Time Capsule: A Decade in Review

It’s the end of the first decade of a new millennium.  At the end of the year, bloggers usually write some sort of reflection on the year that was.  But I feel like I’ve kind of been doing that continually all year long, so instead of rehashing 2009, I couldn’t think of a better way to end the year (and indeed, the decade) by reflecting on my world of the last decade.  I’ll try and be brief – but here’s my take on the noughties.

2000: This was a big year for me.  Looking back at old picture-stuffed, handwritten diaries, I see my departure from the country I call home.  I see paperbound notebooks, scrawled with messages between friends wishing me luck with boys, with Canada, and with an entirely new life.  I see wonky teeth gone forever and braces finally removed.  I see nervousness, and excitement as I left my life behind and started fresh on an entirely new continent, initial feelings of anxiety quickly surpassed by those of enthusiasm, as I was thrown into high school, and everybody wanted to know the new kid in town.  It seems a million years ago, but we were all still using Napster, Britney Spears was the freshest thing since sliced bread, and Madonna was getting ready to take over the world all over again.

2001: My first proper year in high school.  I started a rigorous advanced program and made two friends I stuck around with for the rest of my high school years, one of which I’m still good friends with today.  I discovered my love of literature and the English language, and decided I wanted to be a teacher.  My first long-term relationship began, with a dark haired Rodrigo Santoro look-alike recently landed from the Ukraine.  Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman were still together, the world was taken by a storm of fantasy as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings hit the screens, and elsewhere in the world, three thousand people lost their lives as planes crashed into the twin towers. The world was in mourning.

2002: I discovered I could sing, met some guys in a punk band and got up in front of the school and sang Offspring and No Use for a Name covers. I had my first proper breakup after a year and a half, and started learning about my relationship behaviour, an unfortunate pattern I’d soon become very hurt by, and wouldn’t truly realise for another six years.  I got my first job as a “Language Services Facilitator”, very scared of the working world and grown-up responsibility, but very grateful to not be working at McDonald’s or Wal-Mart like most of my fellow classmates.  The music world mourned the deaths of TLC’s Lisa Lopes, The Who’s John Entwistle, and the legendary Joe Strummer.  My new city of Winnipeg is put on the map as My Big Fat Greek Wedding becomes the most successful independent film ever.

2003: I finished high school and headed to university with every intention of becoming an English teacher.  I took English literature, medieval history, psychology and the history of art, and it was through friends I met here that I met Sweet for the first time. We dated for a month (before he unceremoniously dumped me right before Christmas!), and I also first met my best friend. Myspace and Facebook were launched, and changed the face of communication forever.

2004: At nineteen years old, I decided I was ready to move out.  I left home against all common sense, moved in with my then-boyfriend, an internationally travelling showman, juggler and contortionist, and realised how rubbish I was at being left behind.  I worked part time at the post office, and went to university part time, ultimately dropping out due to lack of money, lack of time, and our eventual breakup.  This year, I worked as a postal clerk!  X Factor mania began its reign of television supremacy, and a tsunami took the lives of hundreds of thousands.  This was the year I discovered the magic of the Winnipeg Fringe Festival , found my love of theatre, and have been back religiously every summer since.

2005: The BBC relaunched Doctor Who, my favourite and, according to the Guinness Book of Records, “longest-running science fiction television show in the world, and as the most successful science fiction series of all time.”  I was hooked for life.  I temporarily moved back into my parents’ house, living out of boxes on a sofa in the basement for a few weeks until I found my first apartment, into which I moved with my very first flatmate.  I discovered the horrors of joint cohabitation, but couldn’t afford to live alone, and so began my string of exasperating roomies.  2005 was also the year I got fired for the first and only time in my life, and I decided to go off to another province to work in a holiday resort for the entire summer.  I soon realised what a relentless homebody I was, and came back after about three weeks.  I took the first job I could find, and began my brief stint in the world of retail.  Elsewhere in the world, the first video is uploaded to YouTube, and within six months, the site was hitting 100 million views per day.

2006: I quit working in retail, and got my  soul back! I landed a job as a graphic designer (and soon after, office manager) at a print shop and though I stopped feeling bad about never finishing my English degree, I still longed to be learning again.  I pursued graphic design, learning on my own and getting better and better, and stayed there for three years.    This was the year I got my beautiful little cat, too, but it was also the year my parents split up.  An extremely close relationship with my dad began, but my relationship with my mother went in the opposite direction.  In 2006 I really got into British music in a big way, and discovered my love of bands like Muse, Kasabian, Keane and the Arctic Monkeys.  Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy takes the world by storm and becomes quite possibly the biggest song of the decade.  Twitter is launched – and it takes another three years before I eventually hop on the bandwagon.

2007: was the beginning of the worst year ever.  I (stupidly) got engaged to someone who started off great, but ultimately wound up lying, stealing money, doing drugs, and becoming abusive.  I lost a lot of my self-confidence  and started questioning the person I was.  I learned a lot of valuable lessons, and I wish I could go back to my 2007 self and give her a slap in the face and tell her to stop being so naive.  But 2007 had lots of good moments too – I visited England, France,  went to the best concert of my life and saw my favourite band of all time.  I had my tonsils out over Christmas of this year – THE most painful experience of my life, and found myself alone, in pain, and completely detached from the real world.  Luckily I reconnected with Kyla, resurrecting a wonderful friendship after years of absence.

2008: I had my first year of really being single and living without a flatmate.  I learned that I didn’t have to take every offer that came my way and just say no and be by myself for a while, and let my heart heal.  I went out dancing every week and threw myself into the indie music scene, staying up until 2:00 on weeknights.  In late spring, Sweet came back into my life after about 5 years not being in it, shortly before another trip back to the UK.  I visited old friends, fell in love with Ireland, and discovered I missed Sweet more than anything, and came back into his arms, where we officially decided to give it another go.  My best friend got married in a beautifully intimate ceremony, and I experienced my first moments of real, true love.  I had to give up my second cat, Chloe, and wept for days.  Heath Ledger passed away and the world was in shock.  I was encouraged to leave my comfy job at the print shop and go for something more, so I took a chance, quit, and spent the end of the year in California.

And now I’m wrapping up the decade with what’s been, so far, the best year of my life.  I started with a goal of escaping the shell of a person I was, taking risks and ending up exactly where I want to be.  I moved in to my first house, had an amazing year with good friends, growing closer with my dad, got a job I absolutely love, got engaged, developed my faith, and met my all-time favourite author in the flesh, a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life.  I enjoyed a bunch of amazing music, programmes and movies.  I’m in the final of a national blogging contest and I’ve just started writing for an online music magazine – I’m doing what I love, and being given more and more opportunities to do it.  2009 has been an incredible, life-changing year, and I’m starting the new decade with a spirit of excitement, determination, and gratitude.  Next year already holds a lot of anticipation.  My first trip to the Caribbean, to the biggest city in Canada, to England and to wrap it all up in December, our winter wedding.  I can’t even imagine what I’ll be writing over the next ten years, but I know I can’t wait to share it all with you. 🙂

Happy New Year!!

Post-Christmas Wrap Up

So this is Christmas… and what have we done? Another year over, and a new one just begun…

Well lovelies, another one has come and gone, and, without fail, Christmas 2009 was nothing short of a tumultuous rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, laughter and tears, and realisation that the people you spend Christmas with says a lot about how you really define “family”.  I spent mine in the wonderful company of my dad and stepmum, sharing dinner and playing games with Sweet’s family, braving a blizzard, watching old 80s Christmas movies,  and talking to friends through fits of sobbing who left me feeling incredibly grateful, and got me back on track to being able to really enjoy Christmas after all.

I finally spoke to my nan, who’s still in the hospital, but in good spirits and absolutely thrilled to have had visitors on Christmas Day. Two girls I’d grown up with in England who lived across the street from us were in town for Christmas, and braved the icy roads on Christmas afternoon to visit my poor old nan in hospital.  This Monday, they’re taking her up some clothes and sorting out the house, and it just meant the world to both me and my dad to have two people who weren’t even family give up part of their Christmas to help somebody in need, when our own relatives wouldn’t even lift a finger.  It was unexpected, altruistic and demonstrated the holiday spirit more than I could ever say.

