Monthly Archives: July 2010

Tattoo Update. Bring on Operation: Cover Up the Cover Up!

28 Wednesday Jul 2010

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#21 on my 26 Before 26 is to finally finish my biggest tattoo. In May, I decided it was finally time to get my arse in gear. A couple of months ago, I went ahead with it and basically lost all my money, bawled like a baby, and got shouted at by  the most insensitive, arrogant twat of an artist ever. But last week, I was lucky enough to find a professional who can FIX EVERYTHING!!

Long story short: probably half a decade ago now, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to get matching tattoos with the guy I was with at the time. (Told you I was a smart cookie.) You all know about the epic levels of crapola in THAT relationship, and we were both left with solid, giant black tattoos of our initials intertwined. All I can say is thank heavens we artsied it up a bit and you can barely even tell they’re letters, but STILL, I was branded for life with what felt like an eternal reminder of my younger self’s moronitude.

Flash forward to the present. One of my best friends happens to be dating an INCREDIBLE artist, who drew me up a gorgeous cover up based on the artist’s instructions – “has to be all black to be able to cover it up, and has to be pretty giant.” He designed something PERFECT, and I was so excited to get going with it – a phoenix, symbolising growth from the ashes of the past into something better. We got about a third of the way through the outline before I couldn’t continue – there’s no way I was lasting more than 20 minutes of someone telling me what a baby I’m being and tattooing way too deep regardless of the back pain situation.

So for the last few months, I’ve had this. A piece of outline of a cover up which doesn’t look like anything. I’ve been more okay with it than I thought I would be – the bottom line is it’s no longer what it WAS, and it shows it’s on its way to becoming something else. Which is a good thing. The bad thing being that it kind of looks a bit rubbish.

Last week, I met with someone at a studio close to where I work. A coworker had recommended it to me after she’d gone there for a piercing, and told me just to check it out, saying it was very clean, they were extremely professional, and they even had nurses on staff, so if anyone was going to understand the back situation, they were.  After a few weeks waiting to get in, I went on my lunch break, and met Ivy. AKA MY NEW HERO. She took pictures of my back so she could show me the “ghosting” that’s already started to happen on the outline part. Because he went WAY too deep (apparently if you know someone’s going to have a hard time with the pain for whatever reason, you can outline in a light grey so you can do it really fast), way too dark, and didn’t stop when all the blood started going to the surface (remember those exercise pictures?) so black (apparently the least viscous ink) bled into all the capillaries. Hence it already starting to bleed out. She also informed me the design had way too little white space and would eventually all become one black blob (original jerk artist told me he was going to redesign it with more white space, and DID NOTHING), so long story short: we couldn’t continue this design.

But before I started crying, she also told me black wasn’t the way to go. With cover ups, you use colour and shadow to distract the eye AWAY from the thing you’re covering up. With something big and black, there’s an enormous central focus which makes it look MORE like a cover up. She showed me pages of cover-ups of black tattoos she’d done. Big, gorgeous, colourful, organic looking cover ups that looked amazing. She said this was going to be one of the most challenging things yet, but yes, we can do it. We get to wipe the slate clean. Yes, it’ll have to be ENORMOUS. Yes, it’ll be a 20-30 hour piece. Yes, it’ll cost a fortune. But yes, it’s going to be AWESOME.  I can still get a phoenix. We just have to incorporate colour, a light source (so the left side can be in shadow), and now I get to pick whatever style I want.

So for the next little bit, I’ve been instructed to Do My Research. Find loads of pictures so she can pull together the elements and design something that incorporates the styles and colours I actually like. I’M NOT FATED TO A GIANT BLACK MAN TATTOO. I’m SO excited, and I can’t wait to move on with this!! It’s going to be a long process… but I’m ready, full of renewed hope, slight terror, but determination. The finish line is finally in sight. Bring it. :)

Forget ‘sorry’; goodbye’s the hardest word

26 Monday Jul 2010

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Last week I mentioned the Fringe Festival, my absolute favourite time of the whole year, where hundreds of performers come from all over the world to brighten the city, filling it with imagination, culture, laughter and magic. With the Fringe naturally comes good times with friends, one of whom I only get to see as often as the festival itself.  I first met him back in 2004. I’d moved in with my then-boyfriend, an international street performer who made his living travelling the world, entertaining the masses. Some friends of his from LA were coming up to do a show, and he asked if it was okay if they stayed with us. It was my introduction to a now lifelong love of performing arts – and my first introduction to Shelby.

