Today is Remembrance Day in Canada, a day to remember and honor the men and women who serve this country and who protect it regardless of the risk involved. It's a day that some people take to heart, and to others is just a day off of work (if they're even that lucky). To me it's a day that I always seem to end up in tears. Tears of pride? Tears of sorrow? I can't quite seem to pinpoint the exact cause, but as soon as I hear those notes of the Last Post I can feel them well up.
My family always lived near military bases while I was growing up, but we didn't really have any actual affiliation with the military. My grandfather was once in the navy but died when I was rather young and I don't recall him telling us any stories of what it was like. My knowledge of the military and military life mostly came from the fact that many of my friends had one or more parents who were actively serving. I remember hearing about them coming and going on missions but never really grasped exactly what risks they were taking. As I grew older, all three of my boyfriends in my high-school years had fathers in the military. It was sometime during this stretch that I really started to grasp the level of sacrifice that they were making. These fathers would sometimes get to spend only small amounts of time at home, sometimes would even have to leave without really being able to give the full details on where they were deployed to. I wondered where the wives got their strength, kissing their husbands goodbye and continuing with their lives like "normal", while I am sure they were constantly waiting for that next phonecall or communication to tell them that their husband was safe.
One other thing I started to see was how these men were looked up to. Of those three boyfriends I had, two of them went on to join the military themselves. Both have served time in Afghanistan, and one was even awarded the Medal of Military Valour (the third-highest award for valour in Canada). It is through my continued friendship with these men that I have come to understand the actual sacrifice that they make. Sacrifice goes so much further than whether or not they lose their life while serving our country. It is the hours and days that they spend apart from their loved ones. The missed birthdays and anniversaries, missed first steps and words, missed band concerts and sporting events. Sacrifice is knowing that while you're away your family grows up without you and that when you return you may have grown in different directions. Sacrifice is that you may never sleep peacefully again, never be able to concentrate properly on mundane tasks, might never be able to feel "normal" again. Sacrifice is doing and risking all of this to not necessarily even be protecting your own country, but the people of a different country who are less fortunate.
As much as we as a country like to pretend that we honor these soldiers and the sacrifices they make, the truth is that I am left wondering how much we truly do. Emotional and physical scars remain far after the soldier has returned home. Treatment of PTSD is often hard to obtain. Many soldiers still suffer in silence, turning instead to drugs and alcohol. The father of a friend recently had to fight for the funding of his treatment of cancer that he developed as a direct result of his service in the military. We hold ONE DAY of services a year to honor these people, and still often there are people that aren't willing to even spend that small amount of time to pay their respects. How many people don't take part in the ceremonies because it's cold, or it's long and "boring", or because they'd just rather sleep in. How many of us take for granted how comfortable and unrestricted our lives are, because these soldiers are willing to fight to protect our freedoms for us?
We are so lucky to live in a country where we are free. We have the right to vote for a government that won't be filled with tyranny. We have the right to say what we think, go where we want to go, do what we want to do. With very few exceptions, we are safe to walk our streets without the fear of being beaten. We live in a country where we strive for equality and acceptance regardless of religion, race, or sexuality. We have all of this and yet because we have it every day, and have likely known nothing else, we take it for granted. Will it take us losing these freedoms to realize just how important they are?
I watched the ceremonies on TV this year, the whole time feeling guilty that I didn't actually take the time to get up early, bundle up and go to the outdoor ceremony this year. When I heard that trumpet play the last post my eyes once again welled up. In those two minutes of silence my head was filled with thanks for the people that every day do the things that I am far too cowardly to do myself. I hope that all of you reading took time to do the same. If you didn't, I encourage you to do it now. All I am asking are for those two minutes, but perhaps you can do more. Maybe two hours? Two days? Maybe, just maybe, you can be thankful for them every day. Maybe every day should be one where we stop and remember.