I received a bizzare card from my mother, once again an endeavour to make me feel bad about myself, which I almost let get to me – but I refused to allow it to affect me any more.  I put it aside and went ahead with spending Christmas with the people who really showed their love and care, and who make me feel truly lucky to have in my life.  Sweet’s family blessed me with amazing and thoughtful gifts, good times and memories in the making.  My dad and I shared a meaninful conversation summing up all the bad Christmases we ever had and vowing that from now on, we were going to focus on what was really important in our lives, and enjoy the seasons to come with the people we love.

Sweet and I exchanged gifts (this boy got me the BEST gift ever – a Doctor Who t-shirt!!), snuggles, and words that made me feel that no matter what else is going on in the world, whatever else is going on in our lives and whatever the state of my family situation might be, what’s really important is the family you make for yourself .  This time next year, I’ll be officially “integrated”, with a mother, father and sisters-in-law I already love dearly.  I’ll be married to the person who’s taught me how to be thankful in times of adversity, believed in me, and pushed me to get to where I am today.  I’ll be ringing in the holiday season with my dad, counting our blessings to have each other, and I’ll still be spending it with girlfriends I love just like I would my own sister.

This year, I’ve learned that you don’t have to become the product of your past.  Just because you may have been made to feel by numerous people who were “supposed” to love you that you’re worthless in times gone by, doesn’t  mean you have to resign yourself to believing it.  You can choose to become the person you want to be, and if you’re lucky enough to have people believing in you, you can make your own reality independent of anything you’ve ever been told before.  Just as you can choose to spend not just the holidays, but birthdays, weekends and any other time you like with the family you choose for yourself.  Significant others, new families, blog friends who’ve done more from far away than some people next door, and friends who’d do anything for you – these are the people who truly count, at Christmas, and in life.   This year things may not have fit the traditional mold, but I’ve learned that that’s okay. I’m heading into the new year more sure of myself, more determined to do what I can to make this world a better place, and to continue to push myself, and most of all, more appreciative of the people I have in my life who’ve done so much for me.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and I want to say thank you to all of you for reading, encouraging, supporting, commenting, sending me things in the post… I feel blessed to have you in my life.  Happy holidays to everyone, and I genuinely wish you all the very best for the new year. 🙂

Blessings in a Bittersweet Christmas

In this week leading up to Christmas, there have been several thoroughly unfestive incidents affecting me personally, or indirectly through friends, family and other bloggers, which have left me desperately endeavouring to keep my holiday spirits high.  I’ve been shocked at how much death and illness has surrounded us at this time of year; lives of friends, relatives, and celebrities have all recently fallen into cessation, leaving behind heartbroken families at a time of year when goodwill and festivities are supposed to eclipse the worries of the rest of the year.

But it’s tough, when life insists mercilessly on throwing lemons, on a schedule inconsiderate of Christmas spirit.  I’ve been reading blogs of friends who are going through loss, grief, infertility and sadness, and all I want for anyone right now is to be able to enjoy the holiday season.  It’s just so hard to raise a shield and feign holiday joy in the face of adversity’s relentless persistence.

My heart goes out to anybody whose Christmas this year is tainted.  I’ve spent more than enough Christmases dealing with breakups, surgery and divorce, and everything at this time of year seems exacerbated by the inherent expectations of festivity and merriment.  I want you to know that if you’re going through something challenging this year, my thoughts and prayers go out to you by hundredfold.

In the last two weeks, the incident with my mother exploded as a result of her determination to maintain vendettas, as opposed to recognising someone in need and having an actual heart.  After years of disproportionate efforts, I’m finally done with her negativity.  She knows where to find me, should she suddenly grow a conscience, but until then I made it very clear I was done, and she was not going to be coming to my wedding.

My dad, who I love dearly, got laid off from his job.  A pretty high-end management position, two weeks before Christmas.  Luckily he has a few interviews this week, but in this economy and at this time of year (especially when you’re paying spousal support to someone who refuses to recognise the difficulty in actually paying when you don’t have a job…), I just hope and pray he gets something soon.

Because his mother, my dear Nan back in England, is in hospital.  She gets dizzy and has falls and lives by herself in a 2-storey house which poses more of a danger these days than a home.  Recently she had a fall, and fractured her arm and a rib, and is being kept in a hospital until at least the New Year.  The hospital is out of town, and the only relative who’d actually visit her doesn’t have a car, and hasn’t been able to take her up some clean clothes, or even visit.  My dad and I are totally helpless from halfway round the world, and it’s just so disheartening that we have other relatives over there who, for the sake of maintaining grudges, won’t go and visit.  And my dad can’t go over because he has interviews all week.

Last week I just broke down.  Things are supposed to be happy at Christmas.  And so I did everything I could to try and refocus my thoughts on how much I actually have.  I have wonderful friends who come round with hugs and cake and amazingly thoughtful gifts (we even got each other the same present!).  I have coworkers who send me emails, invite me to their holiday parties, and get together and pray for my Nan. I have you guys, who despite being miles away, read and write to me,  offer your support and even send me cards in the post. And I have my dad, who’s been there for me my whole life, and I’m trying to be able to do the same for him.

I put up decorations, hung the cards, downloaded a bunch of Christmas music and cranked it, singing at the top of my voice while I did laundry.  I made little snowflake cupcakes and bought stuff to make my first mince pies since I moved here ten years ago.  I dug out Love Actually and the Polar Express and my next two nights are full of plans of cat snuggles, movies and some Hot Butter Rum. (Seriously, make some – it’s the best Christmas drink ever, and it’s the only time of year you can drink it and not feel guilty about the calories!)

I’m really thankful for what I have, for my little cat, for my friends and family, and for all of you I’ve found this past year. I’m thankful for the opportunities I’ve had to personally grow, the wonderful conversations, and the chances I’ve had to give back.  If you’re going through something tough this Christmas, my heart honestly goes out to you.  I hope you can take a moment to count even the smallest of blessings; those of friendship, of the work you do, of the gifts you have.  And I sincerely hope and pray that 2010 brings good things for all of you.

Nothing says “Christmas” like Civil War…

Today marks the start of the last weekend before Christmas.  It brings shops filled with exhausted workers and frantic last-minute shoppers.  It brings TV specials, Advent services, holiday parties and, somewhere, in a little country elsewhere in a world filled with countdowns, festivities and frenzy, it brings a race to the annual Christmas Number One. 

Growing up in England, every weekend was an exciting time for music.  Friday nights were spent glued to the television for half an hour watching Top of the Pops, and Sunday afternoons to the radio, listening eagerly to the weekly Top 40.  I remember walking home from school, through the town centre, cutting through Woolworths just so I could check out the new singles chart, and often pick up a few on cassette tape with my £2 pocket money.  The music charts were a definitive part of Britain’s weekend, taking over the television, radio shows and shop displays, and in the leadup to Christmas, the chart battle for the number one spot took over the nation.

Bookies released the odds, bets were placed, and the nation held its breath during the week leading up to the Saturday before Christmas to see who’d hold the coveted number one position on Christmas Day.  Today, the UK finds out who their nation’s 2009 Christmas Number One will be.  But this year, it’s a little bit different.

This year, it’s become a full-out war.  Christmas charts of the last few years have undoubtedly been dominated by the winning single released from that year’s X Factor winner.  I have nothing against this – I love the X Factor, and this year have followed the journey of an absolutely lovely young lad who’s worked hard, won the heart of the nation, come from a humble background, and I’m excited to see him get the opportunity of a lifetime.  Previous years’ winners have gone on to break all-time records, or shoot to international superstardom, selling out faster than anyone in UK chart history, selling multi-platinum level albums and becoming three-time Grammy award nominees.  I love the show, and am thoroughly behind backing these kids who come from all walks of life, and giving them a shot at making it.  This year’s winner was incredible, brought tears to my eyes, a skip to my heart, and what’s happening to him this weekend makes me very upset.

The nation’s been split by a husband and wife team, who decided they were sick of X Factor taking the fun out of the race to the Christmas Number One, and set up a Facebook campaign to get an old Rage Against the Machine song to the top for 2009.   The band’s Killing In The Name track was chosen by the anti-X Factor campaigners because of its message of taking a stand against authority.  And the success has been staggering. The group’s membership has hit half a million, and alternative radio DJs across the country have spread the people’s discontent at the state of the music industry today.   “Fed up with Simon Cowell’s latest karaoke act being Christmas No.1?” the group asks Facebookers. “Me too… So who’s up for a mass-purchase of the track ‘KILLING IN THE NAME’ from December 13th as a protest to the X-Factor monotony?”