He was one of those people who could walk into a room and without saying anything, you already knew you were going to get along amazingly. I’ve only met a handful of people in my life who’ve radiated positive energy at such a high level that friendship was near instantaneous, and he’s definitely one of them.  “I live in LA but travel much of the year doing comedy shows. I’m a night person who’s into old Westerns, Vespas, Ukulele, Rooibos tea, road-trips, and will do most anything for a vegan crepe,” says his Facebook profile.  We meet once a year when he’ll arrive in Winnipeg, woolly chaps, stetson, and ukelele in hand, where we’ll spend the next two weeks sharing mixtapes of beautiful music and going out to eighties dance parties. Reminiscing about our favourite shows of festivals gone by – the ones who stole our hearts and imaginations and ran away with them forever. Exploring hidden bookstores, reading ghost stories of two hundred years ago, making cupcakes, alternating between watching heartbreaking love stories and marathons of Doctor Who. He’s seen me grow from a girl of nineteen-year-old naivety and has remained a loyal, wonderful friend throughout. I went to stay with him in LA a couple of years ago, spending three days riding around on bicycles in the sunshine, exploring parks, forests, and tourist attractions, dressing up to the nines, and sleeping on his sailboat.  This year, he stayed with us, and it’s been the highlight of my year. Especially after I came home to find he’d spent the day doing things like this in my living room – you will LOVE this: :)

Saying goodbye after the Fringe every year ALWAYS breaks my heart, and I find myself immediately counting down the days until we can do it all over again. But that heart also radiates an enormous appreciation for having such a brilliant friend, who, despite living thousands of miles away, will be one for life.

In the too-near future, while I’m away in England next week, I’m also going to have to say goodbye to another good friend. I’ve been fortunate not to have had to have been separated from too many people in my life; other than once, last year, one left for B.C. to pursue his Masters, which was hard, but other than that, I think the only other time I had to face separation was when I left England ten years ago.  But in the next week and a bit, I’m going to have to say goodbye to someone else.

Ted has, shockingly, only been in my life for the last 3 months, 11 hours, and 8 minutes (ever go in your Facebook inbox and find the very first message exchanged with someone? Try it, it’s fun!), but it seems like we should’ve been friends forever. We met online through Facebook Friend Suggestions, and it turned out we had quite a few people in common. After about a month of exchanging emails, we met up in person (yes, out in public, and yes, my back was covered just in case) and talked for HOURS.  I was worried about what Sweet might think, me going out to meet a bloke off the Internet, but he all for it, fully supportive of my huge (and rather sad) desire to make friends. So I went. And it was brilliant. Conversation was effortless, intelligent, and fun. We were reading the same book, we both had random philosophical ponderings, and we both wanted to set goals for ourselves. Again, friendship was almost instantaneous, and over the last few weeks we’ve shared hours of coffee and wanderings around the city, sharing hopes and dreams, plans, goals, and life stories. He wanted to keep a journal, so I got one for his trip; I wanted to learn to sing in front of people, he invited me to karaoke and told me I’d be great. (Sidenote: THIS WEDNESDAY. HOLD ME.) True friends do that – they’re there to listen to all the good things and bad things about you and still like you, encourage you, and want to stick around anyway.  Kind of like the big brother I always wanted. :)

We went to the Fringe last week, when he broke the news: he’s being transferred to Ontario. Permanently. Being face-to-face I had to stifle tears!! I was thrilled about the new opportunity, but so sad it had to come so soon – and of course while I’m out of the country. I came home and whined about it to Sweet so much that I completely forgot a writing deadline! That night I got a text message – “don’t worry. Everything has a reason for happening. I’m still here for now, me leaving is in the future.”  Did I not mention? That book we were both reading was A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle (review to come!), author of The Power of Now, next up on my list. This friend has introduced me to the whole idea of living in the present without worrying so much about the future – something I’m forever going to try to live by. It’s funny how some people’s chapters in our lives can be so brief, but the difference they’ve made can last so much longer.

But for the next couple of weeks, I’m not going to think about saying goodbye.  Because today, it’s easier than ever to stay in touch with the people that mean the most. I’ve been out of England for ten years, and someone I met when I was about twelve remains one of my closest friends to this day. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be spending a couple of days with someone who lived across the street when I was 9, 10 years old, congratulating her on her upcoming wedding. Time and distance may be intimidating, but ultimately prove no match for those people that are firmly planted in your life, and in your heart.  Except now I really have to get on Skype more than once every three months. And stop being so afraid of the telephone. Although there’s something quite lovely about a handwritten letter every now and again. :)

Have you ever had to say goodbye to a friend? Do they know how much impact they’ve had on your life? It’s important I think, every now and again, to tell people how much they mean. Farewell Shelby and Ted, but only for now. :)

Of Pirates, Poetry and Prayers

21 Wednesday Jul 2010

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I’m not going to lie, this week and last have been lots of things, but the victory prize goes to exhaustion! Not in a bad way – work has been packed with learning, meeting new people, and creating copious amounts of curriculum leaving little time for anything else. Except that what little time has been leftover, I’ve been filling to the brim with STUFF.  Theatre (the city’s enormous Fringe festival is in town. Read: 155 plays; sleep is on the backburner!); friends from far away staying with us for 2 weeks; weddings, new experiences, and family stuff. It’s left me running on adrenaline, excitement, nerves and of course, way too much coffee, so I think I may be taking a bit of a break from blogging until later next week when I have time to gather my thoughts.  So much stuff has been going on that today’s post is a tad disjointed, so please forgive me!

