when I was in high school and college, there were several bad behaviors that were often worn as badges of honor by my fellow students: not studying for an exam, pulling an all-nighter, getting so drunk that you can’t remember being taken to the hospital for alcohol poisoning, hooking up with people you don’t know, etc.

Now, as we’ve all grown up, most of us have seen the folly of our ways and would hardly brag and boast about many of these immature activities. Except for one:

Being able to function on little-to-no sleep is still seen as a noble trait. I think it’s absolutely ridiculous.

Sleep makes you a better person…

A recent post on Signal vs. Noise listed a few drawbacks to sleep deprivation:

• Stubbornness.
• Lack of creativity.
• Diminished morale.
• Irritability.

Speaking from personal experience, every single one of those drawbacks is completely true. I only wish it didn’t take me over 25 years to realize that a lack sleep makes me an unproductive, unhappy, and unfriendly person.

What David Heinemeier’s post forgets to mention is that not only does sleep deprivation affect your mental capacity, it also affects you physically. Sluggishness is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to lack of sleep-related health problems: not spending enough time in bed can lead to weight gain and obesity, which in turn is a precursor for all sorts of problems like diabetes and heart disease.

…bragging about your lack of sleep does not.

We all know that adequate sleep is an important part of a healthy lifestyle. So why do we tend to revere people that don’t get enough?

There was a time when I admired people that could function on four hours of sleep (I get about six hours a night myself) and would ask them for tips on how to stay awake without suffering from exhaustion. These days, I look up to people that get eight hours of sleep and still have time to work, play, and spend time with their families.

If you think about it, people who “don’t have enough time” to sleep a healthy amount are not the productivity machines we assume them to be. Instead, they’re just bad at time management.

We should be admiring the people who put in efficient work days, spend time on leisure activities, manage to take care of themselves and their families, give back to their communities, and somehow are still able to get a serious amount of shuteye.

So next time someone brags to you about only sleeping for four hours a night and putting in exceedingly long days at the office, tell them you got eight hours of sleep last night and smile. They’ll soon realize that they’re not in college anymore, and that bad behaviors are no longer badges of honor; instead, they’re markers of immaturity.

It’s just past eleven at night, so it’s time for me to hit the sack. Good night.

I have a friend who lives in London that makes me incredibly happy every time I see her. Not only do we always have a wonderful time together, but she always challenges me, asks me questions that get me thinking about the world and my place within it.

Last night, as we were out for a few drinks at Jewel, she asked me a question that has actually been on my mind for a few days: “What are your magical goals and dreams?”

Funny enough, this wasn’t the first time I was thinking about my childhood dreams in the past few days. Early last week, I came across an inspirational video of a lecture delivered by Randy Pausch entitled “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams.”

For those of you that haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend downloading the high quality version of the lecture on iTunes for free.

In light of my friend’s question and Randy’s lecture, I decided to think about my childhood — actually, teeenage — dreams. More specifically: what were my great goals for my life ahead when I was thirteen years old?

Confessions of a teenage cheeseball

I recently found an old school project that I had done in eighth grade where I had listed my life goals. If you laugh, I don’t mind: I know I was a little cheesy and cutesy back then. The funny thing is, I still am.

• Be published (preferably regularly as a staff writer) in The New Yorker.
• Make someone (even a stranger) smile and really feel happy every day.
• Be the kind of father where my child honestly thinks I’m the world’s greatest dad.
• Always be aware of the beauty around me and the inherent goodness in everything and everyone.

Done laughing at my mushy schmaltz? Well, that’s a glimpse into the mind of Sameer Vasta at the age of thirteen.

Confessions of an adult cheeseball

The scary thing I need to admit now is that the mind of Sameer Vasta at the age of thirteen isn’t much different from the mind of Sameer Vasta at age twenty-six. To this day, those four dreams are still very much alive and still drive my every action every day.

And for those of you that think I’m being under-ambitious and have picked dreams that are too easy, let me tell you that getting published in The New Yorker is probably the easiest of tasks on my list. Think about it.

The other three require constant reflection upon the things I do and the way I interact with the people and places around me. They are, as my friend said, my “magical goals and dreams,” and nobody says magic is easy.