Unfortunately, the rebellion has divided the nation, with odds fluctuating drastically all week long, and what initially appeared to be a small internet campaign has taken over the country, with the story being broadcast across the planet.  This kid’s worked hard for months, spending time living in a house of strangers, having to learn musical arrangements and dance routines within barely a week, and living away from friends and family throughout the holidays.  And his shot at a number one single is being taken away by people backing a foul-mouthed, rap-metal US band with a single from years ago that has no place in contemporary British music charts!

With less than 24 hours to go, I’m reading all sorts of articles.  The odds are too close to call. Public opinion is divided.  But the X Factor winner has spent his first week of fame meeting soldiers home from Afghanistan, and sick children in a London hospital.  He says these visits have helped him put his chart battle into perspective.

“This week I have been faced with soldiers who have had their limbs blown off and children who are dying or seriously ill in hospital.  That to me is so much more important than getting to No 1. You just don’t know how lucky you are.”

At the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t really matter who’s at the top when the charts are announced this time tomorrow.  But I can’t help but root for this guy, who’s worked hard, and ultimately, with a journey of hard work behind him, his compassion and sincerity will go on, and I wish him every success in the world – but I’ll still be sitting here, halfway around the world, with my fingers crossed very tightly indeed.

One More for the Life List

Last night I crossed off a big something on my Life List.  Not only did I meet one of the superstars of the literary world – I met my hero.

I first found out Neil Gaiman was coming to Winnipeg about a month ago.  On Halloween, numerous independent bookshops all over North America entered a contest.  The entry: host a graveyard-themed party in celebration of Neil’s latest release, The Graveyard Book.  The prize: a visit, reading and book signing from the man himself.  My best friend and I braved the cold and headed down to our local branch of McNally Robinson to find a wondrous emporium of the macabre, decked out in a breathtaking array of ghoulish displays; costumed staff, a Wheel of Misfortune, tombstones of the “late” Dave McKean and even personalised death certificates, authorized by Misters Croup and Vandemar of the Kingdom of Stormhold.  It was incredible, and it’s safe to say I was pretty much in heaven.

Yesterday morning, I received an email from the shop explaining how the day was going to go.  They’d received such huge feedback and HUNDREDS of confirmations, so they were going to have to issue admission tickets prior to going in.  Luckily it was our work Christmas party (a lovely, fancy lunch) and we were dismissed at 3:00, so I headed straight down to see if there were any left.  Already piles of people were accumulating, but luckily I snatched two tickets before they closed for half an hour to set up for his arrival.  It was the craziest thirty minutes of my life.  Literally hundreds of people piled into centre court, while security guards tried to herd us into some sort of order, endeavouring in vain to maintain some semblance of stability in the middle of a busy mall.  Right before Christmas.  Somehow, I ended up near the front of the queue, and as mentioned in today’s Free Press, nigh on six hundred people piled behind me, ready to cram in to a little shop with dreams of meeting a legend.  Sweet arrived from work, out of breath from dashing madly through the shops, with seconds to spare before the doors were reopened.  We piled in like a raging monsoon, pouring rapidly down the stairs and flooding the floor, drowning the shop in a sea of impassioned anticipation.

We stood, packed in like sardines for almost an hour; any sense of claustrophobia was stifled by the imminent dream.  A few minutes after six, he arrived, as dishevelled, becloaked and eloquently spoken as I’d ever imagined.  An (unnecessary) introduction by the staff passed, and he began to speak.  I’d always imagined how he’d sound; the voice behind the tales of immeasurable imagination by which I’d been swept away.  He sounded just like Alan Rickman, which only fuelled my adoration.  He stood in the centre of the throng of literary fanatics, charismatic, charming and effortlessly brilliant.  He answered questions, read us a passage, and told us he was happy to stay ‘til 1:00 in the morning if he had to, to make sure everybody’s books got signed.

Unfortunately, our section had received the number which would be last up, and all children were going to be seen first; it was already nearly eight and I had a mass of Christmas baking to do before morning – so I grabbed a couple of pre-signed books, took countless photos and a few videos of the master in action, and headed home, thoroughly exhilarated.  (I later heard from a rather annoyingly less busy friend, who gave up at about 10:00, when they were only on number three!)

It’s okay if it doesn’t say “To Emily” inside – I now have a copy of my favourite book signed by the legend himself.  I got to be a part of a huge following of people who’ve been moved by his sheer brilliance of imagination as much as I have.  I have him on film, so he can read me a bedtime story whenever I like, and I have photos from mere feet away.  This was one of those moments I’ll remember for the rest of my life, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

A Back for the Future

Some of you may know I suffer with chronic back pain. I’m at the point where eight years into this progressively worsening condition, it’s getting more and more difficult to see hope for a pain-free future – I dragged Sweet along to my most recent doctor’s appointment to step up and ask the big questions: “What’s the long term plan here? She can barely sit through a movie without being in pain. Is she ever going to be able to carry a child?” I try not to think about things that aren’t in my immediate future, but as much as a fight it, it’s my natural tendency to plan and prepare. We’re getting married next year, and hopefully a few years down the line we’ll want to start having kids. If it hurts me to sit at a desk and I can’t carry the shopping in – how the heck am I going to get through pregnancy?

But that’s something to think about at a later date. Maybe. My doctor tells me to take it one step at a time, but I’ve been taking steps for years now, and it’s getting worse. I want to find something that’s going to work now so I’m physically in a good place when I really need to be. I’ve been referred to countless massage therapists, chiropractors, physiotherapists, X-ray clinics, even neurologists (at the latter of which I promptly burst into a hopeless and rather embarrassing fit of tears), none of whom have any idea as to what to do.

It’s easy to give up and resign yourself to dealing with it; a handful of drugs in the morning, a heat pack through the day, and evenings filled with lotions, mini massages (<3), pillows and inactivity. But I want to be able to live properly. I want to be able to help around the house and do the ironing to feel like I’m contributing. I want to be able to go to the cinema without being in agony and sitting with two fists behind my back. I want to be able to walk outside without feeling like there’s a series of knives sticking out of me, and I want to be able to be hugged without my entire upper right side going into spasm. So I’m ready to try something new.

Last week, I went to see an athletic therapist; a friend of Sweet’s who’d worked with him in the CFL last year. After spending an hour with him, I had a new set of activities – gone was everything I’d ever been told about stretching, strengthening, and exercising. I had a new set of evening-only instructions, a new base of knowledge (who knew how the way you get up from a chair could say so much!), and a new hope that I’m on the right track.

Then today, I came home from my first appointment with the new doc in town, a specialist in Chronic Myofascial Pain who does all sorts of dry needling and trigger point injections.  He did an exam, went through everything I’d tried, and told me there were three ways of dealing with this kind of pain.  1: Physical manipulation.  Stretching, physio, massage etc.  Hasn’t worked.  2: Drugs!! All sorts of pills that could potentially damage the stomach; not great for daily pain.  And 3: Injections.  There’s various kinds: dry needling (wiggling needles around inside the trigger points), injections of local anaesthetic into the sorest spots, and injections of steroids or botox.  I went with the middle one.  The idea was that if the worst areas could be numbed temporarily, it would stop the nerves sending pain signals to the brain and allow me to actually work on strengthening and stretching without pain.  The nerves are apparently “hypersensitive” – when pain signals are sent constantly, it gradually makes the muscles hypersensitive meaning pain at the slightest touch.  Which is exactly my case!

SO IF THE WEIGHT OF A QUARTER = PAIN AND INSTANT SPASM, IMAGINE WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I HAD 15 NEEDLES INJECTED INTO MY BACK.

I was in tears.  I was a total baby; it hurt more than anything ever had and was just over and over and over again.  He couldn’t even get to my lower back, so I had all the needles in my shoulder down to my mid back; we got a couple in the lower back but my face at this point resembled a member of a KISS tribute band who’d gone swimming in full makeup.  I was embarrassed, in pain, and I left to go back to work in total shock.  I didn’t realise it until I got back and couldn’t stop convulsing and feeling absolutely freezing, so my dear coworkers bundled me up, fed me some applesauce and sent me straight back home.

Right now I’m still a little shaky.  My shoulder kind of feels numb but my lower back is even more intense, and I can’t lift my right arm up because it suddenly weights a hundred pounds.  I’m going to go bundle up, lie down, and pray this is somehow going to help.