The Winnipeg Fringe is seriously my absolute favourite time of year. Huge theatre companies, solo shows, musicians, contortionists, comedians… you name it, if it can go on stage and entertain people, it will happen in Winnipeg in July.  Each year’s Fringe also has a theme – we’ve had the frightfest “Night of the Living Fringe”, James Bond, Vegas, a Fringe “Factory”, Cowboys, and this year – everything Science Fiction (I KNOW!).  The Exchange District is a BEAUTIFUL part of town, full of old buildings, ornate architecture, and little boutiques full of vintage clothing and music. But it’s also sadly one of the dodgier areas for most of the year, bridging downtown and the North End (think crime and poverty), and, for the most part, deserted.  Streets are empty and a slight feeling of danger lurks in the air (maybe because I’m a bit of a girl when I walk alone at night!). But in July, everything changes. Hundreds of artists take over the city; dance halls, upstairs book shops, pubs and even the streets become performance spaces, home to a thriving community of arts lovers. Colour and creativity radiate from every corner, and every conceivable surface is turned into prime advertising space for shows ranging from the hilarious to the moving, the haunting to the incredible, the brilliant to the downright bizarre. This week, I’ve seen a one man riot, a brilliant true story of one man’s joke gone wrong that shot him to international stardom, two actors playing one man as they deliver spitfire comedy in Freud vs. His Ego, Cirque du Soleil-esque 19th century pirates, a stunning romantic tale told through tin can radio, described as  “part fairytale, part vaudeville routine, part old-fashioned love story… the theatre show The Decemberists would create if Roald Dahl directed them.” This weekend we have one of the funniest men I’ve ever seen on top of a parody of everything Europop - it’s my favourite two weeks of the year, and this year I’m thrilled a good friend of mine (who visits every year doing shows) happens to be staying with us. All this culture is fantastic, but I’d be lying if I said my sleep pattern hasn’t been affected :)

In less than two weeks, I will be heading home to England with Sweet, for his first time to Europe. We’re chiefly going to visit family and friends that won’t be able to make it over for the wedding (it’s a long way, a lot of money, and December in Winnipeg pretty much qualifies for Arctic conditions) – so they get to meet him, and so he gets to see home! I have mixed feelings about the trip – I’m so excited to go home, see friends, see sights and castles and stock up on Angel Delight – but I’m also nervous. I had word earlier in the week that my Nan, who most of you know was in hospital from late 2009 – early summer, doesn’t remember being in there at all, neither does she remember my Dad’s visit from earlier this year. One of my biggest fears is a loved one losing memories of our time together, and worse, forgetting people – my Dad says she remembers we’re coming to visit, but I’m terrified one day she won’t remember me.  It breaks my heart to even think about, and this trip is going to be one of mixed emotions.  If you could spare a thought or prayer for her, I’d really appreciate it.

These past few weeks have also brought about big changes in terms of socialising. I’ve always been a big advocate for putting things out into the Universe, and an even stronger believer that the Universe is pretty amazing when it comes to delivering.  I don’t want to alienate anyone by talking about something that’s very personal to each and every individual, but let’s just say I’ve been very blessed on a number of occasions  over the last few months in which I’ve prayed… and my requests have been fulfilled. I believe more and more that there is a path that’s set for each of us, and sometimes we don’t understand why things happen… but there are certain things that are meant to be, certain people we were meant to meet and share experiences with, and certain people who we’re better off without. Recently I’ve experienced both.

Finding meaningful friendships and people who were genuine, who’d be around for the long haul, was something I’d wished for back in the Spring, and since then, people have arrived in my life who have welcomed me with open arms, talked and shared and listened like good friends, and have just felt 100% natural, fun and comfortable to be around.  I am so lucky to have crossed paths recently with so many awesome people.  On the other hand, people who had been around for previous chapters in my life, who, though still present, brought with them unnecessary disputes, stress, and a feeling of uncertainty, have recently had those doors closed. When we’re younger, I think we place such importance on popularity, sometimes at the expense of sincerity – we’re more content with lots of people who may turn their backs at the drop of a hat than we are with a small handful of amazing souls who’ll stand by through anything. I have a feeling I’m experiencing the tides turning, and I’m beyond excited to be able to start a brand new chapter.

Work! My first month is almost at an end, and it’s been full of training and learning and opportunities to create new and better ways to serve people, to empower them, and to contribute to the community. That’s not to say there haven’t been a few fits of tears worrying about not being good enough, or learning quickly enough, but I have to remember we’re all in the same boat, and we all have the same goal: to work to make people’s lives better. I’m so incredibly fortunate to have been given this opportunity, and though quite possibly the biggest challenge yet, I’m ready for launch come August. I can’t wait to see everything that happens over the course of the next year.

