Field of Landmines

2011: Rules of Engagement

2010-12-31T12:03:00.002-08:00

The future isn't tomorrow anymore, so we have to at least live in today.
Certain forms of regressive shit will have to cease, so we can let go of yesterday.
As such, the following are required:

the ability to dance like nobody's watching when CCTV is breathing right the fuck down your neck
a differentiation between conservatism and conservationism and reconciliation of economy and ecology
wire cutters, as the first step toward wresting electronic control (which your dell box is sure as hell not up to) and DIY cyberspace
serious ass kicking boots
a safe place to practice telepathy, or at least exercises in mass will
spot on, personal-sized blindfold detectors
at least seven new ways to say fuck off (particularly, "fuck off, you buy it!")
sewage system overhauls to reduce - with the aim of eventual elimination - global bullshit capacity
telescoping necks for the masses - look, they stick out!
secret stashes of fiber optics for electrons, which want to be free
a bell that rings anytime someone says, "hell no" and/or "no more"
pin heads to dance on
the ability to build revolution out of spit, perseverance, and necessity

2010: don't fuck this one up

2010-01-01T11:13:00.002-08:00

This morning my city is seriously involved in the task of washing itself clean, slants of rain driving against every concrete surface and mud-beaten field, and I understand perfectly well: 2009 felt like one that could have residues. With the bravery we can muster from new possibility, we need to look up, wash clean our eyes, and start of the task of overcoming last year's inertia.

2009 paints a vivid picture of giving up and of persevering. Where we gave up, our complicity sucked dry our resolve: change is hard and things aren't so bad and who's to say that'd be better anyways? Yet here we stand again, on the precipice of prorogation, in the pre-Olympic battle if human versus corporate rights, with inquiries ringing uncomfortable truths about tasers and torture, on a marble that is not far from drowning us all.

In some sense, 09 was our dress rehearsal for the launch of this decade; in a rare moment of pattern emerging in chaos, we have somehow come full circle, this time at the same moment our most recent compass round this solar orb itself comes to an end. The question, the challenge, the imperative now is that we use what we've learned. Our rehearsal was a disaster, you know it as well as I do, yet even then, there were moments. Wear green, vote for change, re-engage, give 'em hell, and you'll tap into the power in this script. Don't, and it will fall flat. And we'll fall flat, and far.

Admitting to having done wrong is hard. Admitting to having done nothing is harder. Time to suck it up, rainy, hung-over foggies. We've had a year to absorb the situation, feel it out, and pussy foot. 2010 needs boots, says stomp on in.

no more shiny things

2009-10-17T21:43:00.002-07:00

He asked, "What does it mean, then?"
She laughed.
"What? You - of all people - don't think there's some kind of reason?"
"I'm not self-absorbed enough to assume I - or we - are entitled to narrative -"
He cut her off. "Bullshit."
She wanted to look wry, but the result was sadder than she could have known. "There's no narrative unless your life somehow gets ripped open and exposed, and even then, it's shredded and reconstructed because as it was, there was no plot arc. That's the goddamn problem today, everyone thinks they're entitled to be a fucking protagonist." She tried to will there to be a pause. For effect, you know. "Have a smoke?" she asked, hand out.
He gestured to a package on a shelf across the room. She looked annoyed and crossed the room, taking a cigarette and then leaning against the window. She stared out the window, wondering if it was possible to be deliberately deliberate, or if the self awareness made it superficial.
We're still young, but we're so dreary already, he thought. Beige curtains that hang like flags, symbols of having given up. "I really can't believe you can say that. When was the last time you weren't all caught up in some fucking cause or ten, help the whoever, support the fucks offs - don't pretend you don't know what I mean."
His tone was rough and he stood up and started pacing.
She held her gaze perpendicular to his, wearing an expression that made it look like she was watching her face from outside of it, every gesture slightly too calculated.
"Yeah well. You have to do something."
"No you don't. 90% of the planet - at least - are a bunch of hedonists busy gorging themselves not thinking about any of that shit. Pointless. The only people who do worry about that shit are people who think there's a point."
"I just don't want to be embarrassed if I ever have to explain how I spent it."
"Spent what?"
"Oh, whatever cliche, the time I had."
"So it's guilt."
"Fuck off."
"No, really."
"No, it's not guilt. It's bitterness that the world is such shit."
"Who has a narrator now, huh?" She stared out the window. He had stopped pacing and stood across the room. "I just thought you might, that's all. Seemed like a nice idea, so I thought if you did..." he trailed off.
She didn't appear to hear him. "You have to be able to say you weren't a selfish sob with it."
"So you just resign yourself to being miserable and anxiously watch the world go to pot? Seeing every fucked up bit? Focusing on it?"
She leaned out the window, blowing smoke rings. He tone remained flat. "No. You just have to not get too involved." She reached behind her for the shelf, and another cigarette, still not looking at him. "So don't go looking to me for answers, christ."

attachment

2009-09-11T11:40:00.004-07:00

summer, i swear, still clings to my skin in that barley tangible way of a spider web you accidentally pull your arm through walking through the woods on a dark night or an unexpected stranger's hand on your back on a crowded street, just to get by.
underneath, in my muscles and organs, the churning tells me the next thing is already underway, being processed, plotted, prepared -
in that limited way we can, only imagining we can peek around the corner or over the horizon.
i try not to hold my breath because it is it's own kind of release, even when you're caught up in things.
transitions are really at issue: how to escort a recalcitrant self towards another feast of uncertainty and effort.

life, in cardboard

2009-07-22T15:04:00.002-07:00

After some six and a half years (can it really be?), I'll be again pulling up roots and hauling off to call a new place home. After a life time of moving every year or two, the stability of this place has been dear, so much so that leaving it behind is my biggest moving anxiety.

Come August, my commuting days are over and I'll see you at the beach.

breaking my fast

2009-07-05T10:01:00.002-07:00

I feel like a creature
one from some time before now
where things like drawing rooms would have existed
where I could claim a delicate constitution
and ward off stares
when I spend two hours breaking my fast.

Too much depends on pacing.

BC has no fucking heart

2009-05-13T10:23:00.002-07:00

That's all.
I'm not talking to any of you anymore. You can take your NIMBY, me-first, gentrifying, scare-tactic-buying, soulless selves and fold them into corners so sharp they can penetrate your ribs to prove that you literally have no heart. I'm nauseated by having to face the fact that the people in my province think cementing us as the national leader in child poverty and tripling the number people who don't have homes is something to be rewarded with another term in office and six-figure salary - proof positive that we haven't come past about age 10 as a society yet. We want to have our cake and eat it to, without ever facing the consequences. We shirk responsibility like it's math homework when we want to watch cartoons, denying the inevitable cycle of action and reaction. We are the ostrich with it's head so deeply in the sand we won't even blink when the lion creeps up behind us. We are guaranteeing our own demise, one term in office at a time, and seem intent on doing so until the gap between the rich and the poor is a chasm that swallows us all and there's no where to run to because every stream is an economic project, every building is privatized, and centuries of smog that our denial has yet to successfully dissipate suffocate us in our sleep.

My disappointment cannot be parted from my anger. Both sit in my throat like lava or embers, burning and choking.

Gordon Campbell Hates Me

2009-05-03T12:05:00.002-07:00

... and if you're from my side of the tracks, he probably hates you too. Given the past 8 years and the number of ways he's come up with to have an extremely negative impact on my life and on the lives of those around me, I literally can't imagine another 4. I won't. I'm trying to generate faith (I don't have) in my fellow British Columbians so I can believe they won't sentence us to another term of...

- sky-rocketing tuition rates and claw backs of bursary and remissions programs such that the correlation between income and post-secondary education rates has increased sharply. This also directly impacts student debt rates - were it not for Campbell's policies, my own student loan could be nearly $20 K less.

- rental housing shortages and lack of protection for tenants; from his zero-residency requirements for residential property to renovictions to failure to fund social housing, Gordo himself guaranteed our current housing crisis would come to be

- even better, he ensured it would bloom into a homelessness crisis by reducing eligibility for social services and forcing people off of disability. Since I've been teaching, I've watched too many of my students be pushed from the margin literally into the gutter because of Campbell policies. Vancouver, your homeless population has been tripled by this man's policies.

- in the tradition of marginalizing those already facing barriers, Campbell has already done just about all he can to eliminate government services aimed at supporting equality for women, from closing women's centres to reducing avaliability of legal aid. At this rate, we'll be back to the 1890s in no time.

- in the realm of education, students now face more overcrowded classrooms and teachers struggle in "classroom impossible" where the combonation of student needs, special needs, and lack of support creates a ticking time bomb.

This list could go on (and on). I tend to the humanist side, so focus on policies and how they affectt people, but if I were a rocks-and-trees type, I could produce a similar list on environmental issues (all one has to do is look at the annual Squamish eagle count and everything unfolds from there), and then there's the entire realm of privatization, more than enough to warrant a post of its own.

Whatever this election is, it is not one where any person with a still-beating heart can justify apathy.

on the merry-go-round

2009-03-24T09:36:00.002-07:00

and then the gears start up again
turning over, turning over
like a politician losing principles in the face of promotion
like wheels on a semi-trailer
that would keep on turning even if the road
were paved with the bones of small-town tragedy.
progress does not stop
and we call it progress
because it moves in a direction we recognize as forward
but who's to say going somewhere
is always better than standing still?
why is it
that without knowing what prize awaits down the road,
still, we rush towards it like
kids who have just spotted the roller coaster
swimmers when the sand is hot and the waves call
bear cubs who strayed to far from mom
like the future is a promise we still believe in.
i don't dream of rocket ships anymore
of perfect escape to a colony on mars where we rebuild earth towns
and play piano in the red light.
i just watch for gaps between the gears
and try to believe that someday they stop
and that a person can make it there intact.

there is a code, it's just unwritten

2009-03-09T16:17:00.002-07:00

the older I get, the more I understand, viscerally, the closeness of my relationship to chimpanzees and nebulae alike. to my mind, both seem to have a more functional relationship with chaos and control than do we sapiens: while we pretend the latter to deny the former, i'd suppose they accept the former, doing away with the need for the latter. i know, it's not so comfortable a notion that, having no control, but that's only because of how much we do like to pretend. and what has any of this to do with age? it's a matter of perspective. as a child, the world of adults seemed like some kind of well-orchastared symphony, or at least a play with plausible stage notes. to take part in such a thing surely required some kind of secret understanding that only maturation could bring. you know where the story goes form here.

the older i get, the more i stay the same. i've figured out a few things, i hope, but if i have, one of them must be that the world is predicated on our willingness (urgency?) to pretend at control. adults, being those people over 18 or so, make the decisions in our world, yes, but i've realized now that the sureness and ultimate understanding that i'd hoped lay behind such undertakings is nothing more than consensual mythology, pretend. i must be an adult now, since it's only a matter of counting years to make such a determination, but no magic wand waved, and i'm still just muddling through. what's more, the more people i meet, the more i come to see that we all are. when you get down to it, we probably aren't all that much more capable than our 7 year old selves were. we're just more practiced at pretending.

states

2009-02-11T11:37:00.003-08:00

I try to keep anxiety out of my heart,
which is, after all,
both the beginning and ending,
but anxieties must go somewhere.
I can feel them burning
my stomach as they pass
en route to the spine
where, ossified,
they become structural, not anxieties
but cornerstones of the skeletal foundation.
If I stop moving,
I feel myself begin to melt or,
more accurately, crumble.

BM, you said that panic is in many cases a product of our environment. What about when it isn't?

President Obama

2009-01-20T09:34:00.003-08:00

It is sunny in Washington and my eyes are wet between the lashes.

It is symbolism, and intellectually, I know how, informed by our cultural paradigms, controlled by our psychology, we are primed to react to symbolism, to make it meaningful. Perhaps it's a sign that our society is generally too well armored: my cynicism is still stronger. Beneath the calls for unity, I get snagged on nationalism, on individualism, on religiosity. Can politics ever be without barbs? Or do we need the reminders not to trust it, truly take it to heart?