And dread what Sweet’s therapist friend has to say when I go back tomorrow and tell him that instead of exercises, I had a dozen needles stuck in my back and went into shock for an hour.

Happy 101

The lovely Lisa left this for me (if you don’t already read her, she’s wonderful!)  So here’s my happy start to the week.

The rules of this award:

List 10 things that make you happy.
Try and do at least one of them today.
Tag 10 bloggers that brighten your day.
Link back to the person that tagged you.

1. Going to the airport and waiting to board the plane, knowing the next X amount of days are going to be full of adventure and wonderful memories.
2. This video of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin singing a Christmas song, doing funny dances, and seriously being the best of friends.
3. Blogging, reading other blogs, and blog comments!
4. My little cat, when she’s doing little leaps for a string in the air, hanging upside down over the stairs, or generally being sweet.

5. Looking at big white wedding dresses in shop windows.
6.   Being outside in the sun – we get so little warmth I tend to migrate to the outdoors for two months of the year.  Warm sun will GUARANTEE big smiles.
7.  TV and music from the UK.  All my favourite programmes and bands are from there 🙂
8. Spending time with my lovely fiancé, my wonderful friends, or my dad.  They’re the best ever.

9.  Writing to and getting letters from my sponsor child.  I keep them all on my fridge and hearing about how well he’s doing just makes me beam.
10.  Playing board games with big groups of people!

And loads more!! Thank you Lisa for making me think about all the things that make me happy – what better way to start a Monday morning 🙂

Now, here goes my ten – this is going to be REALLY hard to narrow down…

1. Kyla Roma
2.  Leanne from the [Mis]adventures of a Small Town Girl
3. Jenn from From My Front Porch Looking In
4. Marie from Marie’s Blog Cafe
5. Nora from Walking Through the Rain
6. Hillary from Two L’s Please
7. Ashley from Sound of Silent
8. Amy from Just a Titch
9. Doniree
10. Jen from You’ll Grow to Love Me

That was HARD – can’t I keep going to like, 30??  I tried to be fair and picked ten I had open in tabs, but if you’re on my blogroll, you are most definitely on my list of people that brighten my day.  🙂

The Time Traveller’s Strife

Okay guys, I have to own up to something. I caved.  I went to see The Time Traveller’s Wife.

I’d heard bad things when it first came out and decided to wait until it hit the cheap seats; I’d loved the book so much I re-read it with Sweet immediately after I finished it the first time, and it’s become one of my most loved books ever.  I knew movies based on books had a tendency to be completely disappointing and frustrating – but it was the BEST BOOK EVER – I had to see it on the big screen!

Sweet reluctantly came along, telling me on the way how he knew what was going to happen – I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it because I’d be thinking the whole time how different it was in the book, and I’d leave annoyed and wanting my two hours back.  I hadn’t realised I was engaged to a prophet, but I left annoyed, wanting my two hours back, and angry that those people all around the world who hadn’t read the book never would after watching a puzzling, unexplained tale of two characters who go from first date to marriage with no sense of attachment, intrigue or passion.

Don’t read ahead if you haven’t read the book.  Go and buy it now, while I rant about how much I hated the film.

The movie fails to explain the science that is so expertly and admirably undertaken in the book, in which the author sews the intricacies of time travel seamlessly into a timeless take of star-crossed lovers, desperately living with the curse of a genetic mutation that pulls Henry to moments of time, past and future, of emotional gravity.   In the book, Henry is an intense character, weathered and rough, charismatic, worldly with a turbulent past but an intense passion for the woman he’s loved all her life. You come to know both Henry and Clare intimately, flaws, passions and all, and genuinely empathize to the point of tears by the end.  In the book, Henry is a character.  He’s scrawny, beaten, etched and imposing.  Movie Henry was just a Generally Nice Man – Hollywood handsome, too-short hair, well spoken and well dressed with no sense of character at all.

I’d imagined the Meadow to be so vast – so immeasurable in size, somewhere you’d lay out a blanket in a sea of wild grass and knee-high dandelion clocks and see the landscape extending all the way to the horizon.  In the movie – it was somebody’s back garden.  Moments of intensity in the book are bypassed or treated with disinterest; Henry’s episode of arriving naked in the middle of a harsh winter and struggling to survive the frostbite is unremarkable on screen, with no blizzard, no hypothermia, and no intensity.  The intricately planned concoctions created to get Henry through his wedding day without disappearing are a simple Valium tablet.  Clare’s depression following Henry’s death is practically nonexistent.  A broken-glass ridden body, displaced in time for an instant, is unforgettable in its narrative power, compelling the imagination and evoking feelings of fear, distress and danger, just shows up on screen slightly bruised and disappears again.

Key characters are omitted (including our protagonists’), details are left out and passion is lacking.  I almost cried out at the end of the movie when they left out the best part of the book (the letter I sobbed over for hours? The part when Clare’s an old lady?) and rewrote it to be a Happy Hollywood Ending.  It makes me wonder just how much say an author has when their work is taken to the silver screen.  Is there really any amount of money that could replace your art, your imagination, and allow such butcherings to take your work to the masses? This movie destroyed the very soul of the story, and I hope and pray it doesn’t discourage people from experiencing the real tale.  I can only imagine the pangs of regret seizing Audrey Niffenegger as she sat through the film.

During the credits, I noticed Brad Pitt was listed as Executive Producer.  I suppose that would explain something.  I kind of want to get in on this time travelling thing – even if it is solely for the purpose of going back to the day he came on board, and punching him in the face.

Indie Kids get Early Christmas Presents

It’s December! And what better way to kick off the holidays than with an awesome, non-retail nightmare soundtrack.  I love mix tapes – and I love all my new bloggy friends – so I thought I’d give you all a little early Christmas present. 

Tracklist:

1. No Use for a Name – Fairytale of New York
2. Phantom Planet – Winter Wonderland
3. Death Cab – Baby Please Come Home
4. Manic Street Preachers  – Ghost of Christmas
5. My Chemical Romance – All I Want for Christmas
6. Relient K – Angels We Have Heard on High
7. Bird and the Bee – Carol of the Bells
8. The Hives & Cyndi Lauper – Christmas Duel
9. The Eels – Xmas is Going to the Dogs
10. Fuel – We Three Kings
11. Raveonettes – The Christmas Song
12. Bright Eyes – God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
13. The Fray – Happy Christmas (War is Over)
14. Yo La Tengo – It’s Christmas Time
15. Ryan Adams – Hey Parker, It’s Christmas
16. Snow Patrol – When I Get Home for Christmas
17. Sufjan Stevens – Star of Wonder
18. Various – The Christmas Song
19. Band of Horses – The First Song
20. The Dandy Warhols – Every Day Should Be a Holiday

Okay, I promise, no more Christmas posts for at least a week.  Hopefully this’ll keep you company while you decorate the tree, bake cookies, rock out and wrap up for the oncoming snow.  Hope you like it it!

NB: If you enjoy the tunes, please support the artists by purchasing their music 🙂

Traditions and Wishes and a Well-Dressed Little Tree

It’s officially Advent tomorrow – even if it’s not quite December, but that pretty much means I can now unashamedly inundate you with posts about Christmas!  (Okay, maybe just this one. MAYBE another one closer to the 25th.)

Sweet finally caved after I’d wrapped 2/3 of our presents and they’d been piled on the coffee table for weeks, and let me put up our little tree.  I’ve never had a real tree like my friends, or an 8 ft high pre-lit monster of festivity to take over the room like my dad  – but my little 4 ft one comes out of its box every year, perches on a table with a little red tablecloth, an excited Rose Kitten pawing at it, and gets decorated with baubles and bows from the dollar store (goodness, I’m starting to sound like Charlie Brown here).  This Christmas may be our second one together, but it’s our first proper one living together in our own little house, so I decided the tree deserved an upgrade.

We bought a nice big long string of lights – the twinkly, warm, environmentally unfriendly ones because they’re so much more cosy than the LEDs.  We bought Proper Decorations that cost more than a two dollars.  (Except they came without hooks or strings – point?? – so we had to improvise with paperclips.  I swear that’s the only ghetto part of the tree this year.)  We bought bows and garlands and even some really meaningful ornaments that’ll serve to remind us how blessed we are, and to do what we can to help others.   I lucked out on amazing wrapping paper and spent an evening curling ribbons to a collection of indie Christmas music (I’m allowed to bring out the indie versions before December – I’m hoping to get around to posting a mini indie Christmas mix! – but next week, bring on Josh Groban).