And lastly, there’s less than a week to go until the Weddingbells contest ENDS!! I have been in this competition for eleven months and words cannot come close to doing justice to how much I’ve appreciated everyone who’s stuck by me throughout this journey. Six days left, and trust me, after being in the semi finals I know how quickly a big lead can turn into a close call – I have so much love and appreciation for all your votes so far, and if you could keep spreading the word over the next few days, I promise I’ll never ask you to do anything again! :)   You have been absolute STARS!!

I’m off to spend the week soaking up the arts – see you all next week. Have a great one :)

Making a Dent

19 Monday Jul 2010

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Before I properly get into today’s post, I just want to say a huge thank you to those who reached out and offered words of understanding and encouragement on my last post. I want to write back to each and every one of you because none of you had to say anything, but like good friends, you did, and I have to say how much it meant to me. I’ve been a little absent around the blogosphere this past week because of the biggest arts festival ever happening right now  (post to come!), and friends in from out of town who I get to see once per year… but I will definitely be visiting/writing/commenting back to each of you very shortly. Just had to say how thankful I felt last week to be part of such a caring community. <3

Now, onto a new week! Close to six months ago, I had the honour of writing something for ItStartsWith.Us. I wrote about the definition of the word “success” and how we choose to measure it in our own lives in ways other than monetarily.  If you’re not familiar with the project, ItStartsWith.Us is a group of people across the globe headed by the wonderful Nate St. Pierre, who band together and make it a focus to have a positive impact in the lives of those around them. “Each and every one of us has the ability to change the world by touching lives in this way. And when we hear stories about the positive things others are doing, we become more aware of the opportunities we have to make a difference for the people around us.“  The team get an email each week with a small, 10 or 15 minute “mission” – things like buying coffee for the stranger in front of you, writing a letter, baking cookies for your neighbours, or telling someone how much they mean to you. Little things that, when you think of them happening all over the globe, add up to make this world a little bit better. “Being a part of the team is always free, and there’s no pressure to do the weekly missions. Do them if you want, skip them if you want. I like to think of them as a gentle reminder to keep our eyes open to the good we can do as we walk through this life.”  It’s a project like this that makes me proud to be involved.

Think about what would happen if our mission for the week was to write a brief letter of encouragement to a terminally ill child. We pick the biggest special-needs hospital in the country . . . and every child in that hospital gets 50 letters. What will every postal worker say when they deliver 20,000 letters to that hospital in a single week? What will all the staff members say when they see the effect on all the kids? What will all the family members say when they’ve been touched with such a demonstration of love from strangers? None of these people will ever forget what happened to them that week, and they will tell the story to others for the rest of their lives. And what did it cost you? 15 minutes and the price of a stamp.

There’s also the Love Bomb project – a division of ISWU -a group that comes together every week to drop hundreds of “love bombs” (in the form of a simple comment left on a blog) on those who need it most. This has only been going a few months, but so far, we’ve dropped love bombs on new parents whose newborn babies have passed away; young girls whose everyday life is a battle against depression, the inner critic relentlessly professing her worthlessness; someone living with MS in enormous fear of its worsening; and, recently,a beautiful young artist recently diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a degenerative and incurable eye disease that will eventually cause her to lose her vision altogether.  We know it’s near impossible to take away the pain and distress of situations like this – but when someone suffering sees an outpouring of hundreds of comments from around the world, telling them someone cares, it really makes a difference.  Signing up and taking part only takes five minutes per week, and I’d love if some of you hopped on board with this. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about how I needed to prioritise my time and make sure I was spending it on things that mattered – and let’s face it, how much time do we spend online surfing Facebook, reading posts, updating statuses…? We’re bloggers. We live online. We can all take five minutes out of our week to make a difference in the life of someone less fortunate than us.

I’ve been part of the blogging community for a little while now, and I feel blessed to belong to a group of such kind, generous, compassionate and determined souls. I’ve seen people band together in the past for a good cause, and it’s been nothing short of astonishing.  The support this community shows for each other is remarkable – through the good, through the bad, and through the downright competitive!! If ItStartsWith.Us and the Love Bomb Project aren’t already on your radar, and I know many of you are already on board, please take a second and think about how little effort it can take to contribute toward making a huge difference in someone’s life.

Find out more about the projects here and here.

The Broken Mirror

14 Wednesday Jul 2010

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Note: I actually wrote this two and a half weeks ago in a fit of tears and I’ve been contemplating whether or not to post it since then. I tossed around the idea of password protecting it for a while and decided on just putting it out there. Hiding it went against what I strive for: sincerity.  And though I realise posts after the excitement of the wedding competition should probably all keep riding  the wave of the upbeat (and don’t worry, I’m okay, and said upbeat WILL return pronto), as I’ve mentioned in blog posts prior, I’m not one to pretend everything is sunshine and unicorns when behind the screen, it’s not.  I may be shooting myself in the foot and alienating readers with this, but I’m hoping, contrary to what I’ve sometimes seen around the blogosphere, people might be drawn to the genuine rather than stories about cupcakes and puppies.  But if this does push people away, I apologise in advance. I just have a really hard time sugar coating things when being real is so important to me.