Friday 11 November 2011
Tuesday 8 November 2011
I'm the Best Parent in the World
You know what's great about not having children? In my head, I am the best parent in the world. My husband and I have these kind of conversations all the time, well, at least commonly after we've been in the presence of somebody else's children. Basically, our theoretical children would be perfect angels, not the type that are screaming during dinner, throwing sand at the park, or running up and down the isles during a wedding. This of course, brought on by our superior parenting skills.
Ok, so obviously I know realistically this will probably NEVER happen. Our children will likely scream with the best of them, say naughty words, and they probably are going to pick their nose at your dinner table if you invite us over. One day, when we actually do have kids, you can point all of this out to me and say "haha, look who fails at parenting the model children". I get it. For now, however, I am free to judge all I want, and judge I will.
My single biggest complaint with parents today is this: Stop making them grow up so fast and let them just be kids! This rant is mostly sparked from my recent experience with this past Halloween. As a kid, I loved Halloween. It was a time to dress up as whatever I wanted, play goofy games at parties, hang out with my friends, and gain some candy out of it. So, as an adult, I feel the need to try to make Halloween just as much fun for kids today as it was for me when I was growing up. And one of the things that made it so much fun going trick-or-treating was that all the houses were done up with decorations, and then there were a few really spooky ones that were always good for a scare. So this year (and the previous years to a somewhat lesser extent), we aimed to be that house. We're talking spider webs, red lightbulbs, strobelight, even a smoke machine. Husband was popping out of the garage with a fake chainsaw to really give the kids a scare. We were pumped. Then we waited. And waited. Finally, our first two kids came, and they thought everything was awesome. I am bursting with pride! After that, kids were kind of into it, but basically just were going through the motions of coming up to the door. I don't even know if I heard a single "trick-or-treat!" What happened to the fun of Halloween? Is it because parents today are to willing to give candy whenever the kids want it? We only had I think 17 kids all night, and most of those seemed bored. My other thought was that about 3 days earlier while driving home, my husband and I saw multiple kids in costume with their parents, trudging into a school for what I assume was one of those "safe" Halloween parties. You know, kind of like trick-or-treating at the mall. There's no razorblades in the candy, no murderers hiding around the corner waiting to snatch your children away. I am really hoping (but fearful) that the reason for this decline of interest isn't because the parents are too scared of letting their kids run door to door.
I get it, the murderers and the crazy people exist. But I refuse to believe that they exist in greater numbers than when you or I were little. When I was growing up, we checked all of our candy as soon as we got home, and anything that looked partially unwrapped or otherwise sketchy we threw out. But we NEVER found a razor blade, and we NEVER got approached by sketchy people while we were out collecting our goods. Even if we were, there were always plenty of houses we could run to, because EVERY house had its light on, and there were plenty of parents taking their young kids door to door anyway that would be more than willing to step in to protect us. So why are we so scared today? The only thing I can come up with is that parents just get these unfounded fears that these things are going to happen, and then spark the fear in other parents, and then next thing you know little Billy can't go trick-or-treating because the world is a scary place and boogeymen are going to come out and get him. People start shutting off their lights and don't give out candy anymore. Less kids with their parents are on the streets. And next thing you know, it's not safe for kids to be running around on their own anymore, because there's no longer those safe places to turn to if there ever was a situation where they needed it.
Ok, so I may be over-reacting a little bit, and I am also getting off-topic. I should point out that 1 street down from me apparently got lots of kids, so maybe even Halloween is alive and well. But my point is that this trend seems to be stretching well beyond Halloween. Parents seem to be way more fearful today than they were back when I was being raised. They're afraid of letting them in the backyard alone because what if someone snatches them. They're afraid of letting them crawl around on the monkeybars if there's gravel underneath because what if they skin a knee? They're afraid of letting them eat a hotdog because what about all of the preservatives?? (I recently tried all-natural hotdogs, and they taste about the same actually, but I'm still resentful that I have to eat them). And oh the germs, won't someone grab the hand sanitizer because what about all of the germs out there?!? With all of this additional parental anxiety that never seemed to exist when we were younger, is it any surprise that "our" children seem to be becoming more and more anxious? There are kids these days that are ending up on anti-anxiety medications at ages where their biggest worry should be if little Tommy is going to pull their hair again or if not-so-little Susan has a crush on them.