My dad always asks me for a Christmas list every year, and the last couple of years, my lists have really made me feel like I’m getting old!  Over the last couple of Christmases I’ve asked for (and received!) an electric hand mixer, canisters to store teabags and sugar, a crock pot, a rice cooker, and a sewing machine.  What happened to gizmos and music and makeup and clothes?  Looking at this year’s list, I tried to make things a little less quarter-life crisis and a little more fun.

This Star Trek T-shirt from the amazing ThinkGeek.com.  Or just a gift voucher for their whole online shop, because everything is way too awesome.  Especially the office supplies 🙂  This Doctor Who one is pretty cool too.

The most amazing USB hub ever:

Yes, I found it on giftsforblokes.com – I don’t care!! I want one!

Books!  Audrey Niffenegger’s Her Fearful Symmetry, Terry Pratchett’s new one The Unseen Academicals, Nick Hornby’s Juliet, Naked and The Lovely Bones are all on my wishlist.  I plan on reading way more in 2010 than I did this year, and these all sound like very good books to take with me to the Dominican in January.

Games! Because Sweet and I live together now, we can get each other something we’ll actually use together: A WII. So I asked for rock band and karaoke revolution.

A cheap laptop, so I can go be a Starbucks blogger, a ceramic curling iron, ‘cause I’ve never owned a curling iron and I think it’d be fun, and gift vouchers for restaurants, because nothing beats a nice night out.  Not a utensil in sight!

Now we’re living together, we’re also starting our first holiday traditions.  Last year we snuggled in my little apartment and watched Love, Actually (incidentally the first movie we ever saw together at the cinema) and The Polar Express next to our little ghetto tree.  I also made a batch of hot butter rum batter for warm drinks.  We’ll be doing the same this year, and throwing in a holiday (/engagement, since we never had one) party with friends, drinks, games and good times – and one year to go until we officially tie the knot this time next year!  I love starting traditions, and I love the anticipation of them when December approaches.  A personal one of mine every year?  Cranking up No Use for a Name’s punk rock cover of the best Christmas song ever.

What are some of your holiday traditions? And what’s on your list this year?

In the spirit of Thanksgiving…

In the spirit of all the American Thanksgiving-inspired posts I’ve seen recently, even though we had our own Thanksgiving a month ago (complete with microwave turkey and dropped pie all over the oven), I feel inspired to write a Thanksgiving post of my own. 

It’s interesting when you look back on your life over the last couple of years and see how much has changed.  How difficult situations, at the time, seemed so arduous and complicated; taking big steps involved cutting ties, getting rid of the comfortable and easy and moving on toward the different and new.  It’s been a tumultuous couple of years, but I’ve landed with a handful of people who make me feel like life’s amazing. 

I’m thankful for my fiancé, who came back after years of not seeing each other, took a chance on me at a time when it would’ve been easier to say no (though my persistence may have played a small part in this) – he was working fifteen hour days six days a week, and seeing me the one free night of the week meant he had to give up church, time with his family and time with his friends.  I’m thankful he stuck with me when my confidence had been destroyed along with my self-esteem; while I was unable to believe somebody could ever care about me, and while I was afraid of absolutely everything.  I’m thankful for everything he’s taught me, about faith, about relationships, and about gratitude – not a day goes by without him giving thanks for the country we live in, the people we have in our lives, and the blessings we really do have, even when life seems hard.  Through him I’ve become a better person – more secure, more benevolent, and more confident.  And for this I am truly thankful.

I’m thankful for my best friend, who funnily enough also was in my life years ago, and came back after years of being out of touch.  We’d fallen out over something stupid, and at the lowest point of my life, following an enormous break up, I was sceptical I could ever live independently again.  I’d poured all my energy into a horribly abusive co-dependency as a result of my own insecurity, and I had no idea how to function in the real world.  In a recent conversation, she said I’d been like “a paper bird, literally trembling, and jangling cups and saucers as I’d pour her tea”.  She came back into my life during my biggest low, and I truly believe she rescued me. She took me under her wing and slowly brought me back to life.  I’d never been cared for like that before, and I owe who I am today hugely to her kindness and friendship.  I’m incredibly thankful for someone I know is going to be there for life.

I’m thankful for the wonderful relationship I have with my dad.  We’ve gone through some extremely difficult times together, and he’s been the constant in my life that’s helped me get through absolutely anything.  I couldn’t imagine life without him and I’m lucky to have been blessed with such an incredible man I get to call Dad.

I’m thankful that in a world of technology, incredible authors are still churning out fabulous stories, wonderful writing, and books that allow my imagination to soar further than any movie could.   Though on that note, I’m also thankful for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with my friends and family back home, to watch all those wonderful BBC programmes, and to listen daily to my beloved Radio 1 and not feel quite so homesick.

I’m thankful I got the opportunity to work where I do now.  My term may be coming to an end, but even if I don’t get extended, I’m thankful I was given this opportunity.  I’ve grown more in the eleven months I’ve worked here than I ever have in any other job, and I’ve formed friendships I know will last beyond my time here.  People have supported me and pushed me out of my comfort zone, seeing my potential and capability when I haven’t been able to see it myself.  I’m in a better place because of my experience here, and for that I am truly thankful.

I’m thankful for the awful relationship experiences I had in the past – they forced me to really figure out who I was, who I wanted to be, and were invaluable life lessons.  If I hadn’t gone through the crap, I would never have been motivated to live any differently, and I look back on it all as an opportunity to learn and grow to get to where I am today.

I’m thankful for all my new bloggy friends! For everyone who reads, comments, and emails when I’m going through something good or bad, for those people scattered around the world who check in and read my blog, and whose friendship is becoming very real – I’m thankful I found you, and I can’t wait to keep reading and being a part of your lives as much as you are mine.  

Things can be pretty bad sometimes, but when you take a moment to really count your blessings, life can seem truly wonderful.   Happy Thanksgiving to everyone south of the border!

Cowell’s Stranglehold?

Recently, there’s been an outburst of attacks on smash UK reality show The X Factor.  For those not in England, the show’s basically American Idol, but good.  Four judges (including Mr. Cowell) each mentor a category (Girls, Boys, Groups, and Over 25s), pitted against each other for their act to win the competition.  They go through initial auditions in front of thousands, bootcamp at the judges’ homes, and lives shows on an enormous stage with pyrotechnics, smoke and confetti cascades.  Winner gets a hundred thousand pound recording contract, and total world domination (Leona Lewis, anyone?). 

I’ve been watching faithfully for years now, and I suddenly feel like a minority in a war between the masses.  There’s the pop-loving, Britney-singing X Factor faithfuls who’ll buy anything remotely connected to the show (and whose musical taste is determined solely by who’s currently at the top of the charts, and who they heard in the club last weekend).  Then there’s the other half – the recent outburst of celebrities giving a voice to the music snobs (hey, I’m a music snob too, I’m allowed to say that), Sting for one claiming the show is a “soap opera which has nothing to do with music”, and Calvin Harris, who crashed another awful “Jedward” (two bratty little tone-deaf twin brothers who jump about the stage, rapping to Queen songs) performance, running across the stage with a pineapple clutched to his head.  

His aim was to vocalise the growing concern of the state of the music industry.  In recent years, we’ve seen incredible artists emerging out of the UK, but now, in Harris’s words, “it’s like a frightening stranglehold that Simon Cowell has got over the entire music chart in the UK at the moment.”  

Growing up, the phenomenon of the Christmas number one was something exciting to look forward to. After the turkey, presents and mince pies were done with, the family would gather around the TV to watch Top of the Pops, and see who’d won the battle of the charts for the all important top spot.  Since X Factor inception, the spot’s been a guaranteed win for whoever comes out of the show on top, or the annual charity single sung by the year’s top twelve contestants (always a cover, always a ballad, always so horribly Westlife). 

I love the X Factor.  I think it’s great entertainment, not to be taken too seriously, and a fun way of spending your Saturday night in the cold leadup to Christmas.  I’m also passionate about British music, and hate to see publicity taken away from real, talented musicians struggling to make it in a world dominated by reality TV.  I’m not going to stop watching the show.  But I’m not going to stop supporting the little guys, either.

Heroes

What constitutes a hero?