This brings me to the issue at hand. Remember the List? Of course you do; I’ve been writing about my endeavours to tackle it since before it went public. I was talking about it earlier this week with someone, and I started worrying about the items that were going to be rather more difficult to achieve than others. Anyone can start exercising, or make smoothies, or floss. Anyone can make new friendships, or do karaoke, or learn to speak publicly with enough dedication and hard work.  But what happens when something on your list seems to defy the way you’ve lived your entire life? I panicked a little when I revisited Number 12: Stop Hating How I Look.

How can you change the way you feel about something when the reality of it stares you in the face on a daily basis? What if I suddenly wanted to like, I don’t know, rap music, or root beer – things I’ve experienced, disliked, and subsequently formed an opinion on.  I wouldn’t magically be able to start appreciating them when I already know I’m not a fan. I feel like it’s the same with how I look, as painfully awkard and superficial as this sounds. Every day I look in the mirror, or at pictures, and I think how repulsive I am. I want to Photoshop my nose because it’s hideously huge and I don’t understand how the rest of the world doesn’t see what I see.  Every time I sit across from someone I worry if they’re secretly looking at my face and seeing what I see when I look in the mirror. Ugly. I was trying to explain myself to this person and found myself breaking down in tears at the thought of getting my wedding photos back - being completely natural and happy on the day, only to get the photographs back  in a few weeks and be appalled at how awful I looked.  In all honesty I’m dreading being the centre of attention and the subject of every photograph because I feel like every snapshot is another piece of evidence in the case that proves how unattractive I am.

This person asked me if outward appearance was important to me. If, in my list of goals for how I want to live my life, physical beauty or lack thereof was ever part of my equation.  Every fibre of my soul wants to say no – because I know I would never judge someone based on how they look.  But the reality is that a large part of the rest of the world does.  There are countless studies on the human face in relation to partnerships, career opportunities, satisfaction with life – and every study proves that those who are considered to be more attractive do better at work, have higher salaries, larger groups of friends, and more satisfaction with their lives and relationships than those who feel, or are considered to be, unattractive.  I know with everything I am that outer appearance doesn’t matter in the slightest, but I also know the way in which the world works.  I genuinely feel uncomfortable in front of people, not just because I’m afraid of public speaking – and that’s something for which I’m able to take steps to tackle – but because I fear everyone in front of me is thinking the same thing about me I do.  I can’t help but feel if I had plastic surgery, and looked how I want to look, that worry and self consciousness would disappear and I would be free to enjoy life, to be in front of people without fear and just do a better job, to be less afraid of getting out there into the world and making a difference, achieving my potential.  How I feel about how I look is holding me back. But unlike social anxiety, it’s not something over which I have any control.

Anyone who’s been reading me for more than a couple of weeks will know I’m a huge advocator for taking control of your life. If you don’t like your circumstances, have the strength to dive in there and actively shape them into what you want them to be.  I let fear and negative self talk rule my life for far too long – you all know that, and you know I’ve been jumping at everything I used to be scared of in the hope of becoming stronger for trying.  I want to be comfortable in front of crowds? Jump right in and start practising instead of hiding on the sidelines. But the goal of being able to not see myself the way I have for so long – I don’t know where to even begin. I don’t know how to change a thought pattern – which sounds so hypocritical, considering I’m the biggest advocate for changing your thoughts in order to change your life. This person told me she doesn’t want me doing something drastic like surgery because she’s “seen me take the hard path before, and this seems like the easy road.”  She wrote me a message earlier in the week:

You have transformed your life in ways I could never imagine, overcome huge struggles and you’re a better person because of it. I’m so proud of you. This is why I’m challenging you to once again take the difficult road of self-loving that I’ve seen you undertake time and again these past few years. I guess the reason I don’t see the need for you to resort to an extreme tactic to fix this ‘problem’ is that I’ve already seen you overcome so much that I don’t see how you can’t overcome this as well! Think about everything you’ve overcome… and I know it seems hard, maybe impossible, to see yourself liking the way you look, but just think, a couple of years ago would you ever have talked openly about your fears, would you have gone outside without makeup on, or seen yourself speaking in front of classes of people week after week, being on the radio, befriending STRANGERS… you probably never would’ve seen yourself loving those either! Don’t you see? Everything you’re feeling and saying now is just a repeat of what you’ve already overcome! With the same hard work and dedication you’ve already put into your life, you can overcome this as well. That’s why I don’t see the need to resort to such drastic measures, because I’ve seen you conquer challenges before and it’s made you stronger. I know you can get through this as well.