Oh Obama, Mr. Justice, stumble through the oath, squint into the sun, foible visibly so you can regain the fragility of being only human - perhaps the only way to be free from that net of expectations and desperation, twined together with rhetoric as crisp as Crispin's day, to somehow evoke optimism for a tomorrow we need and fear, in roughly equal measures.

"He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words...
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers "

P.S.

Sasha, if you hit the point where you need to run away, I will bust you out, secret service be damned. Your dad gave himself to his country, perhaps, but you aren't his to sacrifice. You still get to choose your own adventure.

so this is 09

2009-01-04T10:44:00.003-08:00

I am sitting at my big, wooden desk, which used to belong to my late great uncle Steve. Of all the brothers, my grandma says, he was her favourite.

Along the front edge of the desk, the varnish is chipping and has worn thin from the rubbing of wrists. It's the only indicator of this desk's trek into the 21st C. Beyond that, the pen scratches and white out stains, the simple cut of the legs, all defy precision temporal locating.

I remember wanting nothing on this desk but a wide expanse of writing space - how silly, to imagine that writing primarily occupies space not electrons. Because that was back when I wrote. Now, I word process and I do love processing words but it is NOT the same. Somehow, life was supposed to unfold into some new creature who had time for serious deliberation and wasn't prone to clutter. It didn't though. Still just me.

I remember new year's eves where my mom sat at this self-same desk, writing furiously as the clock struck 12. She said you had to do at midnight what you wanted to do in the coming year. I have tried this method faithfully but haven't yet gotten to spend a year at peace in the arms of a lover, a year focusing on simple blessings, or a year comfortably adorned by my own skin. Not a whole year. I don't even think I get to set the theme. And now, come midnight, I feel the pressure of yearning, the pain of the branches of my heart reaching for what I know cannot be reached. Midnight sometimes finds me with tears, hiding from the weight of the dream.

It has been a long time coming, and I still can't reconcile ambition with emotion. I feel the weight of responsibility, but in the dark corners of me, neglected aspects of self sit seeping cynicism. They had been promised a day, not even a whole year. The buried corners of my writing desk, hidden beneath papers dating back far too long and the accumulated cellulose of attempted pragmatism, remind me of what else is hidden, what may be lost, when we just can't make the space.

What's in a name?

2008-12-21T11:45:00.003-08:00

Winter. Success meets a splinter; we are trained to want to win. Only, when I watch crowds rush by, playing the winter game of super shopping and day-glo Clauses, playing to win, I don't want to. When the race is to spend more to prove our humanity, I'm out. The stakes are all wrong, and I wonder if anyone even noticed, recorded, the moment when the mall replaced the community, rending titanic cracks between us for souls to slip between.

I know there is too little compassion, let alone caring. I'll show you. All you have to do is let a little bit slip out, just for a second, and watch how fast it vanishes, is absorbed - there is a vacuum, so little that absence rather than presence defines the condition.

How is it we come to have hearts and all the soft, fleshy trappings of self awareness if we're meant to live like lobsters, things with shells, and never reach outside ourselves? Yet, here we are, each of us in our own self/cocoon. Even a turtle at least sticks it's neck out to make progress. When was the last time you saw someone do that? Did you remember to love them for it? Sometimes, I think that one single act is the most humane, most humane thing we are capable of. It seems so rare, precious like a forgotten shoot under the snow.

It is my fault that I feel the swish of the blade so near my neck so often. It's what I get for leaving it out like that. I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be playing winter, playing to win.

I won't.

gitmo vs. michelle fung's hole

2008-11-16T11:31:00.003-08:00

Michelle Fung is, of course, the CBC reporter who was recently kidnapped near Kabul. Listening to her describe the four weeks she spent in captivity in what she insists on calling a "hole," I couldn't help but think, I'd rather be there than gitmo...

It's not that I don't think Michelle Fung suffered, or that her captivity was easy, but it sure sounds better that the stories I've heard out of the US "non-prison" down in Cuba. If the so-called terrorists are treating prisoners better than the so-called liberators, does that make irony obsolete?

reluctant author survives by writing?

2008-11-02T11:30:00.003-08:00

I'm going to try it, at any rate. November project: The Iron Noder Challenge

I've tried not writing through the darkest month of the year a few times, and it hasn't works too well, so now I'm going to try to opposite.

the world still needs you, James

2008-10-31T08:30:00.002-07:00

http://www.straight.com/article-164300/musicians-mourn-mike-gurr
Tragedy has struck a wonderful group of musicians, so I learned over my morning cup of joe. James, on the left with the hat and beard, was a classmate of mine at UBC. A brilliant teacher, gifted musician, and all around big-hearted wonderful guy, James is the kind of person we need more of, not less. Not less. I'm prayin' for you to pull through James. The world needs you yet.

better things to do with $290 million

2008-10-20T10:23:00.003-07:00

...other than breaking your own law to call an election that does nothing but maintain the status quo:

three words: fund social housing
help party leaders find something more appropriate to wear than old navy sweaters
finally start that project to make sure every Canadian has access to clean drinking water
fund research on how to attract politicians who aren't necessarily white, middle class, and pathologically dull
go for burgers with the 41% of Canadians who called bullshit on this whole mess
English classes for Dion, French classes for Harper, and ear plugs for the rest of us?
I'm just saying, maybe there's a little something we could do for those millions of Sudanese refugees...
add your own. This list literally goes on forever... or at least until Bob Rae is PM.

fed election

2008-10-01T08:53:00.002-07:00

I never thought I'd find myself cheering on Danny Williams, but in this case, Danny boy said it best. What do Canadians need from this election? To learn our A-B-Cs: Anything But Conservative.

As we sat on the couch last night, C and I discussed hypothetical election outcomes, of which we identified 8 (given four parties with sufficient candidates to possibly form government and a minority/majority option for each). We concluded that there is only really one that worries us, the conservative majority. Any of the other 7 would be survivable at worst, because none of the other leaders demonstrate the same kind of extreme ideological approach to governance that Harper does. When ever I hear anyone suggest that Canadians don't need to worry about Harper based on his actions since the 06 election, I remind then that that pony has been carefully corralled by having to function as a minority government, and we all stand to lose (think essential Canadian policies like universal health care) if that pony gets loose in the pasture.

The election is the day after my birthday, so I'm asking Canada for a present. This year, all I really want is a new PM.

not all people pay taxes

2008-09-27T12:36:00.002-07:00

There. I said it. In fact, it wasn't even that hard, which makes me wonder why every political campaign I've seen shrivels up into a pathetic excuse for a retort when trying to explain why tax cuts aren't equal to social programs. And not only do not all people pay taxes, but non-taxpayers are in fact citizens and people, with the same rights as the rest of us. They are often the most vulnerable people in our society, those most in need of some form of government and/or community support, such as families living below the poverty line and people struggling with disabilities. It is a kind of bigotry I haven't even come up with a name for yet to suggest that only tax payers need or deserve help paying for childcare or public transit, but it's exactly what we're practicing when we give lip service to policies that "help Canadians afford the basics" by giving them another f**king tax cut.

...and yes, I am a tax payer. However, I know full well that income should have shit all to do with citizenship. Hell, I'd feel a lot better about the 1/3 of my paycheque that I never see if it were going to programs instead of tax cuts and bailouts. Then I could believe, at least to some extent, that my tax dollars were helping. Instead, they're helping toxify Alberta by paying for tax incentives to keep those oil sands a' burning.

like a moth under a thumb

2008-09-09T08:40:00.002-07:00

it takes just a single second to turn something from a work of precise beauty and deliberateness to a mass of unrecognizable ooze.

imagine you were building something, had spent weeks formulating plans and ideas, days laying out he plans for its execution, and then, two nails or a 2X4 in, the project is taken from you and given to someone else. someone who hasn't made a single plan. someone who doesn't know how to use a hammer. you can't help but look back at your blueprints, see how strong the structure was, how high and grand the peaks would have been. would have been. it takes days at least for your heart to stop thinking of the project as yours, trust me.

like honey or glass

2008-08-27T11:34:00.003-07:00

august. it should be clear, and bright, and golden; almost not there, it runs through my fingers, the time intangible. it feels like the last days of high school, or the last day of some trip. some kind of indeterminate ending, that makes me try to hold it all the tighter. like an aqueous organism, it slips away all the faster for my efforts to hold onto it. august has scales and a whiff of unicorn or something else impossible. if you could capture it in a jar, it would have to grant wishes, reveal the future, something, but it's far to ephemeral for that. if it weren't for september, I think august might stand a chance, be able to solidify into something real: an ice cream cone or strand of sun burned grass. but september has such weight; impends towards us, casts a shadow. by comparison, it's amazing august even manages to persevere, resist getting sucked into september's gravitational pull. I am not so lucky. september claims half of august's mind and preoccupies so many neurons, it's no wonder the wings of august brush against me as only a hallucination.

to the beach

2008-08-14T11:11:00.002-07:00

This is how summer days ought to be passed. Damn Dora the explorer though - one episode and I'll never be able to plan a beach trip without hearing her voice.
Where are we going?
To the beach!

then

2008-07-26T09:59:00.002-07:00

poverty teaches no one
it's just dark and small
like a revolver
always ready to be
the final judge.

i remember dirty walls
macaroni, television and
dumping the slop pail.
there was no beauty
you just survived
between paydays.

my father
drank every friday
and saturday nights.
he lived between the
borders of the day shift
and the night shift.
that was the only
structure I knew.

i know now
that he sold
what little of himself
he had so that I could eat.
what kind of change is that?
where one generation sacrifices
itself so that the next one
can walk on its bones
with a new pair of shoes.

- Robert Hilles

He was assigned this poem, and along with the rest of his group was developing an interpretation of its message. After each class, he gets into an over sized, pearlescent white bmw. "Wow," he says to me, "I never thought of it that way before." What more could I ask for?

photographic memory

2008-06-22T12:30:00.002-07:00

one. children are beautiful in a way that no one else is. I know this to be true because we relentlessly seek to capture their images like we are building a dam against the impending flood of adulthood. the result is that I have a far better sense of what I looked like as a child than I do as an adult.

two. my most recent photo album spans about four years, from august 04 to last summer. I'm not the kind of person who takes pictures most of the time. I prefer memories to frozen images that impose their own form on a memory. when I take pictures, I worry that those are the only moments I'll remember, and all the moments in between will be lost. so I take fewer yet.

three. the one person who seems to always make me look beautiful on film is Cam. I can't believe he manages to transfer his biased eye onto a camera, but the camera does seem to come out convinced.

four. I counted. there are 5 photos of my mom, 6 of my sisters, 6 of my grandma, 3 of my grandpa, 8 of my cousins, and 3 of cam's family. there is but one picture of my father. still, it is enough. every time I reach that page, I flip past it without looking.

five. I rarely like photos of myself, and I make up different reasons. I used to have lofty justifications. they say the poet Sappho, after allowing one likeness of herself to be produced, refused to allow any others, believing that the likeness was ugly. they say this is because her face was always in motion, and seeing her features still made her seem a stranger to herself. I empathize.

six. now, I have new reasons to pile onto the old. my favourite pictures of my self these days are all the partial and accidental. in anything deliberate, I don't see myself. half a face and elbow beside the north saskatchewan river. my jawline at my mother's wedding. my feet and the top of my head on my sister's old balcony. in these accidental angles there is something more familiar. I look different these days, but certain lines stay true.

seven. the anitclimax. it's too mundane to be irony. this is an entire post about photographs with nary an image (and it intends to stay that way).

transits

2008-06-10T09:16:00.002-07:00

the life of a teacher is marked by transition. the same is true for students, but the experience, in my experience, is overall different. as a student, you are striving to make plans and reach goals. each transit moves you on to new challenges and phases of life. as a teacher, you watch all of that. watch anxieties mount in a class of grade 12s preoccupied with college applications and exam dates. watch the timid non-reader finally stare down a tough piece of literature and win. watch baby steps of academic progress, but at each transit, watch departures and remain behind. each transit brings the next roomful of faces, and eventually you come to know you're but a rest stop on their road. each transit leads you back to the same point you started from. it is not a path but a cycle. after this week, i'll simply be turning 'round again.

specs

2008-05-03T11:28:00.003-07:00

These + my face = today. I picked them up last night.