As a child, my hero was probably either Captain Jean-Luc Picard, or someone named Saracen/Zodiac/Wolf/Unicorn/Trojan off of Gladiators (yes, really – was there a Trojan in US Gladiators?), and as a teenager, my heroes grew into those of the English language.  I devoured all the Shakespeare I could, used Peake in an art project, and memorised Chaucer by heart.  As an adult, my heroes once again changed.  No longer celebrities or people who passed away hundreds of years ago, today I look up to people who simply desire to change the world.

According to the dictionary, the primary definition of ‘hero’ (in a non-sandwich related sense) is “a man of great strength and courage”, with a further definition of “someone admired for his qualities or achievements, and regarded as an ideal or model”.   Now, there are a lot of people out there who use their talents, morals and dedication to make a positive difference in the world, and significantly less caped, muscular crusaders zipping about the skies battling evil, and I think these people ought to be given a lot of credit.  Heroes of the written word and the silver screen may have battled monsters and other terrible foes, but they did it for the sake of others.  Translate it to the real world, and your everyday heroes may not be the strongest, handsomest, butt-kickingest demon-slayers, but courage, altruism and grace are certainly transferable skills.

So my heroes today are people that change the world.  People who volunteer for hours on end for a cause to help the less fortunate.  People who give up their Christmases to give the homeless food and somewhere warm to eat it.  The kind-hearted geniuses that came up with It Starts With Us, and everyone who carries out every single one of their weekly missions.  People who go on great feats of endurance to raise money for charity, and people who decide to use their talents to make the world a better place.

One of the people who’ve made my world a better place is author Neil Gaiman.

In a world where future generations of kids will develop arthritis and obesity sitting in front of televisions and computer screens, he churns out literary ingenuity, satiates our appetite for imagination and transports us to other worlds full of fantastic characters that’ll have you begging for his next book two birthdays before its publication date.  He’ll lead you through familiar places – the London underground, an American road trip, give you a relatable protagonist (a young Scottish businessman, maybe, who helps a girl on the street, or perhaps a recently released convict, let out early on account of the death of his wife), add in centuries worth of folklore, cultural symbols and mythology and transport you on journeys you’ll never forget.  There’s not a whiff of a wizard or a dragon that give the realm of fantasy such a stereotype, but his wit, intellect and sheer imagination make him a master of the genre.  I’ve loved Neil Gaiman for years now, loved him for all the times he’s made me rush home or cancel plans just so I could savour another journey into the impossible, and loved him for everything he’s left for generations to come.

And this afternoon, I found out he was coming to Winnipeg.  I read the words and my initial reaction was to scream, however managed to temporarily stifle my exhilaration by quickly holding my breath.  I couldn’t hold it in, so I quickly did some laps around the office and did everything I could not to skip through reception.  NEIL F***ING GAIMAN IS COMING TO WINNIPEG.  You never think you’ll actually meet your hero – so what the heck do you say if you do?  I met someone from Star Trek a few years ago at a convention (hush), and naturally proceeded to clam up, turn beet red and squeal something unintelligible while he signed a photograph for me.  I don’t want to make an even bigger arse of myself in front of the most talented and respectable man in the world.

So if you had the chance to meet your hero, what the devil would you say to them?

Who really likes being stuck in traffic anyway?

Traffic

This weekend I had an interesting conversation with my best friend about blogging. She’s been blogging for a year and a half, updates on schedule like a fiend, and averages at least 35 comments a day. I’ve been writing for five years, and am lucky to get 3 or 4 per post. I’m in the blogging communities. My posts automatically show up on my Facebook page after I’m done writing. I visit at least 15 blogs, and comment, at least every other day. So why don’t people care? I asked my friend what the trick was. Her response took me by surprise – why do you care?

I’ve always thought I was a pretty good writer – in school I was the A+ English student who read Jane Eyre for fun and actually looked forward to writing 15 page essays on the corruption of the church in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I subscribed to endless Word-a-Day emails, and carried a thesaurus around to improve my writing while I was on the go. I loved the English language, and I loved to write.

Looking back in my archives, I was a terrible blogger. I’ve obliterated all posts about my Series of Unfortunate Relationships, and what’s left is the remnants of my post-teenage rambling about nothing of any substance at all. Only in recent years have I actually started to write, instead of keeping an online diary. I write about intense emotional experiences I’m having in regards to my personal growth, my dreams, pain and persistence. I write about my opinions on current events, music and movies. I write about things I’ll look back on and actually care about.

So why do you care about traffic?

The question took me completely by surprise. I thought about it for a few days, and came to several conclusions:

  • A few weeks ago, over lunch with a coworker, she asked me why I was pushing myself out of being an introvert and into the spotlight, when clearly it made me uncomfortable. I told her “because I used to be able to” – and looking back on my life, she made me realise a lot of what I’ve done, I’ve done for the approval of others. Singing in a band, going to stage school, putting on talent shows – I enjoyed doing all of them, but I enjoyed being told I was good at something more. This is something I’ve only recently realised, but holds a lot of truth. I love to write, but I love being good at it, so naturally a lack of traffic would cause discomfort.
  • I’m an INFJ.  Apparently the rarest of the personality types, the description of it fits me to a tee. We are crushed by too much criticsm and can have their feelings hurt rather easily. They respond to praise and use approval as a means of motivating others, just as they, the INFJs are motivated by approval
  • Having switched from a boring “this is my life” blogger to one who writes about things I actually care about, I guess I had the expectation that other people would too. Fact of the matter is, the Blogging World is just like the Real World. There are people who rule it, who can post about the contents of their bowel movements and still have a hundred responses, and there are people who can write about morality and politics, psychology and the human mind, about growth and inspiration… and get absolutely nowhere. I never did that great in the Real World; I grew up feeling kind of an outcast and today I can count my friends on one hand. So naturally my blogging experience draws a parallel.
  • I don’t like schedules. I don’t like deadlines, and I don’t like planning things out and working on them weeks ahead of time if I can just put them off ‘til whenever I feel like them (this has been recently illustrated in my recent attempts at a bible study; my friend is diligent and excited to stay on the 5-night-a-week schedule, while I get to Sunday and try and cram everything in in one go). Maybe this sets me up for failure in terms of ever being a successful blogger with piles of responses and thoughts every entry. But I think I care more about doing it my way.
  • I’m not on Twitter! It seems every blogger and their dog is on Twitter, and it’s something I just can’t bring myself to devote that much time and energy to. One week from now, I’m not going to care about what I was doing at 10:12 am on Monday morning, and I don’t expect anyone else to, either.

So maybe I’m spelling my own doom. But I’m going to keep writing, about what I want to write about, whenever inspiration strikes. It’s my blog, after all. And if, along the way, somebody’s motivated to respond… it’ll bring a pretty big smile to my day (I made somebody’s actual blogroll the other day, and almost fell off my chair).

And besides, I can’t be that rubbish. I just got signed up to write for an online music magazine.  And that makes me very happy indeed.

Heartbreak

Sometimes I just absolutely hate being a part of this world.  I try and fill my life and as many other people’s as I can with optimism and positivity, but when I see things like this I just about die inside.

I received the email from my PETA subscription, and I can’t even describe how hard it is to read about things like that.  I know animal cruelty goes on in this world.  I know people kick their dogs and tie cats in bags and throw them into the river.  I know chicks get their beaks chopped off so they can squeeze more of them into confined spaces without them pecking each other to death.  The thought of every one of these things breaks my heart and when I saw the article yesterday, I spent most of last night in tears, with my poor boy trying to console me.  

Last week we were driving down a residential street, and we saw what looked like a guy kick and hit his dog.  We couldn’t stop, but if I’d been driving I would have pulled a 180, got out of the car and started screaming at him.  Last night I was this close to booking a flight to Utah, with a mission of punching the asshole doctor condoning these horrors straight in the face.  Try injecting and jamming things into your own kids’ brains.

How can people live with themselves or allow this sort of thing to happen?  I try and do all I can to support people who live in extreme poverty and disease-ridden areas because they don’t have a choice in how they live.  I pick World Vision over United Way because I prefer to do something to help those who have no other choice.  And I feel and advocate for animals for the exact same reason.  It’s not their fault they can’t speak. They need looking after too. 