I hear the words and I know they’re true. I know with hard work and determination anything is possible. But I’m stuck right now, in a place where I feel there’s no way of seeing things any other way. I know I’ve said the same thing before about old habits, old thought patterns… but this time, I don’t see anywhere to ‘jump in’. I feel hypocritical encouraging others to change their thoughts and habits, to step outside what’s comfortable and grow and come out stronger on the other side. Putting time and thought into something so negative defies how I strive to live my life, and I feel almost ashamed to be writing about something so superficial. I want to smack myself when I think of the good I could be doing with my energy, when I think of how lucky I am to live the life I do… but I can’t seem to shake it. Is this just another on the list of insecurities I’ve had for so long, another challenge that can be overcome? It’s not body dysmorphia – isn’t that just when people feel they’re overweight and lean toward anorexic type behaviours… I don’t have any problems with my weight. That’s a lie (see? I can’t sugarcoat things). I do. I’m 104 lbs right now and I still feel like a whale after I eat a big meal. But I don’t skip meals or throw up or anything. I’m just naturally small framed and consequently the slightest bulge stands out a mile.  To me – and so, in my head, to everyone else as well. I just want to be able to overcome it – all of it, not to be seen as attractive by other people, but to feel confident in myself so I’m not held back so much, so I don’t shy away from people so much, scared of what they might be thinking.  I want to be able to be comfortable and confident. I want to be able to contribute to the world and this seems to be the one destination to which I can’t see a clear path.

I’m sorry for the uncharacteristic downer. I’m so sorry to write about something so superficial but I’m not going to pretend these thoughts aren’t in my head. This is me, this is my life and my thoughts, ramblings, ups and downs, the lot. I appreciate if you’ve made it this far. I just needed to be honest with how I was feeling and get it down, and if people stop reading, or judge me… well, those who are only around for the good times aren’t worth worrying about anyway. I’m not looking for comments on this post… I just had to get it out. But if you could go vote for me over at Weddingbells today… I’d really appreciate it. You guys are wonderful. And I’ll be back to normal next post, I promise.

The Scholarly Years

12 Monday Jul 2010

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You know how your train of thought is the fastest mode of transportation there is, with stops throughout time, space, geography and chronology all packed into a rollercoaster 5-second trip? Except then, when you want to chronicle your journey, your reader is left wondering what the heck is wrong with you? Well, let’s just say I had one of those. Involving stops at lists of goals and realisations and memories and flashbacks to university and lightbulb moments which result in blog posts. Ahem. For whatever reason the search index inside my brain landed on this here topic, today I’m writing about something I’m surprised hasn’t come up before: the past!

<Is nudged by the Interwebs>

The past… in terms of my education.  I love finding out what other bloggers do for a living, and I’m sure many of you know what I do for a living (in which case please send the answer in a stamped addressed envelope to… let’s just say I am still title-less in my new position, but continually gratefully employed :) ) – but I have no idea about how any of you got there. So allow me to start the ball rolling.

I’ve always loved learning. I’ve always known I had a passion for the arts, literature and history – though I was raised on science fiction (and remain a lifelong devotee), I was absolute rubbish at actual science, and you could throw maths in there as well. I scraped by with a 70-something percent in chemistry, physics and calculus, but my mind and my heart were on fire when it came to the other side of the coin. I thrived on big art projects (including one seven foot tall sculpture made of wire, plaster, and lots of blue paint), historical accounts of battles and legends over a thousand years old, memorising Shakespeare and genuinely laughing at the jokes in Chaucer. Anything to do with numbers or formulas may as well have been Greek (sorry Ted), but give me a page of Middle English and I’ll be able to recite it back verbatim ten years later, the words forever ingrained in memory. But none of this mattered when it came to Going to University – at eighteen, I had no idea what course of study to pursue, or what job I wanted to end up with – so I threw myself into everything I loved in the hopes of some sort of epiphany.  My post-secondary education included two years of Psychology, Medieval History, Medieval Heroes and Villains, Medieval Literature (do we sense a theme?), Literature from 1500 to 1900, the History of Art, Theatre, and, of course, Astronomy. Possibly one of the geekiest combinations of study ever? But I LOVED EVERY MINUTE. None of it was going to get me a job, mind you, but it satiated a thirst for knowledge of the minds of the past, the creativity behind the stage, the symbolism of literature, the stories of centuries gone by, and… the closest I’ll ever get to the Delta Quadrant.

Actually looking at it all written down here, the answer wasn’t to find a field of employment… it was CLEARLY to get me a time machine… but life happened, and I ended up diploma-less and stuck in my own corner of the galaxy.  I never graduated university, and it pains me to this day to say it, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t get a heck of a lot of life experience in return. Amazing? At times. Hell? Also, at times. Invaluable? You better believe it. I’ve filled those years with as much learning as I could do, on my own, reading textbooks and tutorials and finding a job in which I found I had a bit of a flair for graphics for a few years. I always kicked myself because I never had the formal education to prove I could do it, but it led me to designing projects which seemed to naturally evolve into including other areas… writing… photography… a short stint in modelling… even voiceover work; things I never would’ve touched had I not been on this path. Great opportunities that arose which would otherwise have passed me by. I’m still fascinated by everything I threw myself into in school; a copy of Psychology Today falls into my letterbox each month, starships sit atop bookshelves, and framed prints of medieval manuscripts and Modigliani prints grace my walls.

