Rationalisation

As an irrational and impulsive man I'm always amused when people list all the great reasons and justifications for their actions. People seem obsessed with being able to list all the logical arguments that explain why they've done whatever they did. The fact is that most of us just do whatever feels right and then work out the justifications after the fact. Or, we spend ages trying to find ways to justify our plans and intentions even though they're based on whatever wierd feelings or inuitions are directing our decision making.

This is all a bit comical, because the only reason why people think it's important to have a set of rational explanations for their behaviour is because everyone else does it. Basically we're all just a bunch of meat robots bumping our way down the dark, furniture-filled corridor of life. And as we stumble past the antique dressing table and whack our shins on the minimalist ottoman we deseperately try to work out good reasons for what we're doing.

I find my life works best when I can ignore the compulsion to rationalise my behaviour. It's not that I'm recommending acting irrationally. We're already acting irrationally, I'm just saying we should be comfortable with it. So I'm going to go out there and admit it. I have developed an irrational dislike for the town of Revelstoke. Although it doesn't make sense, I can explain where it comes from:

First off, it rains all the time. If I were rational, I'd be excited about how all that rain was going to fall as snow in a few weeks. Well I'm not. I'm pissed off about how it's grey and miserable all the time and it makes hitchhiking a grim prospect.

Secondly, when I last arrived in Revelstoke I got turfed out of the house I was supposed to move into in Rossland and got offered an impossible job interview by an employer who wouldn't return calls or emails to reschedule. Admittedly, both the bad things actually happened in Rossland, but I was in Revelstoke, so it goes on the list.

Thirdly, the people in Revelstoke talk up their skiing. This might sound weird, but people who talk up the skiing at their ski field annoy me like watching two terrible ultimate frisbee teams play a game wearing capes. If your skiing is so good, why are you standing here telling me about it instead of skiing there? Oh, there's no snow yet, you say? Well that's pretty weak. Where I come from, we don't need snow to go skiing. Wimp.

Fourthly, someone told me that I would probably need to switch to alpine ski gear to ski at Revelstoke. This is like the two ultimate terrible ultimate teams with capes forcing me to hold their pants while they play a no-pants scoobers only point. For those who don't know anything about ultimate, think about a bunch of annoying retards forcing you to be peripherally involved in them doing something retarded in a way specially conceived to be extra annoying and retarded. I resisted the urge to tell the guy that I had probably skied steeper terrain on my teles with no problems, or that I was easily strong and fit enough to ski their terrain (partly because I'm a gentleman, and partly because neither claim is true). I also resisted the urge to throw him into the nearby fire. That's three from three for me, which makes that a gold star day.

Fifthly, Revelstoke is flat. The town is on a flat area near a river. I'm innately suspicious of flat places.

So, there you have it. Revelstoke is a terrible place for no good reason. Now, if I was a rational person, I would stay in Revelstoke and force myself to somehow enjoy it. But I'm not, so I drove to Rossland (yes, I bought a van - more irrational decision making, I'll get to that some other time) where it first snowed (at night - yay!) and now it's sunny (yay!) and the grocery store sells chorizo (yay!). If I was a rational person I'd be cooped up in Revy swearing at the rain. Here in Rossland I'm about to go into town and buy a towel. Which just goes to show that being rational only screws your life up. And that I should stop leaving my towel behind when I go places.

Is it Fate?

First, to clear the air - lots of things have happened and I'm behind in my posts. I'll get some stuff up ASAP, but I need to do real life things like sort flights and get insurance and fix my poor poor skis. However, this is too significant to sit around on my laptop for weeks.

Most young boys grow up wanting to be firemen, or cowboys, or merchant bankers. I always wanted to be a 19th century German nihilist. While other lads were playing racist shoot-em-up games or conducting risky imaginary financial transactions, I was trimming my imaginary moustache, puffing on my imaginary pipe and keeping a keen eye out for the ubermensch.

And so, in later life, when I discovered The Sound of Music, it was natural that I would form a deep and lasting bond with this exceptional piece of musical theatre. Admittedly, the main characters are Austrians, and the whole point of the thing is that they're explicitly not Germans, but it's still great. How could you not fall in love with characters like Captain Von Trapp, the strong but secretly sensitive submarine captain, or Maria, who casts off the shackles of Christian pity to embrace the shackles of married life.

And so, it was with much excitement that I saw this entry in the Revelstoke Classifieds. Surely it can't be mere chance that one of the ski towns I'm thinking of heading to is performing The Sound of Music. And auditions are this Thursday! And the audition song is "Edelweiss"!

I suspect that when Nietzsche commanded us to embrace fate he wasn't thinking of travelling 13000kms to audition for a community musical. However, The Sound of Music hadn't even been written in Nietzsche's day, and I reckon he would have loved it.

As the Mother Superior would have said, "What is it Maria you can't face?"