I simply think maybe kids are just being asked to grow up too fast in general. "We" are dressing them to look like us at a younger age, with designer clothes and a trendy look, when they're at an age where they should be content to just pick out any t-shirt and jeans to run around in. Kids are wearing makeup and high-heels before they even know what the periodic table is. "We" are pushing them to learn faster (Baby Einstein?), work younger (12 year-olds with a job, really?), and make adult decisions at a far younger age than ever before. Is it any wonder that they take that as meaning at 15 and 16 they're an adult? Is there any wonder why they're having sex at 12 (I shudder at that thought!), drinking at 14, and wanting to move out at 16? Is it any wonder why they don't want to do anything as "babyish" as trick-or-treating? Why, when they act like kids, should they get teased by their peers?
I hope my kids still want to go trick-or-treating at 14. I hope at 12 they want to spend their time running around outside with their friends rather than earning money at a job. I hope at 8 they want to pick out the most ridiculous, mismatched outfits they can find. Every October 31st I hope we have the most spooky house on the block, the most decked-out house at Christmas and the most hidden eggs at Easter. I hope they climb as high as they can on those monkeybars, play in the dirt to their heart's content, and eat hotdogs until their bellies are full. I hope all of this because I hope most of all that when our kids become adults they can look back at their childhood and know that they had the chance to enjoy it and just be a kid.
Because, let's face it, once you become an adult you really miss those days of not having to worry about any of the big stuff.
Ok, so obviously I know realistically this will probably NEVER happen. Our children will likely scream with the best of them, say naughty words, and they probably are going to pick their nose at your dinner table if you invite us over. One day, when we actually do have kids, you can point all of this out to me and say "haha, look who fails at parenting the model children". I get it. For now, however, I am free to judge all I want, and judge I will.
My single biggest complaint with parents today is this: Stop making them grow up so fast and let them just be kids! This rant is mostly sparked from my recent experience with this past Halloween. As a kid, I loved Halloween. It was a time to dress up as whatever I wanted, play goofy games at parties, hang out with my friends, and gain some candy out of it. So, as an adult, I feel the need to try to make Halloween just as much fun for kids today as it was for me when I was growing up. And one of the things that made it so much fun going trick-or-treating was that all the houses were done up with decorations, and then there were a few really spooky ones that were always good for a scare. So this year (and the previous years to a somewhat lesser extent), we aimed to be that house. We're talking spider webs, red lightbulbs, strobelight, even a smoke machine. Husband was popping out of the garage with a fake chainsaw to really give the kids a scare. We were pumped. Then we waited. And waited. Finally, our first two kids came, and they thought everything was awesome. I am bursting with pride! After that, kids were kind of into it, but basically just were going through the motions of coming up to the door. I don't even know if I heard a single "trick-or-treat!" What happened to the fun of Halloween? Is it because parents today are to willing to give candy whenever the kids want it? We only had I think 17 kids all night, and most of those seemed bored. My other thought was that about 3 days earlier while driving home, my husband and I saw multiple kids in costume with their parents, trudging into a school for what I assume was one of those "safe" Halloween parties. You know, kind of like trick-or-treating at the mall. There's no razorblades in the candy, no murderers hiding around the corner waiting to snatch your children away. I am really hoping (but fearful) that the reason for this decline of interest isn't because the parents are too scared of letting their kids run door to door.