I may not have the certificate. But my two year spell in post-secondary education has furthered my passion for learning – and everything that came after it I consider a path I was meant to be on. Now it’s your turn… how were your educational years spent? Did they have anything to do with where you are now? And did you vote for me today? (Speaking of which, you have been AMAZING so far!!) The button’s nice and shiny… :)

Pandemic

08 Thursday Jul 2010

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I started my new job this week, and things are definitely shaping up to be a whole new change of pace!  I am still title-less, but the month of July is going to be filled with training, curriculum development, out of office visits and tonnes of learning.  (AND VOTING. PLEASE. DID YOU DO IT YET? :) ) It’s massively different than what I’m used to, and I must admit first day I was so overwhelmed and anxious about all the new responsibility I made myself physically sick and subsequently missed the next two days (I’m a winner, I know), but the nerves I think are finally subsiding a little.  I’m thrilled to be part of a brand new project which is going to put me in a position that will not only push my boundaries (I’m going to be facilitating about 6 different modules – huge for the whole public speaking thing) but also put me in a position where I can really help people. One of the first things we were told was that the focus of this project was going to be not only helping the community, but empowering people – giving them tools and opportunities that will help them change their lives for the better. And that make me really proud. Along with teaching, I’m going to be doing some admin, some promotion and marketing, and toward the botttom end of the list – health and safety. Now, I may be a strange candidate for holding any portion of responsibility regarding other people’s safety or health (I think I made my stance on the government’s encouragement of mass vaccination quite clear during the H1N1 outbreak) – but thinking back to that got me thinking about the idea of what constitutes the idea of a pandemic – something which, when it comes down to it, causes widespread action in regards to something contagious.

When you hear the word, you automatically think of outbreaks of scary things like SARS, H1N1, Bird Flu… even the Bubonic Plague, and the masses subsequently running on something not too far from hysteria, having bought into the combination of newsreaders telling scary stories, but more accurately, fear. Fear is as contagious, if not more so, than whatever outbreak happens to be circling the newspapers.  Did I know anyone in my city affected by any of these so-called pandemics? No, I knew a bunch of people who, upon the encouragement of lunchroom gossip and television sets, rushed to the nearest doctor’s office to have something injected into their bloodstream, or started wearing surgical face masks in the street. The fear of contamination was more contagious than the sickness itself.  The word “pandemic” is defined as prevalent throughout an entire country, continent, or the whole world; widespread over a large area; general; universal. So why are we conditioned to evoke a negative connotation in response to hearing it? If something like fear can become pandemic – why can’t something more positive take over the masses?

In short, it can. Think about fashion trends – throughout the ages people have seen someone famous do something different, and rushed out in efforts to imitate their style or attitude. This may not always be for the best (Crocs anyone?), but it’s a mass movement to copy something based on personal admiration.  Health movements have also swept nations (just look at Atkins and Green Monsters), and people across the globe have dropped their current habits and adopted new ones in the hope of bettering themselves.  Spiritual teachings on how to become a better person have been written in books and shot to the top of the national bestseller list, sparking a movement of positivity across book clubs, across friendships, and across the globe. An idea to make the world a better place can pop up in a single man’s head, and before you know it, it’s become an international project with people across the globe hopping on board, all hit by the contagiousness of spreading joy onto the lives of others. Movies like Julie and Julia can inspire nations to learn how to cook; shows like Glee can inspire thousands to sing.

And then there’s blogging. Since I started blogging properly, not even a year ago, I’ve been inspired by people around the world who’ve set goals for themselves, pushed their boundaries, and written about their endeavours to become stronger, healthier, better people. I’ve lost count of how many 101 in 1001s I’ve seen around the blogosphere and have been inspired by other people’s 30s before 30 to create my own list of goals, which inspires me to grow every single day. You could say it’s contagious – hundreds of people reading hundreds of posts about growth and empowerment causing a “pandemic” of positivity. I love it. How great would it be if next time we witnessed something bad spreading – fear, gossip, rumours or hatred – we chose to instead spread something else? Combat the contagiousness of negativity and be the turning point to instead disperse something better. No dictionary tells us pandemics need to be bad. It’s often easier to go along with the masses.  The phenomenon of mass hysteria proves that the strength found in numbers can allow people to do things that would be considered insane if they did them solitarily. But we’re all capable of rising above what’s popular. We just have to practice prioritising, and thinking for ourselves.

Oh, Canada…

02 Friday Jul 2010

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Yesterday was Canada day.