Things I seem to be able to eat:

2008-05-02T11:01:00.002-07:00

brown rice
rice noodles/vermicelli
edamame, well steamed
green beans, same
carrots, same
peas, same
broccoli, same, in small quantities
bananas
pears
rice cakes
digestive biscuits
bread, soft and whole grain
yogurt
cottage cheese
miso
tofu, so long as it's neither friend nor seasoned
miso/soy sauce, in small quantities
fish, white or salmon, 2-4 oz servings
nori, soaked in broth
cheese, in small quantities, with rice
canned peaches, not in syrup

I am not someone who has even been a calorie counter or turned down a chocolate croissant. I'm usually a pretty healthy eater, but this is madness. I want wine, steak, and chocolate. I miss garlic and peppers more than I ever thought possible. I lie in bed and think I can feel my skeleton reaching out of me. Beware: I think there's a decent chance I might end up with some kind of werewolf-like disorder where I roam the streets when the moon is full, hunting for fat and flavour.

head space(d)

2008-04-25T12:03:00.008-07:00

Lately,
there have been no tangible words.
They are the business end of communication;
what matters is left to
grunts, waves, and sighs. Palate, lips, and mouth
form the same sounds in an endless, salivating cycle, so
we have grown too used to words.
How, with that wet, fleshy shaping of air,
to note that today is not like yesterday -
something fundamental (is) changing?

I have always been foothills. I am becoming granite, a mountain, an obstacle. You can see it in my shoulder blades coming to a fine point. There are only certain elevations up to which I can tolerate growth. Also, there is some danger of falling rocks to the unwary traveler. Cliffs are dangerous places, rugged terrain like the cleft between prose and verse. There is the distinct possibility of being crushed.

If I could, I would speak only to the deaf
because words would be felt not heard
which is what they've always striven for: to be a rumbling, a vibration,
some pre-auditory experience.

Consonants choke meaning. A feeling
is not something you can wrap your tongue around. It comes first
like want desire need
come before polemics.
Come.

Let's be earthquakes on demand,
have our rumblings charted,
leave chasms for our legacy.

If I ripped open the earth, I think it would understand.

next please

2008-02-01T12:39:00.000-08:00

Outside my window, the alley way is spotted with chunks of icy slush. The dull grey sky hangs low over gray stucco and aluminum siding spliced with mottled strips of garbage-strewn asphalt. Naked grey twigs have replaced whatever lush foliage there once was, and they, like me, are reaching skywards, yearning for light. Actually living through the winter seems to me to be something of a miracle. It's not the cold that gets me, but the wet and grey. I feel like it slowly leeches the colour out of my surroundings, and with it, my life. I want nothing more than to hide inside and try to accelerate the succession of days. My mood hangs low and dark like the cloud banks around Mount Seymour, and I hunker down to wait, trying to keep faith, despite my body's protests, that the sun will indeed come out again.

Photo credit: the talented Mr. Dearden

the verbs are tense

2008-01-27T10:28:00.000-08:00

One of the more oft used verb aspects in English is the perfect, which has both a past and present tense form. This is what you're using any time you put some form of "have" in front of another verb - I have been thinking about taking a tropical vacation. I've recently learned that the perfect tenses are falling victim to the laziness of English speakers. Many of us are just using the simple past instead. Want to find out if you're one of these tense-lazy types? See below. For helping verbs, think about forms of "to be" and "have" that we use in front of other verbs -> I was walking to the store when I saw a car accident. I am expecting company. And so forth. I'll post answers soon so you can find out if your perfects are perfect.

Fill in the blanks in the following passages with the appropriate tense of the verb in brackets (). Add any necessary helping verbs.

When I (travel) in Greece, I met a man who worked as the head gardener for the Royal Gardens. He (be) the head gardener for over 10 years and knew all about the native plants of Greece. He told me that olive trees (grow) well in Greece because they can use salt water from the sea. Grass does not grow well there since there (be) too little fresh water. By the time I returned to Vancouver, I (learn) a lot about plants in Greece.

If you want to learn about the native plants of B.C., Stanley Park is a good place to go. I (visit) Stanley Park many times and learned something new every time. Right now near Lost Lagoon, park workers (build) a wetland area using all plants that (be) native to this region. The plants they

(grow) provide food and shelter for ducks and other animals. The cedar trees in the park’s forests are also native to B.C., and some of them (be) there for hundreds of years. The forests (change) since last year’s windstorm but are still a beautiful, peaceful place to take a walk.

Happy Statutory Holiday!

2007-12-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

And if it happens to be your cup of tea, have a very merry Christmas.

politics are personal

2007-12-09T11:03:00.000-08:00

Political values: morals, since political values roughly boil down to your conceptions of justice and what is right and wrong.

To me, this is the defining aspect of any person, and the kinds of people I prefer tend to be those who can't walk into a room without their political awareness preceding them. All I really care about is whether someone is a good person, but I've increasingly had to admit that, in my mind, "good" is a highly politicized concept. I've had many an acquaintance, and even dear friends I loved, with whom I've parted ways, unable to reconcile the lovely person with a political value set that makes my stomach turn. In the end, I have to really respect someone's politics and integrity to be close to them, and I think that's somewhat unusual in our increasingly depoliticized world. I have very little time or patience for people whose range of concerns don't in some way extend beyond themselves. It's not even that I require that those close to me agree with me - but - they must bother to care!

The fact that I've given up friendship for politics makes it all the stranger to me that I get sucked into the poetry of Matthew Arnold - now, if ever there was someone who I thought was politically naive and guilty of sporting bourgeoisie blinders, it'd be him (oh yes, sweetness and light will solve everything...?). Nonetheless, living in the last stanza of "Dover Beach" has been what's keeping me sane of late. Could this mean I actually care more about art than politics? I think it's just the way the right words can lodge inside you.

" Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night."

See? It's a horrible and insular view - and too f**king apt. At least I still prefer the turn of Koyczan's pen -
"You have to care about the world
Because it doesn't care about you."

Politics is the mathematics of the heart, but language is the concrete realization of its abstract equations.

get a hobby?

2007-12-02T20:03:00.000-08:00

everybody needs distractions this time of year, I figure.

blah blah blah

2007-11-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

Back in the days when I was a student, November was always the pressure cooker: midterms blend into term papers blend into finals, for a sea-sickening ride into winter. It turns out that November doesn't look any better from the other side of the desk. Sick, busy, stressed, exhausted, November is like being sucked through a straw. I feel effectively pureed.

wrong side of the tracks

2007-10-19T08:56:00.000-07:00

On Pender Street we all know which side of the tracks we live on. It's hard not to when you're only one, short block from the chicken factory of death, or when you see our block's designated 'ghost' car circle yet again in case there are any - ack - teenagers about (since clearly poor ones are the worst kind). This week, with the Vancouver garbage strike drawing to a close at last, we've had yet another reminder that our 'hood simply doesn't exist on whatever radar of relevancy they use at city hall. The news earlier this week was full of relieved West Side residents, waving cheerfully at garbage trucks, their streets clean once more. Meanwhile, a week on, the alley behind Pender Street still looks like a war zone. As the piles of trash start to encroach on the roadway, the night is punctuated with the sounds of bottles popping and car tires crunching over someone else's discards. Two dilapidated old mattresses appear to be mounting an escape vehicle made from a backless office chair and half a love seat - perhaps some kind of raft to float away down the river of garbage water pouring downhill. This might be their only chance to make it to the right side of the tracks - anywhere far from here.

Enjoying zee Island Life

2007-10-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

See? This is where I'm hiding these days. When the weather turns ugly, with buffeting winds and rain drops big enough to concuss small birds, I do what any proper 21st centurion ought: seek digital distraction. Inselkampf offers all I really want in a browser game - empire building, witty strategy forums, and even good old fashioned irc. It's like glacially slow, island-based civ, and the slowness means even I'm not too busy to play. Build an empire with mere clicks a day!

Mmm island life - must go dispatch fleets now.

if only I ate with my eyes

2007-09-14T09:07:00.001-07:00

C and I spent 4 hours at the VAG last night and it was marvelous. The Monet-Dali show was amazing, as I had hoped, even though Vancouverites really don't seem to get that impressionism is best viewed from more than 18 inches away and the fact that it was a bit of a mob scene. Still, it was amazing. Above are two of my favorites, but it's so hard to choose. They also had quite an array of Rodins on hand, and I've been a big fan ever since a show I saw at the Smithsonian oh so many years ago. His (I think it's called ) "The Fallen Angels," an amazing piece of work in marble, was absolutely captivating. We saw more wonderful art than I can name - some beautiful Monet, Cezanne, Dali - really too much for one human brain to wrap itself around. If I have a single complaint (crowds aside) it's just the Vag's tendency to prioritize breadth over depth, and the fact that some of the pieces were in rooms that were clearly too small for them - our poor, diminutive VAG.

We escaped the crowds for awhile upstairs in the Carr and G7 display, which is actually also fantastic (even though it's Canadian - oh how we don't support our own!). C had never seen it before, so that made it even more special. I think C decided he's especially fond of the work of Arthur Lisman - one great Canadian painter, to be sure. The VAG has, however, painted most of the walls upstairs green. Umm, hello??

I'm still enchanted, even though today must now be devoted entirely to marking and school work. At least my head is full of beautiful things.

it's all an elaborate array of rays and filters

2007-09-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

With the beginning of Autumn (not official till the 21st, I know, but feel the air), I always begin seeing things in terms of qualities of light. It's what makes this my favorite time of year, actually - the way the sun does exactly what Leonard Cohen wanted it to and pours down like honey, thick and gold. You should almost be able to step out onto it. One of my favorite places to relish in golden fall sunbeams over the years has been the seawall just by Prospect Point. There's something about the way the light reflects off the sea and filters through the trees there that makes it one of the most beautiful moments possible, if you manage to capture one.

The sad thing is, and it only hit me this morning, that those specific moments are no more. Prospect Point was nearly leveled during the wind storms last year, and now I hear there is talk about just paving certain parts of it (more parking) since the foundational damage was so extensive. When it comes to beauty, I suppose everything, no matter how permanent it may seem - rocks or trees - fades away eventually. I shall have to seek my sunbeams elsewhere.

One last thing: speaking of the colour of light, at this moment I can't help thinking of the room my English 12 class occupies. The fluorescent lights are orange like streetlights. It should be illegal. I wonder if I can justify some indoor volleyball to speed the necessity for new lights...

pedagogy and praxis: windsor house and a mandate for democratic education

2007-08-19T12:48:00.000-07:00

"Praxis: a complex activity by which individuals create culture and society, and become critically conscious human beings. Praxis comprises a cycle of action-reflection-action which is central to education. Characteristics of praxis include self-determination (as opposed to coercion), intentionality (as opposed to reaction), creativity (as opposed to homogeneity), and rationality (as opposed to chance)."

Today my old school, Windsor House, is having an alumni picnic and discussion about democratic education. Whenever I think back to my time at Windsor House, I return to my old frustrations about the educational options and opportunities we offer our young people. As a recent former young person (lol) and current educator, it's an issue that's close to my heart. Again and again, while considering our public schools, I can't help but think that we could do so much better.

It might help to know something about the nature of Windsor House. The buzzword right now is democratic education - in my days there, it was non coercive education. I don't think the terminology really matters; it's the idea and spirit of this school that is so special. Non coercive essentially means without force. Democratic brings to mind ideas of ownership, collective responsibility, and participation. These are hard notions to conceptualize in the concept of a school if your understanding of school is rooted in the traditional and established forms of this institution: age-graded, rigidly scheduled, top-down places that churn through hundreds of young people every year. Windsor House is nothing like this.

Imagine instead a school that by it's very design requires each student to identify and develop their individual beliefs, abilities, and passions. Imagine a school where the actual job of a teacher is to support this development, to mediate between ministry requirements and a community of autonomous learners. This is Windsor House. I remember the school year starting with a meeting of all of the students and teachers, where students discussed what they wanted to study and do during the school year, and teachers presented their interests and subject areas, and thus classes were formed. Classes were also only one of a range of learning opportunities the school presented. The school community, during my time there, showed a profound commitment to finding the resources and support to allow students to explore and develop a wide range of skills and talents. The democracy didn't end there either. The school itself was student governed. School board regulations were the only imposed rules; all other school rules and policies were generated by members of the school community, who presented suggestions that were voted on at public meetings. Any student, staff, or community member could try to pass a "resolution," and everyone's vote carried exactly the same weight.