I get it, the murderers and the crazy people exist. But I refuse to believe that they exist in greater numbers than when you or I were little. When I was growing up, we checked all of our candy as soon as we got home, and anything that looked partially unwrapped or otherwise sketchy we threw out. But we NEVER found a razor blade, and we NEVER got approached by sketchy people while we were out collecting our goods. Even if we were, there were always plenty of houses we could run to, because EVERY house had its light on, and there were plenty of parents taking their young kids door to door anyway that would be more than willing to step in to protect us. So why are we so scared today? The only thing I can come up with is that parents just get these unfounded fears that these things are going to happen, and then spark the fear in other parents, and then next thing you know little Billy can't go trick-or-treating because the world is a scary place and boogeymen are going to come out and get him. People start shutting off their lights and don't give out candy anymore. Less kids with their parents are on the streets. And next thing you know, it's not safe for kids to be running around on their own anymore, because there's no longer those safe places to turn to if there ever was a situation where they needed it.
Ok, so I may be over-reacting a little bit, and I am also getting off-topic. I should point out that 1 street down from me apparently got lots of kids, so maybe even Halloween is alive and well. But my point is that this trend seems to be stretching well beyond Halloween. Parents seem to be way more fearful today than they were back when I was being raised. They're afraid of letting them in the backyard alone because what if someone snatches them. They're afraid of letting them crawl around on the monkeybars if there's gravel underneath because what if they skin a knee? They're afraid of letting them eat a hotdog because what about all of the preservatives?? (I recently tried all-natural hotdogs, and they taste about the same actually, but I'm still resentful that I have to eat them). And oh the germs, won't someone grab the hand sanitizer because what about all of the germs out there?!? With all of this additional parental anxiety that never seemed to exist when we were younger, is it any surprise that "our" children seem to be becoming more and more anxious? There are kids these days that are ending up on anti-anxiety medications at ages where their biggest worry should be if little Tommy is going to pull their hair again or if not-so-little Susan has a crush on them.
I simply think maybe kids are just being asked to grow up too fast in general. "We" are dressing them to look like us at a younger age, with designer clothes and a trendy look, when they're at an age where they should be content to just pick out any t-shirt and jeans to run around in. Kids are wearing makeup and high-heels before they even know what the periodic table is. "We" are pushing them to learn faster (Baby Einstein?), work younger (12 year-olds with a job, really?), and make adult decisions at a far younger age than ever before. Is it any wonder that they take that as meaning at 15 and 16 they're an adult? Is there any wonder why they're having sex at 12 (I shudder at that thought!), drinking at 14, and wanting to move out at 16? Is it any wonder why they don't want to do anything as "babyish" as trick-or-treating? Why, when they act like kids, should they get teased by their peers?
I hope my kids still want to go trick-or-treating at 14. I hope at 12 they want to spend their time running around outside with their friends rather than earning money at a job. I hope at 8 they want to pick out the most ridiculous, mismatched outfits they can find. Every October 31st I hope we have the most spooky house on the block, the most decked-out house at Christmas and the most hidden eggs at Easter. I hope they climb as high as they can on those monkeybars, play in the dirt to their heart's content, and eat hotdogs until their bellies are full. I hope all of this because I hope most of all that when our kids become adults they can look back at their childhood and know that they had the chance to enjoy it and just be a kid.
Because, let's face it, once you become an adult you really miss those days of not having to worry about any of the big stuff.
Wednesday 19 October 2011
Why Everyone Should Jump Out of a Plane... Once.
I live a pretty "safe" life. I will plan a trip out to the last detail to ensure nothing goes wrong, I will write an extensive list when packing for camping to ensure I don't forget anything that I even have the slightest chance of needing, and I always lock the door when I'm home alone (even though we live in a city where crime is practically non-existent). Playing life on the safe side has worked out pretty well for me. I'm financially secure and own my own home, I've never had a broken bone or been in a car accident, and although I've had lots of "wins" in my life I've been blessed with very few losses.
I guess another side to this is that I like to control a situation to ensure that I feel "safe". My husband will be the first to tell you that I am a nervous passenger in the car because I worry that the driver is going to crash us into the car in front of us. I'm not a big fan of abrupt change because that leaves me open to the unknown, and the unknown scares me because I am not prepared for it. Yes, I am realizing more and more that I am a control freak who hates taking risks. So what do you do about it? You strap yourself onto a big burly man who is intent to jump out of a plane with you along for the ride. Of course.