It’s tough to see the images and read the stories of what’s happening in the world.  Every time I read an email I contemplate hitting the unsubscribe button.  But it fuels my determination to do everything I can to try and put an end to this horror.  I’ve spoken to Sweet, and we’ve decided instead of wedding favours, we’re making donations to World Vision and PETA with little cards informing our guests of our decision, and why.  I’ve already signed up for next year’s 30 Hour Famine and we’ve agreed to rescue another cat from the Humane Society.  Once the snow’s been and gone, I’m going to start volunteering.  I wish I could go climb Kilimanjaro and raise millions for malaria nets, or model in a campaign to stop the fur industry like Christian Serratos.

I just wish I was in a better position in this world to be able to do more.  Sometimes, lots of people in this world really break my heart.

Some days, I’m extra proud to be a sci-fi geek

This weekend, I did something I haven’t done for what feels like at least a year.  And I did it two nights running.  Ladies and gentlemen, this Friday and Saturday, I went to the cinema.  In a world of video piracy and mass filesharing; actually deciding to go out and spend $20 on a film where you may get kicked in the back of your seat multiple times (and may end up hating anyway) hasn’t really been top of my list on a Friday night.  But this weekend, Sweet and I went for a couple of good old fashioned dates.  Friday, I got to pick.  I scanned the Free Press and landed on the one that I knew nothing about other than the fact it got numerous five star reviews from pretty reputable places, and it was written by Nick Hornby.

An Education held a lot of promise – a great cast (including Carey Mulligan of recent Doctor Who fame, the bad guy off of Flightplan, and Emma Thompson, who I’ve always loved dearly.  It was a nice enough story set in ‘60s England, about a girl with a strong academic background who meets a glamourous older chap, who takes her to Paris, proposes marriage and encourages her to give up school.  Relatively low-key, slightly underwhelming (the “bad guy” doesn’t even turn into a psycho stalker, and after dropping out of school she still ends up with a place at Oxford), but nice nonetheless.

But then we decided to do it all over again.  Saturday afternoon, like the old people at heart we truly are, we grabbed a couple of toonies and hit the cheap seats, where we opted for District 9.  I’d read a bit about it when it came out a few months ago; from what I knew, Peter Jackson had gone off to South Africa to film a Halo-based movie, but something had gone wrong with copyrights and that sort of thing, and he’d done a different movie instead.  What resulted was what I can only say was THE single best sci-fi movie I have ever seen in my LIFE, and for the next couple of weeks I request you ALL go and catch this before it leaves the big screens.

District 9

It was incredible.  With sci-fi movies (and television), my general experience is that big blockbusters with lots of special effects and generic good guys vs. bad aliens formulas have always won over mass audiences, while more “intellectual” storylines in Star Trek and X Files episodes are the nerd armies’ best kept secret.  Sci-fi that makes you think is generally thought of as “for the geeks” or turned into a cult classic, never reigning the box office or drawing in a nation on a Saturday night.   District 9 may just change everything.  It’s comparatively low budget ($30 million) to other recent sci-fi movie endeavours (Transformers 2 had $380 million to play with), and cast with a bunch of no-names whose lead actor has never before graced the screen.  There’s no outer-space warfare, or journeys to other planets, and the only things getting blown up leave you questioning your morality with a sense of enormous discomfort.

I’m not going to tell you what happens in the movie.  They cleverly omitted the major plotline from the trailer, which made for enormous surprise, and I think with good reason.  But I’ve never seen anything like this.  This is a heart-wrenching, thought-provoking political commentary, which, unusually, paints us as the bad guys.  It will tug and tear at your emotions as you feel for computer-generated characters who don’t actually exist, don’t render any sort of human facial expressions, and don’t speak.  You’ll fall in love with these characters based on nothing but subtitles, which in my mind, says a hell of a lot about the quality of the script.   This film is stunningly original and can easily put a good number of larger blockbusters to shame with its performance, intelligence, emotion and imagination.  It’s pretty gory, and I was definitely rather uncomfortable at several points, but anything that causes such a reaction based on raising questions of our capability to be so inhumane is fully justified. Plus, I’m a girl. I get squeamish pretty easily.  But I’ve never been so moved by what initially looked like such a boys’ movie.  I’ve never seen anything so action-packed and at the same time so reflective, so soulful, and so emotional.  I’ve never been prouder to be a sci-fi geek.  Bring on District 10.  I’ll be one of the thousands queuing up for advance tickets that’ll sell out faster than any Star Wars movie in box office history.

Future Nostalgia, or Why I Hate Louis Walsh

I’m sure at some point in everyone’s online lives, they’ve been forwarded one of those “you know you’re __________ if…” emails, had a quick chuckle and felt pangs of nostalgia. I’m sitting here listening to the Wonder Years feature on my favourite radio station (an hour every Friday consisting entirely of songs from one year out of the past twenty), happily enjoying my Backstreet’s Back, remembering the days of watching Goosebumps after school, collecting POGs and taping songs off the radio, when I started thinking about what those emails are going to look like when they get sent to kids who’ve grown up in the 2000s (or noughties, as they’re calling it on the Beeb). What do we have today that people 20 years from now are going to reminisce about?

I started thinking about it, and then I started getting angry. Even today, we still have 80s themed clubs and nights out and parties, because everything was amazing and new and great back then (says the girl who only fell out of the womb halfway through). New Wave was so exciting; synthesizers so futuristic, style so bold (I dare you not to fall in love with any man wearing eyeliner, painting half his face in more makeup than me and singing about romance on the dark streets of London). It was so awesome, in recent years it’s made a bit of a comeback, with shops like American Apparel regularly stocking brightly coloured tights, legwarmers, baggy tops and oversized belts, and artists like Late of the Pier, White Rose Movement and the Mary Onettes , armed with keyboards, spiffy haircuts and guyliner, releasing killer indie electronica that could slip easily into any “Best of the 80s” compilation unnoticed. The future of music in recent years was looking pretty good; an off the radar revival of everything new wave with a modern indie twist.

But, let’s face it, these guys aren’t on your everyday radio. They’re not in your Billboard 100 or on the cover of the Rolling Stone. They’re definitely not coming to Winnipeg. So as much as they have my heart unreservedly – people aren’t going to remember them twenty years from now.

So let’s look at the mainstream – what’s crashing the radio waves, taking over the charts and touring all over the world these days? I grew up listening to the Chart Show on Sunday afternoons, eager to see who was in the top ten, and it’s something I’ve carried on doing since my move to Canada, thanks to the wonders of modern technology. I listen to the Official UK Top 40 every Sunday (yes, it’s full of a lot of chuff, a lot of the time, but it’s more for the homesickness/nostalgia factor) and to my horror, this past weekend, in at number two was Westlife, with yet another cover of a song from two years ago.

Westlife was one of those Uber Boy Bands formed by Louis Walsh (of recent X Factor fame) that, due to an unfortunate lack of H1N1 contraction and a lull in anvil production, are still going eleven years later. Still dominating the charts with rubbish covers of decent songs, this time they’ve taken on a Chris Daughtry track, done nothing but added a couple of lame oohs and aahs, and rocketed to the top riding the wave of somebody else’s hard work.

I didn’t mind them in the nineties – they were just like the Backstreet Boys, but Irish! Bonus! Then their manager became a judge on an international talent show, and I guess things got a little scary. What’s this? Real people with actual talent winning the nation’s hearts? I suppose there really wasn’t much else in the way of choice but to nick a bunch of songs everyone knew the words to, get the lads together for a night of karaoke, and release this uninspired bile on the masses.

I suppose my loathing began a couple of years ago when they got a number one with a cover of Michael Buble’s Home from a couple of years previous. When I heard the Daughtry cover this weekend, my curiosity was sufficiently peaked enough to look into just how far other people’s talent has pushed their career, and found 63 covers, tackling the masters (The Eagles, Sinatra, Josh Groban)… and, in I suppose the hope people wouldn’t notice, classics from Nick Carter, Brandy, and various obscure musical soundtracks. I can’t even hazard a guess as to how much money they’ve made sitting on their arses, adding the odd choir and singing other people’s songs. Tossers.

Yes, it makes me rather upset that so much of music today will be remembered for the work of decades past – success seems so easy when something so formulaic becomes the norm; random sample of a decent old track + random rapper + thumping dance beat = $, or do a cover of something that was successful before, add some pretty faces and synthesised strings and you’ve got yourself a number one. I know what I’m going to remember about this decade. Little indie bands who I heard on the radio’s “unsigned” hour and ordered their albums in from halfway round the world. The new new wave which took something nostalgic and creative and made it new and exciting. And bands who’d been together since they were thirteen, played real instruments, wrote great songs about science and love and government conspiracies, and went on to take over the world.