School rules, and infractions thereof, were also the responsibility of students, who, alongside supportive staff members, ran the school court and thus were responsible for maintaining the well-being of their peers and community. In particularly troublesome cases, the entire community would be called together to confront problems and work together to heal rifts. I can only suggest that this level of involvement had a profound impact on us students. To really understand, you'd have to be a young person and find a space where your ideas and concerns were taken completely seriously, and your ability to contributed was assumed, not questioned. Given how young people are often treated in our society - let's say marginalized and leave it at that - Windsor House was more than a breath of fresh air; it was a lifeline.

At the time, while I was a student at Windsor House, I only knew that this system worked for me. As I went on through university and entered the faculty of education to begin my own teacher training, I necessarily became involved in studying pedagogical theory. Contemporary studies of education and student success are rife with buzzwords too, but one phrase that surfaces again and again is student-centred. This is proposed as a model for successful environments for student learning, and is quite widely accepted as the most effective model. The idea is that teachers, rather than being the "sage on the stage" who lectures and delivers content top-down, ought to be a "guide on the side" who lends their expertise and resources to the autonomous educational pursuits undertaken by students. In it's interpretation, this theory is frequently reduced to the sphere of the classroom, and limited in scope to the kinds of activities students undertake in their process through the teacher-determined curriculum. In short, it is often reduced to favouring "group work" over lectures and teacher-led activities. Herein lies the problem.

The actual philosophy behind ideas of student-centred pedagogy shows that it does not work if reduced to only the mirco components of the system. Shallow autonomy in limited situations simply cannot have the benefits of real democratic education, which I believe is what lies at the heart of such student centred pedagogy. This means that in most of our schools today (believe me, I've been there too) we are not offering young people today even what we already know to be the best. We claim it is impractical or impossible, ignoring functional and even local examples like Windsor House, and we will all suffer the consequences of this cognitive dissonance.

Newspapers and other media report it so often that I don't have to. Young people don't vote, are inclined to apathy, materialism, violence, and so on. They are old stereotypes. Not all, or even most, young people are like this. It's a time-honoured tradition for an aging generation to fear the one that follows it. Nor is our crisis of public education a recent one. So how can I claim that it is especially imperative we resolve the gap between educational theory and praxis right now, as opposed to oh, say a decade or century from now? I simply say we owe it to ourselves. We face problems and tensions on this planet that increase in scope and complexity every day. Growing populations and technological advances have make the big picture an ever-shifting landscape and yet, we still also have a capacity for positive change that is itself unparalleled. We have the resources, the knowledge, and models to follow. We have the mandate; it's time for change.

Our province spends something like $35 million on education every year; the amount per student is in the thousands. This represents a serious commitment. Is the result worth it? We do some very valuable things within the walls of our public schools, but this should not blind us to the idea that we can do better.

sweet moments

2007-08-11T18:10:00.000-07:00

Every teacher looks forward to the end of term, I'm sure. The last day of class is a sweet one, when you have a rare chance to reflect on the students' accomplishments and your own foibles and successes. In adult ed though, I think it might be even sweeter yet. I know I've been spoiled, but it is really quite different from high school, even if the students are high school age. It must have something to do with the fact that in our system, students select their classes and design their schedules, which means every student in a class has chosen to be there (at least, this is the reason I'm sticking to), because they sure appreciate their teachers in a way I've never seen in a high school.

We had our last class of Friday. The class was writing a test, and even so, they were all lovely. It's wonderful to hear from students what they have learned from you and how they have enjoyed your hard work, and let me say, I certainly got my fair share of this. Hugs, handshakes, fond farewells, and so much earnestness my BS detector would go of it it were in any other context. So sweet. Two of my students brought me a beautiful blue agate bracelet, and another two, a dozen pink roses. I felt like a bloody debutante. Did I mention we were only in session for 6 weeks? I just might never have a better, more generous, kinder class.

summer is for art

2007-08-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

it's hot. heat, passion, late nights - there's no real arguing that summer is for art. I know this, because I did one of my favorite contemporary poems with my class yesterday and they actually took the time to love it (um yeah, "Beethoven," by Mr. Koyczan of course - *brilliant*). One of my students, the sound of whose voice is unicorn-caliber rare, gave the whole class a spiel about how it was the most inspiring thing she'd ever heard. Lemme tell you, student's don't often take the time to actually appreciate literature they read at school. Summer is for art.

On that note, it being summer, and summer being for art, I offer a suggestion - go see some art! For those interested in something new and awesome, I even have a suggestion.

Holden Caulfield Productions presents:
"The Boxer Who Just Returned From London"
a Hip-hop opera by C.R. Avery
at the Havana Theatre
1212 Commercial Drive
Tuesday August 21st to Saturday August 25th
Shows at 9:00 p.m.
Tickets available at Highlife.
Seating is very limited so prepurchased tickets are recommended.

You might have missed Freight Train Land, which only shook the foundations of a genre and sold out across North America, from here to New York, but if so, then it's lucky for you that the man wrote another. CR Avery is like Dylan Thomas and Bob Dylan put in a blender and then used to coat one mad-skilled beat-boxing MC. With keytair. And harmonica. Really, you don't want to be left out, or he'll close the show, take it on tour, and all you'll be left with are the rumors of something beautiful.

It would probably be even better if you made yourself a work of body-paint art before going. Summer is for art.

at least it's just time and I'm just a person

2007-07-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

Gee, rain and marking sure make the summer speed by. Wait - is that even what I wanted? crap. Maybe next year I'll finally... (oh eternal repository of dreams not yet realized).

summer daze and nights

2007-07-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

Oh the sun is here at last - winters in this town make me understand how so many ancient peoples ended up sun worshipers. At least in this corner of the globe, it's the great life-bringing orb. Just ask the roses on my windowsill. On the other hand, the just about 30 students who make up my new English class might have a different perspective, but that's just because we spend the hottest part of the day in the sauna together for three hours (oh wait, that's our classroom). Getting the new class rolling has pretty much totally absorbed my time this week, but I'm hoping by next week to be ready to do some serious summering. At this point, I haven't even been swimming yet, let alone partaking in any of the great evening events that sprout up in the summer.

Folk fest is next weekend, and the line up sounds fantastic, but it's also one of the most expensive shows in town. If you're looking for some musical/poetic entertainment that won't break the bank, there are a couple of goodies coming up. Tomorrow night (that's Sunday July 8th), Mike McGee is performing with CR Avery and Michael Paterson at RIME (Commercial near Napier) at umm.. let's say 9. While I don't know this Michael Paterson character, he's keeping impeccable company, so he can't not be good. Mike McGee is a brilliant spoken word poet from San Diego (though he belongs here) who has won all kinds of awards, and more importantly, writes and performs powerful, brilliant, moving, hilarious, offensive, and otherwise fantastic stuff. MMMikeMMMcGee. And, he'll be rockin' it with CR Avery, a local legend (honestly) blues hiphop poet muse master. If you don't know who he is, then you owe it to yourself to find out. I'm not promising I'll actually make it, but if I escape marking and prep in time, it's where I'll be.

If that event's no good for you, fear not, I can suggest another. If you find yourself with unoccupied time this Wednesday at 4ish, head drive-ward for Live on the Drive, one of the free promo concerts leading up to Folk Fest. The show will be in lovely Grandview Park, and features the Fugitives, another amazing Vancouver-grown spoken word music collective that is mindblowingly talented. The group is made up of Barbara Adler, Mark Berube, and Brendan McLeod, so let's see, that's two slam champions (and gifted, wonderful people to boot) and one silky-smooth crooner - hey look! The recipe for an amazing afternoon in Grandview Park! Also performing: Cuban dance music (samba) group Los Munequitos de Matanzas, some funky jazz hiphop group called DNA6, and some crazy bhangra-pop group called Signia. How could all of that not be fun?

It's summer. Go play.

I heart summer in this town

2007-06-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

If this works, CR is one of the most fun guys I know to rock out to - a Vancouver summer tradition if you ask me. Plus - ooh, fancy - video.

motion just feels like progress

2007-06-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Outside they say it's June but it still looks like May - no real summer yet, no beaches, and just more of the same. I wrapped up my first course last week and it was splendid, but now the next looms, set to start just days from now while I'm still finalizing marks from the last one. The world's a fascinating place but I just haven't had time for revelations lately. Maybe it will help being at one school instead of three this summer.

In my free time lately (ha! free time?) it's been the new Zelda on Wii. Mmm slaying trolls. There something about the way an RPG never strays too much from the classic format that has made the whole game make some sense to me even though I've never really played anything like it. Follow the clues about "strange goings on," and collect items until you're powerful enough to take on (insert name of evil wizard or demon thingy here). Ahh the simple life, when good and evil is determined by "can I target it?"

But now it's back to marking exams. See you at the beach.

pollyticks as usual

2007-06-06T11:07:00.000-07:00

It's G8 time again, and once again, the leaders of some (okay, most?) of the world's most powerful nations have gathered and are in danger of being up to no good. Our own (sigh) (groan) leader Stephen Harper (there, I said it, okay) is hopping on the Bush boat to global warming land - I think he opes it'll make Canada the next tropical tourist destination or some shit. What a clever (small minded, backwards) man.

In addition, they always seem to spend a good part of these meetings explaining why they haven't been able to live up to their past promises and agreements. If you cut past all the spin and bullshit (then there's nothing left?) what you'd hear would be something like: but we were under public scrutiny and there were like these angry protesters and it was getting all messy, so we had to say we'd do something about (insert global catastrophuck here). We didn't intend to actually spend and time or money on it, just a few words. This year, getting the supersized G8 shaft: the 2005 pledges on global poverty, aids, and education.

Thankfully (yes, end on a positive note, then they might come back), this year's G8 is being held in vunderbar Deutschland, a suitably progressive place, and the public there is giving them HELL! Thanks Germany! I wish I were there to help! Alas, sometimes life just doesn't allow for last-minute trans-Atlantic hops, but there is still something we can do from our side of the pond: sign some petitions. These have been rapidly gaining signatures and are being presented to the G8 leaders. Do your bit! (Because what's in a name? when did you last use it for something better than this?).

Go to: http://www.avaaz.org/en/climate_summit/
and/or http://www.globalaidsalliance.org/G8_Petition_May_2007.cfm

Vancouver City Counselors Behaving Badly

2007-06-04T08:22:00.000-07:00

I don't know where my original post on this ended up. I posted it and blogger promptly crashed on me - the same old song and dance - so here's the redux.

Last week was the Adult Ed. Graduation, held at JO for all of the grads from our 6 different schools. It was my first, and I found it a particularly moving event. In all my grad-going days I've never seen a prouder looking bunch, and I think that's a testament to all of the diverse barriers our grads have overcome by the time they walk across that stage. At any grad, you can usually tell which election is coming up by which level of government sends the most candidates, and the upcoming civic elections were made more than obvious by the swath of counselors who were a part of the platform party.

A full eight seats on stage were occupied by civic politicians: four school boards trustees and four counselors. Not bad when you consider the whole city gets 11. I wish I still had the note where I scribbled down their names during grad, because frankly, the performance they put on was DREADFUL! Not a third of the way through the ceremony, before any of our valedictorians had spoken, the entire flock of eight less one trustee evacuated the stage. Can you imagine? Midway through a graduation and half of the platform party walk off the stage? It was atrocious and very obvious political maneuvering. Clearly they weren't actually there to honour our hard working grads, but rather just for the few minutes of air time in a packed gymnasium. Cheap.