[Church bells chime in the distance. Insert tumbleweed.] No, I’m kidding. :)

I’ve lived in this country for ten years this year, and though I may have the occasional moan about disliking Winnipeg, Canada Day always kicks my arse into gear with fireworks, flags, performances and MORE cake, since it also happens to fall on Sweet’s birthday.  You all know I’m pretty patriotic when it comes to England. I post videos all over the place, burst into tears of pride at Britain’s Got Talent, have BBC radio accompanying me a good 12 hours out of every day, and am on an ongoing mission to convert all my friends to Dr. Who loving Anglophiles. I’m probably going to be rocking Union Jack socks at my own wedding. National pride is something I think the Brits do really well – they still flock together to support things their nation does brilliantly. And not so brilliantly, if you count their last World Cup game.  It really makes me proud! But this week, on Canada Day? I wanted to take a second to forget all the things I dislike about where I live, join in with the rest of the nation and really appreciate the great things about this country to make it a day worth celebrating.

I love Canada for the education it’s given me, both scholarly and socially. I arrived fresh from a school of tucked in shirts and scoldings for more than one pair of earrings, where everyone was part of a sea of conformity. I was blown away on my first day in a real high school, where there were people of every clique or style imaginable. Sure, I spent my lunch hours in the physics room with the other IB nerds making science jokes and eating pizza with a knife and fork. But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t introduced to an enormous variety of people. I got to geek out in a program designed for kids who loved learning. I got to take classes with people who did improv and wore blue Mohawks and let me join their punk band. I got to experience a culture so drastically different from everything I’d grown up with, and I loved it.

Nobody hates Canada. I’m living in the friendliest country in the world! In France, the natives will turn their noses up at you. In America, they’ll tell you to go back home and throw things at your baseball supporting, Canadian flag-bearing classmates. (Yes, I can vouch for this first-hand.) In England, you’ll walk cobblestone streets – covered in gob, pigeon poo and old chewing gum. But in Canada? Even the homeless tell you to have a nice day!

Living here, I get to experience a real white Christmas. Nothing can top spending Christmas eve huddled up inside with a warm mug of Baileys and hot chocolate, or popping out to grab some milk in deserted, twilit streets, freshly covered with the softest, sparkliest, most ABUNDANT snow I’ve ever seen. Sure, it sucks that we spend 8 months a year below zero. But there’s something magical about December in Canada, when the world almost transforms into the forests of Narnia.

It’s cheap to live here. Like, beyond ridiculously cheap. Allow me to demonstrate my living expenses for all my international readers. I live in a two-storey, pretty new house with hardwood floors, two big bedrooms, ten minutes away from downtown on a beautiful little street facing the river, with the downtown skyline in the distance. There’s no crime in my area, it’s close to everything, and the view is gorgeous. There’s a riverside path leading anywhere you want to go, and you can walk for miles under canopies of trees. Sure, there’s about a bazillion mosquitoes. But that’s small peanuts. (Ask me this again in a month.) My rent? $950 per month. Split between two. That’s $910 US. Six hundred quid. People are astonished when they hear how cheap it is to live here.  Every time I want to move back home, I stop in my tracks and remind myself I’d have to work three jobs just to be able to afford a tiny little flat.

Summers here are beautiful. The skies are forever blue, the streets filled with festivals celebrating the arts, theatre, music, diversity and culture.  I’m so excited there’s still another two months of it. And maybe best of all? It’s DRY. (No frizz!)  But most importantly, Canada has brought me everything that’s shaped the last ten years of my life. It’s brought me culture. It’s where I learned I had a passion for design, for learning, and for writing. It has made me realise how much I love England, which, maybe I’d never have appreciated had I remained there. It’s dragged me through hellish situations which have given rise to a huge desire to grow. It’s where I shaped my friendships, grew closer with family, and learned of the kind of person I want to be. It brought me pain and passion, highs and lows, longings and gratitude, all the while giving me a landscape of natural beauty and extreme seasons. This country does battle together. Anyone who lives in Arctic conditions for two thirds of their lives are pretty tough cookies. But they’re also the friendliest, nicest people I’ve ever met.

Lastly – Arcade Fire anyone? Most of you know I’m passionate about great music, and though I am guilty of favouring British bands, Canada has produced one of the most amazing bands in a very long time. This is the band that was formed by a husband and wife team, went on to add tonnes more members, along with harps, accordions and string sections, and became nominated for 5 Brit Awards, 3 Grammys and 6 Junos, and more. They recorded their stunning second album in a defunct church, including the haunting Intervention, full of church organs, choirs, and lyrics that continue to wrench at the heartstrings half a decade on.Way to go Canada, for producing something this brilliant.

I may have been waving my England flag strong and proud during this World Cup, but this Canada Day? Here’s to you, Canada, for everything you’ve taught me, shown me, and been to me. I know I’ll whinge when the mosquitoes hit hard, and I know I’ll whinge harder when I’m stuck at a bus shack next February picking icicles off my eyelashes. But today, I’ll celebrate with the rest of the nation, for all the great things this country really is.  It’s important to count our blessings every once in a while, after all, right?  Happy birthday Canada – and happy birthday Sweet!

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