I never expected to do it. I'm one of those people that has nightmares of falling. The kind of person that stays a long way away from the cliff's edge in case the earth crumbles away under my feet. So a little over a year ago, when some friends and my husband were talking about going skydiving, I laughed.The crazy fools. Then a discount coupon came out for tandem skydiving, and for some reason I let peer pressure take over and I bought one. Then came the actual booking of it (woah, wait, this is HAPPENING?) and one week after our wedding we were pulling into the airport. Now, for those of you who have never done it, allow me to explain what happens next. They get you to sign a waiver that extensively says that if/when you injure yourself or DIE you can't sue them, or have your family sue them. Cue the sweaty palms. Actually, at this point I was starting to freak out enough that I wrote my birthdate wrong on the sheet. So next I figured we'd be spending an hour or two in a classroom learning how NOT to die as we hurtle towards the earth. Um, not so much. It was like a two minute demo on how you should cross your arms as you go out, arch your back as you're falling, and lift your legs/slide on your butt as you land. TWO MINUTES. Then they have you in a jump suit and straps and you're out the door waiting for the speakers to announce you're to load into the plane. I'll admit, even at this point I was thinking maybe I would just go up in the plane and watch everyone else jump, then ride safely back down. After a few quick photos, next thing I know we are in the plane, and actually at this point I am feeling pretty calm. A plane ride, I've done this many times before! (And, actually, landing is the scariest part of plane rides for me!). So, my jump partner is crazy. Like the type of crazy that probably would do a jump naked, or wear one of those bat suits and fly next to the cliffs. Crazy. At this point I am just hoping that he's not also suicidal. Next thing I know he's strapping himself to my back. I'm double checking the straps and he tells me that if I keep fiddling with them it's my own fault if I fall off. I stop fiddling. I turn around and people are jumping out. Wait, this is HAPPENING?!? There go my friends. There goes my husband. Shit, we're moving towards the door. Well, he's walking/shuffling and I'm along for the ride. Next thing I know we're hanging out the door and counting down. At this point I couldn't turn back if I tried...
Now we're hurtling towards the earth and... I'm smiling! I'm also screaming all sorts of profanity, but I am acutely aware that I am smiling because my teeth are freezing. It was spectacular. I'm falling, and I am enjoying myself. Then I start to wonder if the chute should have opened yet, it feels like we've been falling for a while. WHERE'S THE CHUTE? After a couple of seconds of panic, I'm hauled up by the armpits (and crotch?) as the chute opens and we abruptly slow down. Phew. My jump partner gives me the reigns to the chute but I hand them back to him right away. For once in my life I don't want to be in control and am quite relieved to give it up. I feel so... alive. I think there are tears in my eyes. My jump partner wants to do spirals (he's crazy!) but I just want to float down and soak up the moment. Landing proves more difficult than I thought because I don't have a whole lot of flexibility in my legs, but I make it with no scuffs or bruises. The straps are undone and I run over and kiss my husband. There's a lot of yelling and arm waving as we reunite with our friends. It's over and the whole thing, from signing our lives away to this moment, took just over an hour.
And we feel exhilarated. Like we can take anything on in the world. Like there is no challenge that could EVER come our way that we couldn't overcome. And that is why I am recommending the experience to anyone out there. Because that feeling never really went away. I STILL feel like I can take on the world.To prove it to myself again, I held a huge bird while we were in the Dominican last April. It took like 4 days of convincing myself, and my hands were sweaty and my heart was pounding... But once you've jumped out of a plane holding a bird is really no big deal right? I'm looking for my next challenge, if anyone has any suggestions.
Ok, so maybe you don't actually need to jump out of a plane. The point is to challenge yourself with something that you thought you would NEVER do. Just do it. Once. To prove you can. The feeling that you get from it will be worth it.