And they seriously all got up and left the stage at once, before a single grad had walked across it. So thanks for coming counselors, but if you're going to use our ceremony as just another opportunity for political opportunism and behave disrespectfully towards our grads, then please, don't come. Judging by how the people I talked to this year felt about the whole thing, if it were to happen again I suspect the resulting letter to the editor campaign would be even more damaging than just being eaten away by the guilt of knowing you acted shamefully on what may be the most important day yet for hunderes of young people and new Canadians. It might even damage a political reputation or two, and based on what I've seen, that's the one thing they can't abide.

the way things go

2007-05-17T10:15:00.000-07:00

It's hard to find something to blog about when you get stuck in the whole work cycle and it starts
EATING YOUR BRAIN
that's right, no brains left here. Sometimes I think my students slurp them directly out of my head with straws. It's almost relentless. I think we see more of each other than any of us see of our families or friends. And every night I go to class and am like,
LEARN. Are you smarter yet? LEARN.
And they're mostly a really hard working group, so they mostly do learn, but sometimes it drives me CRAZY because the people who most need to hear what I'm saying are the people who are like
BLAH BLAH BLAH. I already know this. I'll just distract others.
And it makes you want to smack them upside the head because you're like,
no, actually, you don't know how to structure an essay. And I can tell because I mark everything you write. :)
Cheeky.

wii get to play!

2007-05-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

It finally happened yesterday, after soo many weeks of patience, and now I have to go to work. There's just no justice.

a beautiful day in the neighbourhood

2007-05-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

mmm, outside my window I see sunbeams, blue sky, and puffy white clouds and it is true that May is just a better month than April folks - it's when things actually turn nice here in the 'couve. My windowsill roses certainly think so - I've got something like 10 blooms right now, and buds galore.

There will be no beautiful day out in the neighbourhood for me today though. I'm sick, and have been since Wednesday. Feverish, tonsils and throat all swollen, ears blocked, sinuses - well anyways, I could go on. And I thought now that it was actually spring all this winter sickness crap was supposed to be over. I totally croaked through my last two days teaching this week, relied on advil cold and sinus to keep me functioning - fuzzy, but functioning. So today is my day of rest. Time to recover, and maybe even do a whole whack of marking. It's a good thing I have such great students right now, or I would have just fallen flat on my face this week.

my brothers, I have dreamed a dream

2007-04-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Last night my head was full of crazy weird symbolism. It's probably just the end result of a very intense week - a good one though. I have a pretty neat group of students in my English 11, and we are already rolling along, and picking up momentum.

Which doesn't explain why I dreamed about cleaning up hand grenades in the Egyptian dessert, nor pulling a whale out of the ocean to rescue endangered angel fish from its stomach. I also saw the stars forming patterns around the moon, and had a field of grain ripen as I walked through it, which is what reminded me of where the title of this post comes from - my grade 3 production of Joseph and the many coloured coat. As you may know, stars and grain featured in his dreams too. I can't be the only one who's enough of a freak to remember lines from a play they were in more than 16 years ago, can I?

Finally, I dreamed about getting a tattoo of Nefertiti. I was told by the old man who gave it to me that you must wear the faces of those you dream of, and they will act as armour and watch over you. As a little girl, I used to have Nefertiti dreams quite regularly, so he tattooed her visage on my back. Ever since I woke up, the idea has stayed with me. Tattoo?

I never blog at work

2007-04-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

but I guess there's a first time for everything. I've been here (and at the school up the street) since 9am and it's almost 8 now... only another half hour to go (these are the joys of not teaching in a "regular" school - crazy mad hours sometimes) but my brain is mush, so this won't be the crisp, articulate prose it would have been. Nonetheless, I think the idea is worth sharing.

It all started with this fantastic class I was subing in this morning. Just the greatest bunch of students you can imagine, and so appriciative of my being there to work with them. Dreamy. And smart as all hell too. The students were talking about the whole heart-breaking tragedy at Virginia Tech during thier break, and they roped me in. Specifically, one student roped me in.

She asked how long I thought a person had to live in a place to be considered OF that place. I knew right off from the way she spoke that her issue was about the way the race card has come into play with regard to the gunman. Since the brake was just ending, I opened the question to the class, who all chimed in their two bits about the importance of where you spend your childhood, adolesence, go to school, and so forth. Next, I asked them if they thought that race had anything to do with what went on.

When I saw the newsies start playing up the race element, you know I was pissed. I can't believe that any one race or group could have a monoploy on violence, and from all I'd read and heard about what happened in Virginia Tech, I was convinced that this crime could have been committed by anyone, race irrelevant. School shootings (shiver) have been planned and carried out by members of a whole lot of different ethnic and cultural groups.

Of course, as is so often the case, the students were smarter than me. Back track - this whole class is ESL students (though it's not technically an ESL class, oh the joy of the institution), from all over the place - China, Malasia, Japan, Iran, Romania, Argentina, just to name a few. That's only relevant because it suggests why some of the students had such clarity about this issue. What they told me was, essentially, this: one of the immigrant groups who currently face the most discrimination (aside from those from the middle east, a whole nother tangent waiting to happen) are Koreans. This is mostly due to the substantial recent increases in immigration from Korea to North America. They've become the latest groups who is "taykin' awr jawbs" and other such nonsense.

The shooter in this case had been in America for by far the majority of his life (making him American, by any measure I can justify) but it is entirely possible, as these students helped me see, that he continued to experience marginalization and discrimination for the crime of wearing his background in his skin. And it's entirely possible that that kind of treatment contributed to the young man's mental health problems and ultimately to his actions.

The bottom line: I'm not saying feel sorry for the guy, by any wild stretch of the imagination. What I am saying though, is that if race is a relevant consideration in this whole mess, it's not in the usual "people who aren't like us are scary and want to hurt us sense," but rather in terms of the message for the rest of us. Racist, bigoted, and discrimanatory behaviour, over the course of a lifetime, are enough to make anyone sick in the head. If we want to keep living in a safe society, we have to stop pushing people to the margins - it's a dangerous practice.

it's not all glamour and paperwork

2007-04-16T09:42:00.000-07:00

New jeans today, I'm thinking. The old favs have more holes than I can count, and while that only makes them comfier, they're not exactly wearable in public any more. Maybe I'm just unwithit (yes, one word now), but I've had them same favorite style of jeans for like 5 or so years. Sure make shopping easier.

After that, it's back to course planning.

when good editing goes bad

2007-04-13T16:51:00.000-07:00

"German liberals faced a dilemma: which did they value more punctuation here unclear - the goal of nationhood or the principles of liberty?" (sic) (SICK!)

Nobel, Thomas F.X. et. al. (2005) Western Civilization: The Continuing Experiment. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company.

what it takes

2007-04-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has followed my adventures over the past year or so probably already has a good idea of what it takes to be a new teacher. Ask any of the friends I haven't had time to catch up with in ages and you'll understand that it means pretty much having no social life. Peer into my book bag at all the folders of papers and you'd see how many hours are devoted each week to marking and planning and organizing. Check out the groove I've worn into my couch by coming home and collapsing at night and you'll get a good idea of how much energy gets poured into all my students and projects every day. These are the intangibles.

What I don't talk about as much are the tangibles, but they just make my head spin. Five years at university for the two degrees required means that my monthly student loan payment are more than my bloody rent. More than my rent and I live in Vancouver - nuff said. And this for the privilege of teaching some of the most marginalized and disenfranchised students in our city. It's a good thing I know what I do is valuable and needed, or it just wouldn't be worth the costs.

where greed comes from

2007-03-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

I guess I'm really only thinking about one variety of human greed, which makes that title a bit of a misnomer, but what the heck, it's my blog. I was thinking about this while blow drying my hair just now.

So, it's starts with the idea of the nitty gritty of everyday life. Described variously by authors throughout our history as the machine, the weary procession of the mundane, the dirty details, and so forth, it's really what drags us all down; that procession of bills, housing, the need for subsistence, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning ourselves and our surroundings, turning hard bought food into a meal then into waste, bureaucracy, taxes, health care, auto maintenance - all those things none of us would mention when asked what we do, even though they absorb the bulk of our material and ephemeral resources.

The point: we all (gross generalization, but what do you want? maybe some of us really just want bunnies instead. that's okay.) want to be free of these things. This, we think, would enable us to devote ourselves wholly to our 'true passions,' 'callings,' destinies,' and whatever other lofty bullshit we'd like to claim. Hence, greed.

How does that work? Because if we only had just a bit (slash boatload) more money, then we wouldn't have to spend so much time worrying about these things. We could eat out, hire someone, buy the perfect product to deal with whatever - if only we had a bit more... The real problem here I reckon, is how this can twist even generally non-materially oriented people into greed. Read: I want to save the world! If only I didn't have to work to pay my hydro bill, I could finally (feed starving orphans, reform the WTO, end the arms race, save fluffy seals, whatev.) Well, I guess that means I need more money... Sad, really.

Personally, I say no. It's not that I think I begrudge the muck of daily life any less than anyone else, but I have come to think that there is something noble in paper work, bowels, chopping vegetables. These are the collective human experience. They are what a human life is really composed of and what we as people do! To strive beyond the confines of one's life is surely human, but to actually be able to do so is a luxury. Repeat LUXURY. To think of it otherwise cheapens the fragile nobility of the day-to-day existence of us wee Homo Sapiens.

Strive for art, but don't overlook the joy of a meal cooked with love (or chillies). Aim to elevate the discourse, but don't forget the beauty of just being able to speak. Life is what we do.

...back to attacking the soggy hair.

hey teacher, leave those kids alone!

2007-03-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

So here is the latest on the whole career-building front: it actually seems to be working. Starting at the end of next month, I will have an actual course - English 11, at one of the biggest schools in the system. It's a nine week version of what would usually be a much longer course (a year in high school or 4 yo 6 months in adult ed.) so it is a lot of hours a week and will be a bit crazy, but hey, it'll be mine! And English 11 is a great course to teach too - senior level academic sans the dreaded provincial exam.

happy happy happy happy....

tiny blue marble

2007-03-06T10:19:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll make it more obvious that I care about global warming, since I know that's what we're all supposed to be passionately invested in at the moment. And I truly am concerned about global warming, deeply concerned. It's just that I'm not deluded about it.

We are, without question, changing earth's climate. Some places are about to get pretty toasty while others confuse those on the knowledge periphery by actually getting a heck of a lot colder. Ocean ice is melting en masse, which will result in rising sea levels - a major issue for a species that has, throughout history, done it's best to build all major settlements right around sea level (that'd be us). But see, there's the issue. I am concerned about global warming, but my concern contains not a single grain of world-saving complex. Yes, we do need to do our best to mitigate the already alarming impact we have had on the environment, but not because this indifferent planet really gives a shit.

Ultimately, my environmentalism is a direct result of my humanism. What I care about is not hoisting needless suffering upon my fellow man, and thus I seek to minimize my footprint, to live lightly on this earth. If there's one thing I don't doubt, it's that global warming could lead to incredible human suffering as we drown, starve, freeze, and suffer all kinds of worse fates we haven't even imagined yet. The earth, on the other hand, will be fine. That's what mechanisms like global warming are for - causing a massive global shift so that any established damaging patterns (or really particularly nasty one-offs) are disrupted and the planet can slowly creep back towards equilibrium. If we humans push things too far, this little blue marble will pretty much rub us off its skin and go on. Once most of us are wiped out by flooding and associated catastrophes and the few who remain have no choice but to devote their every waking minute to subsistence, humans will essentially stop being a threat and the earth will do just as it has after countless ice ages, warming periods, meteor impacts, eruptions, and nameless other massive disruptions: slowly return to normal.

In short, I say f*ck this world saving crap. The world isn't particularly interested in being saved by the likes of us - a mere species - anyways. Our job, our most important and noble job, is as it has always been: to save ourselves. Let us re instill with honour the notion of saving ourselves and our fellows. As a species, that ought to be our most consuming concern, what we strive to do with each waking hour. Save the humans, and toil not in the service of this indifferent little earth, for surely it will shake us off like so many water droplets from a wet hound should the need arise. If you ask me, environmentalism is the ultimate humanitarian project, as it strives to prevent great calamities from befalling this peculiar species of squishy hairless apes. And the calamities brought on by global warming my be the greatest challenge to human survival yet.

Okay, now you can start disagreeing.

i eat books

2007-02-28T11:17:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's something as completely straight forward as how I was raised, but I demolish books like practically no one else I know. I have way more book than I can justify owning lining the walls of my living room and bedroom, most of which I've read twice (and some of which, in my youth, I read a dozen or so times). When I meet new literary types, I have to admit that potentially gaining access to their library isn't the furthest thing from my mind. After KO moved in, pretty much the first thing I did was read every book she owns, a habit I've probably had ever since devouring my mom's collection growing up.