That’s going to be my nostalgia of the ‘noughties’. At least when it comes to music, anyway. What about you?

crap

Advocation for Self-Education

Not normally one to write about politics or current events, I couldn’t help but hop on the H1N1 discussion. At work, I’ve somehow landed myself the position of Co-Chair of the Workplace Safety and Health Committee (yes, me, I know) and naturally, the topic of H1N1 and subsequent vaccination has been a bit of a hot potato in recent meetings. I’ve found myself very much in the minority when I decided to sit in at lunchtimes and continue to watch Torchwood, while everybody else bundled into their vehicles to hit the nearest vaccination “clinic”.

Shopping centres around the city have been transformed into mass vaccination hotspots; on Friday afternoon I had to make my way past a full news crew and endless winding queues just to be able to buy a book. We were told inititially that everybody should be vaccinated, that Canada had bought more than an ample supply of the vaccine, and there was most definitely enough for everyone. My coworkers started coming in with sore arms, proud of their premature innoculations, and satisfied that their families were now safe from the flu. But then the news started to turn. People not in one of the “at risk” categories were encouraged to hold off and allow those more needy to go ahead first. Doctors’ offices were packed with floods of people. And strange reports started coming in from around the world.

Having been raised on Star Trek and the X Files, any time the government decided to encourage mass injections of something into the entire world’s deltoids was always going to peak my curiosity. And being on the Health and Safety Committee, it was only right that I did my part to educate myself on the possible risks, right? I started seeing Facebook groups popping up on “Protesting the H1N1 Vaccination”, news articles from around the world on how the vaccine was never properly clinically tested – “so far, according to the Health Canada website, there have been no tests on children or those over 60 – for either vaccine. Instead, the federal government is relying largely on results from what Health Canada calls a “mock” vaccine based on an entirely different strain of flu.” The ingredients of the vaccine seem further cause for concern – the biological index of that vaccine includes chicken embryos, formaldehyde, squalene adjuvant, thiomersal (mercury derivative), polysorbate 80 (preservative) and aluminum adjuvant among others listed on the Biotechnology Information Institute website.

And then came the post-vaccination effects: the recently married cheerleader who can now only walk backwards following a freak reaction to the swine flu vaccine (I couldn’t bring myself to watch the video). The jab being linked to 25 deaths in the USA after a letter from the Health Protection Agency, the official body that oversees public health, telling neurologists to be on the alert for a brain disorder that could be triggered by the vaccine. And in a recent study published in the journal Neurotoxicology just last month, the researchers found that primates injected with a single vaccine containing thimerosal suffered significant neurological impairment when compared with those who received a saline solution injection, or no injection at all. Thanks to Marie for the link to that one.

It’s hard, when there’s so much conflicting information flooding the internet, to really know what to do, and it really comes down to a personal choice involving weighing out the pros and cons, and deciding which makes you more comfortable. Or uncomfortable. Of course, statistically you’re more likely to get swine flu than you are to get some horrible mutation/disease/die from the vaccine. And fear plays an enormous part in the decision. Which are you more afraid of? For me, it’s an easy decision. If I’m going to get ill, I’d rather it be from a natural strain of the flu than from a one in however many chance a man-made, untested “solution” going wrong. When I was a kid, people didn’t care about hand sanitisers or breathing masks or worrying what they might catch from being on an bus for 20 minutes on the way home from work. There wasn’t such thing as “correct coughing” into the crook of your arm. You put your hand in front of your mouth and nobody would bat an eyelid. Today, we live in such a state of fear that we’ll blindly inject things into our body if the newspapers and TV make us all afraid enough of H1N1.

Fire me from the Health and Safety Committee, but I’m not getting the H1N1 vaccine. I’ve spent too many hours watching shows that question the government, and recently, doing my research on the flipside of the H1N1 vaccination coin. If you’re debating getting the shot, I’d strongly encourage anyone to make sure you’re fully informed before succumbing and falling prey to the mass hysteria taking over today’s world. I’m going to close with one of my favourite songs right now, which just so happens to touch on the topic of not being controlled or forced into anything – and also just happens to sound kind of like the Doctor Who theme.

Poster of a Girl

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Things I Want To Achieve in life, you know, the big stuff. What I want my profession to be in ten or fifteen years. Which things I want to conquer, and why. What I’m going to do to make a difference in the world. This was all brought about on Friday, when I took my biggest step yet in getting over my anxiety, something that’s socially crippled me for a larger chunk of my life than I’d like to admit.

I taught my very first class. And after a week leading up to it full of restless nights, I actually did it, and left the room slightly shaky – but entirely overwhelmed, with a sense of accomplishment I haven’t felt in a very long time. And I have to thank my newfound faith, and the prayers and encouragement of people close to me who’ve reminded me that I wasn’t put on this earth to be afraid and held back by fear, and if I wanted to make a different in people’s lives, however small, I was bloody well going to do it. So I did, and now I get to continue to push myself, continue to grow, and continue to get better at it, all the while hopefully passing on some kind of knowledge to those who may not have it, who may use something I said to feel like they can do something too. Which is pretty cool.

I also had a really cool lunch with one of my coworkers on Friday, where we sat cross-legged at little tables, eating sushi and debating the different thought processes people have. I did a brief stint studying psychology in university, and though I never finished, I never lost my fascination for everything encompassing it, and in the office we often talk about different personality types and how they relate to careers, hobbies, etc. I’ve taken the Myers-Brigg several times, always with the same result – an INFJ, making up a whopping 1% of the population. INFJ’s are known as “Protectors” or “Counsellors” with an emphasis on heightened emotional sensitivity, introversion, creativity and caring. Which is all very accurate. So then why, in my coworker’s words, “why do you want to prove you can be in the spotlight?” Why do I want to be able to be comfortable in front of people?

“Because I used to be”, I answered. Which wasn’t a lie; go back ten years and you’ll find a girl heavily invested in performing; a girl who went to stage school every week, put on talent shows, organised fundraisers and sang her heart out in shows and bands. Go back fifteen and you’ll find a child who was always first to volunteer to take the solo part of the chorus in school musicals, always the first to narrate when reading stories. My childhood formative years were full of extraversion, creativity and a love of the limelight. But fastforward to those “adult” formative years, between 18 and 23, and you see a different story. Those were the years my anxiety grew progressively worse, and I always looked back and blamed the series of dysfunctional, slightly abusive relationships I kept getting myself into. How could a girl ever believe in herself when everyone she ever loved treated her terribly? Looking back, all I can say is it was a huge learning experience, but it definitely left me feeling pretty rubbish about myself, and knocked my confidence completely.

So why DID I want to push myself out of my comfort zone so badly? When being in front of people made me feel physically sick, my head was full of fear and my body started shaking, why did I so badly want to push myself into this situation? I wish I knew my Intraversion/Extraversion scores numerically; maybe, as my coworker suggested, I was on the borderline. 51% Introvert, 49% Extrovert, though if you only came into my life in that period, you’d never know it. I asked myself why, if I was naturally an introvert, I felt so uncomfortable being alone – felt the need for company, to be out and about and doing things. But then if I was so close to being an extrovert, why being in the spotlight made me want to run for the hills. It’s a very interesting time in my life, and I don’t have the answers yet.

But I do know that I can do it. I can put myself out there and be absolutely fine in front of other people, because there’s evidence to show that I’ve done it before. Sure, I might be quiet by nature, and a pretty tough period in my life may have led me to believe I didn’t have anything worth giving to the outside world. But things have become clear to me, in the last year. I used to let the fear of other people’s judgment control my life. And it’s a REALLY tough thought pattern to let go of. But if I don’t, I’m never going to be all I can be. And whose opinion about me really matters? The people I love, and the people I’m putting myself out there for – people I want to help. I was lucky enough to get a pretty good education, and I’ve had opportunities in life that now allow me to be in a position to share some of that education with people who may never have had the chance. Seeing someone at 10:00 on Friday looking at me so lost, and then two hours later fully engaged and asking questions and looking a whole lot more confident left me feeling pretty good.

So I’m going to keep working at it. I may never be back dancing on stage, or fronting a rock band again. But I can keep pushing myself to be in front of people, with the goal of getting back to who I was meant to be, and hopefully helping other people out a little bit. As for performing in front of anybody again – well, isn’t that what cats are for?