Buzzwords A’plenty!

A buzzword is a word that used to sell an item without really explaining anything about it. Buzzwords can have a very technical origin, and they might have meant something useful at some point, but by the time they are bandied about by the general populace, they’ve become vague placeholders that are meant to trigger emotion, not transmit information. Buzzwords are fantastic selling tools, because they shift the purchasing decision away from “what features does this item have and do I need those features?” to “do I feel good when I think about buying this product?”

The LPC Biennial convention was awash in buzzwords. It was buzzword-driven, really. Bold. New. Change. Modern. Status Quo. Grassroots. Insiders. These words carry connotations and implications, but they have little practical value. I can proclaim that I will boldly innovate my next meal, but that could easily mean that I’m going to put fried eggs on top of chocolate pudding. Bold doesn’t mean good, and status quo doesn’t mean bad.

Initially, I was perplexed by how the majority of attendees embraced these buzzwords without asking what practical application they would have. They grumbled about “the insiders and elite” of the party being the cause of all evil, but the two leading presidential candidates were as inside as you can possibly get. As I caught on to the sense and function of the convention, I understood what was happening. It wasn’t about logic and pragmatic decision-making, it was about the psychology of identity and trauma.

Pretend that the Liberal Party is an individual, and consider how traumatic the May 2nd loss was, especially after 6+ years of being insulted and belittled publicly. A person who suffered through an experience that challenged their ego and self-esteem so profoundly would still be affected by the event 8 months later. So the party came together to reassure itself and repair its ego.  The change that they all rallied for was to change from losers to winners. And can’t we all get behind change like that?

Another huge part of the convention was reconnecting the members to the leaders, past and present. Faith in the leaders (and by extrapolation in the party itself) had become absent and worn out, and the members needed a chance to feel appreciated and listened to. Re-forging that bond between troops and generals was incredibly important, and the event was designed to do that. It was fan service for the loyal party members.

I wouldn’t want you to think that I was somehow disillusioned or jaded by the convention process. The more that I interact with groups of people and watch how they direct their own lives, the more I understand how much power emotion has over our minds. I know that the psychological element of the convention was much more important than policy book-keeping and constitutional bickering. Politics is a competitive sport, and the party had to get the fans back on side and excited.

As a side-note, I’m currently of the opinion that all human interaction is some kind of sales pitch, and that’s not a bad thing. We share information and test our knowledge by trying to convince others to adopt our perspective. So don’t attach any stigma to the term “sales” because we’re all looking for a little buy-in.

Missing my own bed

The school trip is an experience that is almost entirely a mystery to me. My mother’s over-protective tendencies, combined with our families financial restrictions, meant that any trip that had any perceived physical risk, would go out of the city and/or last longer than an afternoon was not for me. I have a clear memory of my grade 5 teacher (Mr. Finnegan, I believe) personally calling my mother to assure her that I would not be at high risk of grievous head trauma if I went roller skating with the class. And, other than sore feet and a significant amount of slow, wobbly turning, the outing was perfectly safe.

It took that level of intercession to change my mother’s mind, but an overnight trip was still out of the question. I understand what fueled her fear-I was a sickly kid, hospitalized several times for asthma attacks, and perpetually plagued with respiratory illness, ear aches, and sore throats. (For the medically curious readers looking for environmental triggers, the answer to your question is yes, my father smoked inside of the house for the entirety of my formative years). So my mother’s anxiety was understandable, and it transferred in some part to me. I would look at any potential variance from my normal routine and immediately examine it for health risks and other dangers. This all fed a general fear of the unknown.

But as you’ve witnessed in this blog, I’ve gone through a real change in the way I see my own life, and the things I want to do with it. And this new ambition and excitement has pushed me past my old reservations and into new unexplored experiences. This last weekend I went, by myself, to Ottawa for the Liberal Biennial Convention, and I discovered that the emotional reactions I would have had as a school-age child on a similar trip had simply been deferred until now. There were times when I was lost, confused, and scared, usually when trying to find a bus stop, or waiting to fall asleep in a strange bed.

The first night away from home was especially potent. I was physically exhausted from working until 11PM the night before, then sleeping fitfully before embarking on a 14 hour day of travel. I stumbled out of the convention centre at 9:30, with only a tenuous understanding of where to catch the bus. A few blocks of trudging through the snow passed, my luggage dragging my arms down and straining, and I staved off the desire to freak out, cry and panic long enough to find the bus stop. On the packed bus hurtling into the darkness, a sense of profound loneliness overwhelmed me. I was far away from my wonderful son and my loving wife, heading farther away from the only people I knew in the area, towards an apartment somewhere in the darkness. I was homesick.  Thankfully, I had enough presence of mind to remember that being exhausted and sleep-deprived always makes me overly sensitive and wildly emotional, so I resisted the urge to totally break down, and instead I crawled into bed and waited for sleep. Night 2 was much better, though the homesickness was still present.

Along with the normal, negative emotions that come with being away from home independently for the first time, came the positive experiences. I made a slew of new friends, people who made me laugh and made me think. I had a new. And whenever I was in the convention itself, I felt like I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t nervous about making a mistake or being disliked. I was confident.

And now I see the incredible value in giving your children the chance to experience the world independently. There is a point where protecting them from potential but unlikely harm inhibits their personal growth and their self-esteem. You can’t know how well you can handle a strange situation until you survive one.

Putting on your fancy clothes

There’s a scene in the movie “Step Brothers” where Will Farrell’s character decides that he needs to be a grownup, not a 36-year-old man-child, and he asks his therapist for help (I’d put a video clip of it here but I couldn’t find one so you’ll have to make do with a text quote):

“…and the thing I wanna ask you, to help me… To show me how I can be a grown-up. Do I carry my high-school diploma around? What do you do with your hair? What happens if there’s inclement weather? Where do you…? What do you wear? Can you wash clothes in the dishwasher?”

As I gather up my fancy clothes and pack in preparation of my trip to Ottawa for the Liberal convention this weekend, this scene keeps playing through my head. I feel like an old kid sneaking into the grownups party, and I don’t know what I’m doing. How do I properly pack a garment bag? Do I have a garment bag? Will anyone look at my shoes? Don’t mistake this bewilderment for fear or hesitation. I’m very excited, and my excitement is consistently overruling my traditional anxious fretting. Anytime a detail pops into my head that I haven’t really thought about yet, I’m shrugging it away with a simple “I’ll figure it out”. Confidence and excitement are great friends to have along for a trip.

And much more than the political wheeling and dealing and hobnobbing, I’m thrilled to see my nation’s capital. I had never realized how profound my patriotic love of this country really is, but the prospect of seeing the home of our democracy has me giddy. Maybe I’ll walk up Parliament Hill for the first time in my life and I’ll get a face full of icy slush thrown on my by a passing cab, and the illusion will be broken. Even if that happens, I suspect I’m still going to have a pretty inspiring moment.

I’ll try to blog during the weekend, as I get tossed about by the byzantine machinations of the political beast, with people on all sides of me pitching their ideas  trying to sway me to their side. 18 hours ’til Ottawa!