My point: I pretty much always have a book in hand. A good book = contentment. And do you know what I have to read right now? NOTHING!

A journey of a thousand pages begins with one good story. Any suggestions?

(p.s. - Cam has performed yet another tech miracle and gotten me back online, so expect e-mail responses and the like to resume)

stress and insecurity

2007-02-14T21:48:00.000-08:00

this teaching madness is really my first attempt at doing any sort of career thing (you know, something beyond just-a-job customer service bs) and so maybe that's why it's like walking on quicksand. it's just hard to have faith sometimes. everything is going so well that i'm at least partially terrified - it's like waiting for the other shoe to drop. in the past four months i've gone from being the lowliest of eoc's (employee on call) to, somehow, the go to girl of the year. i seem to be first in line to step up whenever chaos strikes - aka constantly. maybe it's just because i'm willing to try, but then again, maybe it's actually all these long years of hard work actually paying off.

but that's the problem, really.

i've been working at this for so long that i can't quite wrap my head around it working out. i still don't have that faith in myself that i had been hoping would just blossom someday. any time i get away from work and get a bit of perspective, i still find myself going really? me? you want me to do that? and i know it's crazy good fortune, and crazy hard work, but i'm just still outrunning so much self-doubt.

house of cards...

...just hope there's no breeze?

no promises for what tomorrow might bring, but for now, i'm just trying to hit the ground running. tomorrow i face down another first: the structured class. i've done the room full of teenagers a bizzilion times, but somehow a room full of adults is exponentially more daunting.

wish me luck?

i'm always leaving

2007-02-08T10:14:00.000-08:00

One foot out the door while I plan how to gently break the good bye. Before the door swings shut I'm already onto the next place, day, door. I spend more time on the bus than with the people I love. More importantly, I'm never anywhere for long. My best acquaintance is the door. The door: each one hides another system and another pending good bye. Don't look back - click - it's closed. Then on to the next. I can't even tell if the doors are opening or closing any more. Metaphorically speaking, that is. I haven't actually been walking into doors. Just through them. Perhaps one day I'll swing like that - get hinged. Click - good bye.

repeat as necessary

2007-02-06T09:16:00.000-08:00

Panic as a way to start the day.
I wake up. THUMP. With my first breath, my heart jumps. From there it's all what day is it?what am I doing today?am I up in time?where do I have to get to?am I forgetting something? and there's always some new thing to be nervous about so it's like my natural relaxation cycle has broken down.

Always some next new thing and always something changing. My schedule changes so often I can never remember until I look where I'll be and what I'll be doing. Guaranteed the moment someone asks me what my schedule is, it's already changing even if I don't know it yet.

Constant inconsistency.

New desk. New school. New role. New whole set of madness to wrap myself around. Just call me guinea pig - reee reeeee. sigh.

I'm off now, because nothing can wait.

..eight days a week...

the blur of an object in motion

2007-02-02T10:56:00.000-08:00

Days and night blow by me like trees through the window while you speed down the highway. Is there a forest through there somewhere? Some say it's February already, but I'm increasingly convinced that time must actually be an illusion. How else to explain this feeling of being lost in space? I suppose it's spacetime.

My moments to myself are bus rides. I'm reading Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything which, while being thoroughly flawed, is nonetheless fascinating. It's nice to get in touch with one's primordial ooze before being swept up in the business of another day. I'm working like mad, subbing for enough different people that I'm never quite sure where I am, then - switch - I'm myself again. A work related multiple personality disorder. Still working towards quitting the weekend gig, but it hasn't happened yet because it's just to tenuous since I don't know how soon the extra hours will dry up at school.

Madness.

But... the new computer is finally happy again - it died the day we started relying on it, but through nothing short of a kung-fu miracle was resurrected. And here's a new template. What can I say but it's an improvement.

Now I'd better get ready to head off to work and be somebody else again.

btw

2007-01-27T08:31:00.000-08:00

all the time I might have spent - even intended to spend - blogging lately has been devoted to the hunt for the perfect template, and I haven't even found one worth trying yet. Patience young grasshopper.

...to work.

cross yer fingers for me!

2007-01-19T10:13:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm the closest I've been yet to actually getting to quit the evil weekend customer service gig. I'm getting ready to head off to one of the biggest adult ed. centres in town to be interviewed to teach a Saturday English Upgrading course. The Saturday courses are pretty unpopular with the more experienced teacher set, but I do secretly love grammar, and I'm working Saturdays as it stands right now anyway. I'd so much rather spend them teaching!

The math of career upgrading is also pretty heart warming. When I work as an instructional assistant (which is my mainstay gig right now) I make twice my customer service job rate, and when I'm working s an instructor (say, for this Saturday course) I make twice that again. What does this all mean? Teaching this 4.5 hour course would pay better than putting in a 16 hour weekend at the yup(pie)shop. So wish me luck!

In response to the first question to land in my inbox: I think they are interviewing three of us, all currently at the same seniority level. Dun-dun-dun...

what's new is new again

2007-01-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

Seeking satisfaction, but why should I have to be consistent anyways? Indonesian web designers are cool - all the best templates I've been finding are very non-English.

Hoorah! Off to work as usual.

Doesn't it depress you that Belinda has become the image of a powerful Canadian woman?

the future

2007-01-10T11:34:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I couldn't resist the blog template named for a Leonard Cohen song, even if the animation is a titch cheesy. For now, anyways.

I received a really nice 2 disk Cohen compilation for Christmas from my sister and listening to it reminds me why he's a Canadian great. I never had much patience for the poetry of Atwood, and I think I'd agree to a flogging in order to be spared the works of Mr. Bowering, the current laureate, so rekindling my love for Canadian poetry is increasingly necessary. I fell in love with Leonard Cohen when I was 12 or so and have heard and read many of his poems over and over. I'm still occasionally haunted by lines of his read years ago. Perhaps its his uncanny ability to stay relevant and current rather than belonging to one time or place. The Future is one of his best examples of that kind of hauntingly current verse. Go have a listen.

Then again, I think I've been humming Susanne for at least a decade...

boards

2007-01-09T08:44:00.000-08:00

madly beginning the new school term now, and once again I'll have 3 jobs - just enough to keep me running in circles chasing my own tail. Can't think of anyone but the board though who hires two days before the job starts. I suppose they take their Christmas break pretty seriously.

This format will have to go, I just don't have time to deal with it yet. I'll find a new template somewhere that works with the new blogger and doesn't make me want to loose my lunch.

I usually blog while getting ready in the morning, when I have absolutely no free time. I suppose that's what happens to all those things I wanted to blog - they loose out in the mad dash.
Better go scramble into some clothes, I'm running out of time.

the more things change, the more they stay the same

2007-01-04T12:01:00.000-08:00

I've never yet found a blog template that I actually liked when I applied it, so I'm just hoping this one will somehow grow on me - and on you too - so that the comments will actually work again, and all sorts of other lovely usability issues will be resolved. I really think blogger should note that updating this often and forcing users to abandon their non-standard templates really is a drawback. The last time I had a template going I really liked, blogger puller some version of the same thing they've done now - 'upgrading,' which seems to result in an uglier blog and not much else.

at least it's not myspace (shudder).

at last

2006-12-31T07:55:00.000-08:00

buh-bye double-o six. That was more than long enough, just don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. If it wasn't ending, I might be. All I want for 007 is a year that's not like this one was. There are a limited number of catastrophic things/massive upheaval events that should occur in any year, and this year has well exceeded that. So here's to an 007 marked by sanity, tranquility, harmony, and most importantly, things not f**king up all the time.

On another note, my bloody comments aren't working thanks to the latest need to screw with everything at blogger, which is a damned shame if the fascinating comments I've been e-mailed are any indication. I'll get on fixing things - which will probably mean a new template - as soon as I can so that I can post the missing comments.

random

2006-12-22T07:01:00.000-08:00

What makes us human, I think, is our compassion. This is what compels us to care for other members of our species and what binds us within our social groups. Group membership has long been a key to human survival, since as humans we're pretty weak on our own but absolutely frightening en masse. Back in the pre-DVD era, belonging to a group could keep you fed, clothed, and generally alive, since a bunch of humans can take on woolly mammoths and sabre toothed tigers. Whereas one human would become lunch, several together can serve lunch!

So here's the question: what changed??
We live in the time of the myth of the liberal individual fighting for their own private realization of the American Dream. Power of the group? Not so much anymore. In fact, caring for others is viewed as a weakness if it extends beyond the realm of Xmas foodbank donations or attending a silent auction. Have we then created a society where compassion is a liability, something to be selected against in the great game o' evolution?

At least that would explain why people's compassion glands seem to be shrinking without my having to resort to cynically thinking that humans are just turning into nasty, selfish little f**kers.

assuming ascension, assumpiton, ascent

2006-12-17T06:36:00.000-08:00

The assumptions people make about other people have always driven me crazy, the only twist is right now it's the assumptions people make about me. Some of my new coworkers seem to occasionally get ideas like I'm a total moron who's only there because my mom's a teacher there (even though I have the same damned degree they do), or I'm so pathetically young that it's appropriate to use that special voice with me, you know, the one we all reserve for kindergardeners. I'm not usually an e-complainer, but I'm just shocked that five weeks in I still feel like such an outsider. So far, I've been offered a whole three hours a week for next semester. woo.

Off to serve the yuppies masses now...

a matter of taste

2006-12-14T09:37:00.000-08:00

In this post: Christmas cards, politics, gender equality - plus, it tastes like chocolate

I've been making my own Christmas cards this year, even though I haven't gotten it together to actually have them ready in time to send anywhere. Here are a couple of the images - they're, well, a matter of taste.

(watercolour pencils on card)

Christmas is one of the two times people become so cloyingly earnest it makes me vomit. The other time tends to be in politics, a la Barak Obama at all kinds of conferences lately preparing to begin his run for 08. However, earnesty in politicians is at least forgivable. It's not really their fault, it's just so easy to confuse with honesty, and we know how important looking honest is. What I'm really saying here people is c'mon, leave the earnesty to the pros and let's have ourselves a catty little xmas.

Argh, okay, I'll confess, that Obama one-liner wasn't nearly enough to scratch my US politics ranting itch. I'm once again transfixed by the unnatural glow of the US politics machine grinding itself back to life. As one magazine editor after another shows up with shovelfuls of fuel, the great bellows begin to wheeze again, and for politics junkies everywhere, the show begins anew. And this year, it seems set to be quite the show indeed.

As a Canadian, I tend to feel I can watch and comment on US politics with at least some sense of smug satisfaction and superiority; definition-by-comparison labels me the more progressive cousin to the north. This time around though, I'm worried. As the candidates que up, I'm beginning to notice an uncomfortable pattern. Let's see, Obama, Hil Clinton ---- WAIT RIGHT THERE! Seriously? 2 front runners, and one's a CHICK, and not only that, but an actual, bonafide member of the female persuasion, and the other is a guy named OBAMA (middle name Hussein) who is not only charming, but also BLACK! What, you may ask, in the hell is going on?
Why this almost looks like a relatively-progressive line up fitting for a 21st century multicultural democracy!

So what's the problem? That's supposed to be us, not them. We're the progressive multiculturalists. We're the overlords of equality and personal freedom-slash-responsibility. We've even had a woman leader before, but I'll be damned if we can actually elect one, something these new, wacky Americans just might pull off.

Now I'm not saying Hil's going to win, or even Obama for that matter, but if you compare the Dems new starting line to, say, the sad round of pasty male offerings at the last Lib con, you might actually get confused and think they're - GASP - more progressive than we are! As you all know, I'm not a Lib, never have been, and this has long been one of my reasons why. If they really want to be the big inclusive conscience clearing-house they claim to be, then they really need to get serious about a representative ballot.

Both women and members of ethnic minorities are shockingly underrepresented in this nation's halls of power, and despite a few seats scattered through the house, the "higher the fewer" still holds. Top 5 candidates for Lib leadership? All old white guys. Remember the last election? I think Uberpasty white dude pulled out a narrow victory over Mr. Culture-void McJowly, but I could easily have the candidates confused.

I suppose it's all a matter of taste, and old white guys in power have been the safe, stable norm for our lifetimes and beyond, but personally I think we need to do better, and in fact, I even think the health of our democracy depend upon us doing so, and now, before it's too late and we effectively disenfranchise too many. People don't vote if they don't feel represented in the process, and our turn out numbers are getting worse and worse with each passing election and each list of possible white guys vying to be our leader.

Fa la la la la la la la la...

decembering

2006-12-07T09:45:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it's 'that time of the year' already. I don't even know what it's all for, since few people seem to actually enjoy it all that much. Katja is talking about getting a tree, which would be the first time such a thing has happened in this apartment - I just can't be bothered.

It's not that I'm a big Christmas hater, I do even like Christmas sometimes, it just seems like there such a ridiculous amount that each of us is supposed to consume this year. I don't feel right unless I'm not doing my share - harder this year, too, for all the work parties, secret santas, and whatnot that I'm supposed to join in. I'm into all of the traditions that aren't focused on buying stuff, but unfortunately, those seem to get fewer and fewer all the time.

I say bring on the cooking, the games, the family, the crazy traditions. Bring on spiced cider, snowflakes, and skating. Just hold the shopping. If I had it my way, I'd spend the holiday skating on the lake my grandmother lives by and pretending the whole world was peaceful, even if just for a moment.

clearly

2006-11-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

I want to make one thing perfectly clear: I loathe the idea of Michael Ignatieff becoming our next PM. In him, we have yet another NeoCon fighting for his claim to the centre. Stateside he'd be red, and you'd think that'd be enough to scare away the membership of a party that has liberal as it's bloody name, but noooo. I'd just like his supporters to ask themselves: can we really win an election with a candidate who hasn't been a resident of the country for 36 years, or if we choose him, are we really just giving ourselves up to another wack of years of Harper? And by Harper I mean Mr. No-actual-policy-or-neck-can't-keep-his-officials-from-necking-with-foreign-visitors-
total-embarrassment-at-the-UN-if-only-the-whole-county-had-oil-Dr.-Evil-worst-sweater
-selector-ever.

Seriously, I'm tired of being embarrassed by my government. Don't choose another fop for your leader libs, because it's already gettin' foppy in here.

water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink

2006-11-20T15:05:00.000-08:00

So sick of this whole boil water advisory.
I suppose it has a different sort of effect on everyone - can't imagine, for example, trying to run a hospital with unusable water - but being a cashier at the only store in town that seems to be able to keep stocked with bottled water sure has it's downsides. I just finished working for 9 days in a row, and the last three were pretty much nothing but lifting crates of water, 25 or so litres at a time. Both this morning and yesterday morning I was woken up by my sore, sad, abused right shoulder moaning its grievances. Spent the morning boiling pot after pot of water for hours so I'd have enough to do dishes.

current project: getting my certification at last

i need a drink.

got a job

2006-11-10T16:25:00.000-08:00

starting next week, I'll be working in adult ed. 4 days a week, at 2 different centres. it's only a temporary contract until christmas, but it's enough to make me an internal applicant when all of the courses restart next semester and bump me up one of those ever important seniority levels.

5 years tuition at UBC: thousands
books for two degrees: don't ask
actually working in your chosen field: priceless

*glee*

november is like nightime

2006-11-05T06:57:00.000-08:00

it's still dark out and I'm on my way to make sure someone's there to feed the yups when they crawl out of their caves in search of lattes and kamut muffins. the first rays of sun are only beginning to hit the cloud-backs outside my window, and are painting them an ominous sort of purple. it's been a weird week. still sick, or sick again, so at least bad news rolls off my back like water off a duck -- you see? I'm too tired to notice.

eight days a week

2006-10-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm in the midst of working an eight day stretch right now, between two different jobs. If I take subbing calls next week, this could easily stretch out to 10 or 12 days, except that I think I might need a day off sometime. This is madness, but on the other hand, I'm delighted to actually be working for the school board now. It's going to start being all cold, rainy, and November-y soon anyways -- a good time, if you ask me, to bury yourself in work and hide till spring time. I just have to survive that long...

I got a letter inviting me to the Faculty of Education Student Awards Reception last night, because of the scholarship I received. Ma belle soeur thought it was hilarious. It's the night before my grad and even I don't think I can handle that much pomp and circumstance in a single 24 hour period.

I'm going to work now, again.

faithless leading the hopeless

2006-10-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

(don't bother)
you'd think after all of this that i'd at least have something to say...

i remember a time when i was scathing and seething because things were wrong and could be better.
i remember a time when my priorities were one of two things: frivolous or world-saving.
i remember a time when it felt important to range, rage against the dying of the light.

sometimes, these things are futile. ideologues just stay that way and most people balk at the notion that they can be held responsible for the entirety of their actions. it's a system out there, a big hairy institution, so what can little old me do? -- a question that dismisses individual solutions like reducing consumption or voting with your principles and wallet intact. only, i think that's the kind of solution i believe in now because we're so walled in behind our individual rights that we've lost sight of individual responsibilities and can't even say anymore that moral values of selfishness and exploitation are wrong. we're so into this 'everyone has the right to their own beliefs' BS that we can't even bring ourselves to condemn the things we really, really ought to condemn. welcome to the era of the liberal individual destroying the world, one fat-imbued, slave-laboured, customer-serviced, petroleum by-product produced bite at a time because it's their god damned right!

i don't know how most people sleep at night. i don't know why it seems so hard to admit that the universe doesn't orbit around us, insisting instead on a pre-copernican order where all things centre on the self and thus all others, further from the self, are lower forms and thus less worthy of compassion.

ethics of the double-Os: it's all grey matters now.

without you, no me. without us, no we. without rights, no responsibility.

but we have rights. we gorge ourselves at the rights buffet, without keeping up our end of the bargain. dine 'n dash, our moral compass for the future.

(you were warned)

grad redux

2006-10-17T09:26:00.000-07:00

Another degree, another stage-walking at the Chan Centre. This year, it's at 1:30 pm on Thursday, November 23rd. I'm still working out the whole whether or not to bother thing, but it mostly depends whether the people who made it happen decide they want some pomp and circumstance.
...More goofy robes. The whole thing is so medieval.

something else is needed

2006-10-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

(this is now a repost. I didn't want it gone forever, but the spam comments had gotten out of hand.)

funny isn't it, how labour day now seems to have nothing whatsoever to do with labour. I think it's part of a bigger *don't talk about labour* policy that has come from our closeting of class. We can talk about how evil all kinds of discrimination and intolerance are, but the poor are still, in many people's minds, supposed to pull themselves up by their boot straps. This, of course, is utterly ridiculous, since on some level all of the other problems we identify boil down to class.

We say it's so sad that single mothers are so likely to live in poverty - proof of discrimination against women - and the same for many ethnic groups - proof of racism. These people actually all belong to the same group, one that has alarmingly high probability of living in poverty - POOR PEOPLE. We just don't talk about it that way any more.

And what, you might be thinking, does any of this have to do with labour day? Labour day is now "back to school day" which could be a pertinent time to pay attention to the proportion of students without laptops, let alone lunches. It could be a time to consider whether we really still allow universal access to post secondary education. It could even be a time *gasp* to think about labour.

When we think of the word labour, it's not to the white collar professions that our minds go, but to the dirtier, harder, and on a far more basic level, essential tasks. Building infrastructure and homes. Manufacturing. Driving. So on. A whole lot of labour, and in those cases, a whole lot of unions to protect the labour. What about the jobs that our really essential to our 21st century lives though? Service jobs. Customer service. Food service. The terrain of exploited youth and minority groups aplenty. What labour movement there might have been has now been crushed by the service industry.

At the very least, look twice at the person who scans your pens through the till or serves your ikea lunch. It was supposed to be their day, but we don't talk about labour or class any more. Our discourse of consumption has made them invisible and labour day is now another day to buy stuff. Lots of it.

holy hot bed batman

2006-10-11T11:04:00.000-07:00

Well well. I don't think I could have generated as much controversy as I did with the post awhile back about my pal Dov if I'd actually been trying. I sure got a lot of nasty e-mails, and on the whole was alarmed by how many people seem to use vice magazine as their bible.

One point that came up a lot was the whole "but other people are worse" line, which is of course cute, because it has the obvious retort "but other companies didn't make their millions of CLAIMING to be good." Clearly a company that claims to have ethics and values that guide their business should be held to a higher standard.

A number of people were also upset and claimed I was "telling peeple" [sic] what to do. Alas, no, I did not do this. Although I certainly wish I could control much of the population, the reality of that would be frustrating and futile. All I do is make my decisions. You make yours. This comment clearly stems from my condemnation of an action (giving more $$ to the company currently at issue), however an inability to differentiate condemnation from control simply suggests that perhaps a great number of us could have used a logic and argumentation class somewhere along the way.

Oh dear! My catty tone seems to have returned too. Wonder who I'll offend now. Tis a field of landmines after all - don't say I didn't warn you. If you want to believe everything I say is intended dead-pan literally, then don't read this next line where I'm going to suggest that Stephen Harper (yes, you should have stopped reading by now) should be tied to the side of a barn and horse whipped.

As much as I do enjoy indulging people (especially when they're being self-righteous) I will now be putting this issue to bed. I will not answer further e-mails on the topic (unless you actually manage a unique argument, but that hasn't happened for weeks, so don't hold your breath) nor will I be replying to further messages posted hear.

My last word on the topic is this: relative silence doesn't mean nothing's going on. For all those who claimed this was hearsay or that there was too little information, let's remember that Dov paid all of the women he raped (allegedly) and abused (repeatedly) to keep their mouths shut. He bought their silence wholesale and tried to repackage it and sell it back to us. I'm just sad so many were willing to buy.

This has already been given far too much airtime. It ends here.

See? Over! This line is about how the Harper govt's budget, with it's billion dollar cuts in a year of many billions of surplus, makes me queasier than a US spinach consumer riding a tiltawhirl.

Hey Canada, have you figured out yet that we can't all be Alberta? (and thank dog for that!)

2006-10-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

so I guess the pilgrims have now hit plymouth rock. I advise running.

It's a good thing my family does pleasant things, becuase the nature of this 'holiday' make me queasy.

/me is losing her leaves

2006-09-26T10:52:00.000-07:00

Top ten list:

What's with this constant idea that we should *deal* with everything? Can we just move on?
Canada's military should not have an aggressive mandate in Afghanistan. Otherwise, we become the imperialists (like now). (Groan). And we should be over that shit by now.
Fall can be so beautiful.
The everyday machinery of life is grinding me into salisbury steak, and an army of ants is about to tear me apart and render me meaningless.
Peter MacKay is our Minister of Foreign Affairs. Whawhawhat?? He couldn't even keep Belinda loyal, how can we trust him with our allies?
Since bloody when does Canada have allies and enemies? Further evidence of how war on intangibles bleeds over into a militarization of society at large, and every day life.
The company who owns the company I work for paid for product placement in an SUV ad. I saw it on TV and wanted to cry. Capitalism is making a mockery of the very notion of ethics.
There's a fly in my lemonade. No really, it just landed there, seconds ago.
My lemonade is now a metaphor for life.
I'm avoiding answering the questions everyone's been asking, so please consider relenting.
I'm becoming the kind of girl who writes 11-item top ten lists.

nada

2006-09-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a day off in a full week now, and nothing exciting has really been going on. It's like when the clouds rolled in, my life followed suit and degenerated into something hopelessly mundane. Work, sleep. Work, sleep. Bus, bus, bus.

On the horizon: word on the street and the writer's festival. Tis the season for lit.

Must go now, and separate yuppies from their $$.

it always seems like something

2006-09-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

but it's actually always the same thing. different shapes. hidden shadows. lines on the page, writing on the wall. does it matter what we think we're doing? what path we think we follow? criss crossing lines that lead to the same place anyway. it's an intangible mystery till we get there - and there was actually here all along. like the tune to a forgotten song, or the thing we should have said, just beyond the reach of mind or articulation. somewhere buried in the circuitry we can't access.

i can't bring myself to believe in fate, but it's not up to me. that's all.

shhhh

2006-09-02T10:56:00.000-07:00

*PRETEND IT'S STILL SUMMER*

see you at the beach

one more thing

2006-08-23T18:12:00.000-07:00

Something's been bugging me lately (no surprise) and one of the reasons it's been eating away at me so effectively is because I think it's something that went under discussed and far too few people are aware of.

I hate american apparel. Why? Because how sad is it that this big 'uber-ethical' clothing company is so unethical I can't bring myself to shop there? My problem with them is the way the owner, Dov Charney, sexually harasses and intimidates his employees. I've read a number of interview with him, as well as testimony from women who have worked for him and frankly, he disgusts me. He's know for displaying pornography in his office, masturbating in front of people in his office and on the factory floor, and generally running around with his genitals on display in a show of domination and aggression aimed at his mostly female staff. Some defenders argue that he is just sexually liberated, but the accounts I have read suggest that it is more about shame and intimidation, and I really thought we were passed the era where it was acceptable for a male boss to do such things. In essence, despite not using sweatshop labour, he still exploits his staff, and in a way that is not all that much less disturbing. I won't shop there.

Read some corroboration. He's also anti union.

blip

2006-08-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

Off to Washington state for the weekend -- eww!! Border crossings. I hate dealing with any kind of law that ain't my own.

I think I might travel a lot more if I could stay under Canadian jurisdiction wherever I went. See, to my mind, our laws up here are generally reasonable and so are those who enforce them (I did say generally). Why? Or more importantly, how's that different? I don't think Canadian cops figure that it is up to them to maintain the moral sanctimoniousness of the community, and that's a good thing. I'd really rather not have police running around worrying about our family values or whatever bullshit term's being used now. Canadian cops are officers of the peace, and I think that pattern holds for most Canadian law.

On the other hand, from the experiences I've had and the law officers I've met elsewhere, especially state side, this pattern does not hold elsewhere. How a town's youth are behaving? Cop problem. Marginalizing and/or scapegoating those with alternative lifestyles? Cop problem. Upholding moral majority? Cop problem.

Sigh. But it's still US here I come.

*please don't police my values*

may I recommend...

2006-08-20T10:37:00.000-07:00

The Rio Theatre on East Broadway at Commercial. Better screen and sound than the Van East (cleaner facilities too), huge cushy seats with enough leg room to satisfy even all 6 and a half feet of C, and no ads. I've always hated huge nasty chain theatres (and you should too) so it's great to have another other option - not that I don't have a special place in my heart for the Van East, but sometimes, between the screen quality and the selection issue... At any rate, Rio it is. The owner is a cool guy too, who opened for World Cup and is hoping to develop the Rio into an 'event' (aka party) theatre, hence they had the big costume opening for Snakes on a Plane.

I know, I know, plug plug plug, it's just a great local business I don't want to loose.

hola roomie

2006-08-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

today my sister is moving in. yesterday we painted her new room and remembered how silly we can be. no one should have to be lonely when they first move out.

in pics: things with my name

head in sand

2006-08-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

i will graduate in november this time, in the icy drizzle not the scorched blossoms of may like last year. if i go for the ceremony, they will add a light blue stripe to the black robe with blue stripe i earned last year only since this whole monk garb symbolism is lost on me, i can't make myself get excited. right now, i feel the build up to no closure and another weird shift underway but i still think it's more like i'm being dragged behind while my life is leading me.

around and around and around she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.

members of my family can't stop dreaming up new careers for me either - my grandma says law school (groan) and my mom predicted journalism the other day (hmm, does that include my plans to kidnap George Stroumboulopoulos? Oh yes, his show willl be mine). will i ever be able to hold still? why can't we all just agree on this career i'm headed into - it looks great to me. yet i suppose i understand, because i am always spinning to something new.

these hot days is the mad blood stirring

2006-08-06T17:19:00.000-07:00

I must be starting to go crazy by now. It's too hot in this apartment to even think straight and I'm in front of the computer, trying to compile a unit plan on Romeo and Juliet. 6th of August, back to school ads have already started blaring across the TV any evening I flip it on seeking distraction, and I haven't even finished school yet. The idea of 'back' is ludicrous.

I just want to be swimming. I've been making it to Jericho to throw myself in the ocean at least about once a week, which isn't all that bad, but it's hard to really enjoy anything when yet another 'term project' is always looming. Instead of swimming until I get tired, it's trying to make sure I don't get to tired, because you guessed it, there's still work to do. I feel like just jumping in and swimming until I dissolve into calcareous ooze and become just another layer of the ocean floor. I feel like dueling with starfish.

I can write an infinite number of paragraphs staring with 'I,' which is the first sign of cabin fever.

basic arithmetic (or, sometimes the only response is stickmen)

2006-07-29T09:41:00.000-07:00

I have been so frustrated (disgusted) at the coverage I've been seeing and reading of the current Israel-Lebanon 'unwar.' I know the number of Israeli citizens 'slaughtered by terrorists' better than I know my own heartrate thanks to perpetual news flogging of that information, but I can barely even find two sources that agree on the number of Lebanese civilians lost thus far. I know we're all soft and wet for victims of 'terrorism' right now, but when did we stop caring entirely about collateral damage?

This conflict- the latest in a seemingly long line of 'unwars' (conflicts, disputes, actions, football matches - whatever you want to call them, if you're shooting at people in the street, using tanks and missiles, it's pretty much a war) is so grossly disproportionate. While human suffering and death is always sad (just you wait and see how much every man's death diminishes us...), I can't help but notice that virtually all of the Israelis killed so far have been soldiers, aka fair game in the middle of a conflict. On the other hand, all of the Lebanese civilians killed have been - wait for it - CIVILIANS!! You know, those people whom it's against international law to target deliberately, those people not involved in the conflict and not posing a danger to anyone.

I know full well that the Lebanese government isn't a bunch of lovely, koombaya-singing internationalists whose greatest concern is global serenity. In fact, I even suspect that they have problems with corruption, intimidation, and major armed groups influencing government. Holy shit! That sounds like a freakish anomaly - or, most of the world. It's a bad thing, this helping people who wish others harm hide out and conduct operations, but when did it become acceptable to bomb the shit out of a nation's civilian population in order to try to end it? Are we really buying the myth that the population of Lebanon is like
"Hey-ya Hezbollah, oh how we love you all-a, please keep manipulating our government-a and making us scared to let our kids play outside-a. Hey-ya Hezbollah, we don't really need any democracy-a, more guns and missiles, that's what our region needs-aya!"
and therefore somehow culpable in this whole mess?? The thing is, what makes terrorism so insidiously sinister is their targeting of civilians. Hmmm.

So do the math. human=human. israeli human=lebanese human=american human=french human=roughly a dolphin (kidding, okay)=nmibian human=kiwi human=0.5 canadian human (okay, kidding again). You get the point. white israeli jew=brown lebanese arab. The killing of both is unacceptable. (Unless one's a soldier and the other's a civilian. That's just how international law works).

times they are a changin'

2006-07-18T18:08:00.000-07:00

summer time and the living is easy... that's how it's supposed to go, right?
It seems like this summer had something else in mind though, and not just for me, but for an alarming number of people around the world. I can't flick on the tv or pick up a paper these days without a chill running down my spine as I think about the recent violence in Lebanon. In the back of my mind are all of the sections from Clinton's "My Life," which I finished a few weeks back, where he writes about all of the efforts he was involved in to build peace in that region. What is perhaps the most haunting is knowing how close they've come sometimes - that's what makes me the saddest, to think about how far we are now from where we've been. But I still can't see the struggle for peace as futile.

Here in Vancouver, the city feels a bit like a pot near its boiling point. Between debates over allowing Walmart to open in our city, new transit plans, development and the environment (think Eagle Ridge), and the covert beginnings of downtown gentrification and dislocation in preparation for the Olympics, we seem to be involved in a fundamentally lager ideological discussion over visions for the post-modern city and the role of family, community, and government. Yet we aren't engaging this debate on that higher level; instead, we dwell on the details and try to dismantle the real issues at stake detail by detail in a way that fundamentally looks like no decisions and muddied outcomes. So the tensions rise.

These are only two examples. Looking at the "Western government" that currently sits uncomfortably in Ottawa provides an easy third. All of these tensions seem to rise from our reluctance to genuinely engage in a full-fledged discussion about our visions for the world and for our communities. Personally, I feel like my life right now is dominated by differing vision of post-secondary education - between public and class-oriented notions of access. I don't know what flag of optimism I can wave - these debates are as serious as the issues they cover and represent. They are hard issues to face, and even harder to resolve. It's easy to see why we avoid them. Can we all reconcile our visions for tomorrow?

I have no idea.

news?

2006-07-09T10:36:00.000-07:00

I'm headed to house sit at my sister's for a week, so if you need to get in touch, drop an e-mail and I'll give you the # there.

Otherwise, the endless cycle of school and life keeps turning. With classes starting at 8 am now (meaning I have to be up by 20 to 6) I feel like I'm perpetually in search of sleep and everything else happens in a fog.

We're all still holding our breath, waitin gfor the Vancouver School Board to begin the round of hiring that was supposed to happen last month. The waiting game. We hoped that the resolution of the teacher's contract might help spur hiring, but as yet - nada. At least it's everyone I know, not just me.

The final world cup game is about to start, and living where I do, I expect to hear nothing but car and air horns for the next 7 or 8 hours.

play safe.

happy belated birthday america

2006-07-05T15:05:00.000-07:00

i'm writing to you a day late america because i think it might actually do you some good to think that people forget about you every now and then. see, your ego can be a titch much to take sometimes. that's okay though, since i see a very humbling future coming your way. i won't sit and try to list all of the ways you've erred, or crimes you've committed against your own citizenry this year, since what i know, everyone knows, and yet it represents very little. what with your massive corporate media oligarchy controlling pretty much all information dissemination, alongside your own tendencies towards secrecy, you know far better what crimes you have committed than i do. i will not regale you with tales of your sins, anecdotes about your idiotic leader, or cautionary notes about domination by corporate interests. instead, here's my message to you: you need not go gently into that good night.

the sun always sets, and when it comes to the sun (son) of empire, we know that exceeding your reach tends to bring things to a rather hasty (at least as far as history is concerned) end. the sun finally set on the british empire for the same reason it set for the romans - both strayed too far, too frequently, from home. this is a lesson that you, with one hand in afghanistan, and another in iraq, might want to consider before reaching for iran. but it's not too late. the romans and the british endured remarkably different fates. the romans were pretty much crushed outright by domestic conflict and barbarians at the gates. the brits, on the other hand, had some sense of when they had gone to far, and pulled back in time to watch the sunset of empire turn into an everlasting (okay, they're hoping...) evening of enduring importance. they remain the spectre of a giant, and so could you, but not if you keep reaching. not if you go gently into that good night.

the choice you face as you move forward into this new year of your life america, is essentially imperialism or democracy, but be wary. as you play your imperialist games abroad, all is not well on the home front. in a democracy, the people have to know more than their masters would want them to if they are to make any reasonably intelligent decisions. democracy depends on the huddled masses being able to make discerning decisions, a capacity that is increasingly endangered by the consolidation of media motivated by the same corporate engines that even now drive your nation forward. but you do have a choice america. you can choose to not go gently into that good night, but it will require that your people rise up and rage, rage against the dying of the light.

it amuses me

2006-07-03T10:56:00.000-07:00

We are the Canadian Borg.
Resistance would be impolite.
Please wait to be assimilated.
Pour l'assimilation en francais,
Veuillez appuyer le "2".
- Found on some random blog where it was cited as having been lifted from "somewhere on the web"

LOL
Please wait to be assimilated - isn't that pretty much what we've said to everyone who arrived on our soil for the past 150 or so years? and the continent's original inhabitants? we're SO f**cking PC.

don't worry, as the 4th approaches I'm scrambling to come up with something appropriately sardonic. in the mean time, mexico: more like the US than we think?
well, they DO have two people declaring presidential victory...
(here's hoping this ends up as a turn for the Chavez)

p.s. I think I've decided that anyone who buys a brand new vehicle that's not a hybrid has no soul. Don't you think?