I guess another side to this is that I like to control a situation to ensure that I feel "safe". My husband will be the first to tell you that I am a nervous passenger in the car because I worry that the driver is going to crash us into the car in front of us. I'm not a big fan of abrupt change because that leaves me open to the unknown, and the unknown scares me because I am not prepared for it. Yes, I am realizing more and more that I am a control freak who hates taking risks. So what do you do about it? You strap yourself onto a big burly man who is intent to jump out of a plane with you along for the ride. Of course.
I never expected to do it. I'm one of those people that has nightmares of falling. The kind of person that stays a long way away from the cliff's edge in case the earth crumbles away under my feet. So a little over a year ago, when some friends and my husband were talking about going skydiving, I laughed.The crazy fools. Then a discount coupon came out for tandem skydiving, and for some reason I let peer pressure take over and I bought one. Then came the actual booking of it (woah, wait, this is HAPPENING?) and one week after our wedding we were pulling into the airport. Now, for those of you who have never done it, allow me to explain what happens next. They get you to sign a waiver that extensively says that if/when you injure yourself or DIE you can't sue them, or have your family sue them. Cue the sweaty palms. Actually, at this point I was starting to freak out enough that I wrote my birthdate wrong on the sheet. So next I figured we'd be spending an hour or two in a classroom learning how NOT to die as we hurtle towards the earth. Um, not so much. It was like a two minute demo on how you should cross your arms as you go out, arch your back as you're falling, and lift your legs/slide on your butt as you land. TWO MINUTES. Then they have you in a jump suit and straps and you're out the door waiting for the speakers to announce you're to load into the plane. I'll admit, even at this point I was thinking maybe I would just go up in the plane and watch everyone else jump, then ride safely back down. After a few quick photos, next thing I know we are in the plane, and actually at this point I am feeling pretty calm. A plane ride, I've done this many times before! (And, actually, landing is the scariest part of plane rides for me!). So, my jump partner is crazy. Like the type of crazy that probably would do a jump naked, or wear one of those bat suits and fly next to the cliffs. Crazy. At this point I am just hoping that he's not also suicidal. Next thing I know he's strapping himself to my back. I'm double checking the straps and he tells me that if I keep fiddling with them it's my own fault if I fall off. I stop fiddling. I turn around and people are jumping out. Wait, this is HAPPENING?!? There go my friends. There goes my husband. Shit, we're moving towards the door. Well, he's walking/shuffling and I'm along for the ride. Next thing I know we're hanging out the door and counting down. At this point I couldn't turn back if I tried...
Now we're hurtling towards the earth and... I'm smiling! I'm also screaming all sorts of profanity, but I am acutely aware that I am smiling because my teeth are freezing. It was spectacular. I'm falling, and I am enjoying myself. Then I start to wonder if the chute should have opened yet, it feels like we've been falling for a while. WHERE'S THE CHUTE? After a couple of seconds of panic, I'm hauled up by the armpits (and crotch?) as the chute opens and we abruptly slow down. Phew. My jump partner gives me the reigns to the chute but I hand them back to him right away. For once in my life I don't want to be in control and am quite relieved to give it up. I feel so... alive. I think there are tears in my eyes. My jump partner wants to do spirals (he's crazy!) but I just want to float down and soak up the moment. Landing proves more difficult than I thought because I don't have a whole lot of flexibility in my legs, but I make it with no scuffs or bruises. The straps are undone and I run over and kiss my husband. There's a lot of yelling and arm waving as we reunite with our friends. It's over and the whole thing, from signing our lives away to this moment, took just over an hour.
And we feel exhilarated. Like we can take anything on in the world. Like there is no challenge that could EVER come our way that we couldn't overcome. And that is why I am recommending the experience to anyone out there. Because that feeling never really went away. I STILL feel like I can take on the world.To prove it to myself again, I held a huge bird while we were in the Dominican last April. It took like 4 days of convincing myself, and my hands were sweaty and my heart was pounding... But once you've jumped out of a plane holding a bird is really no big deal right? I'm looking for my next challenge, if anyone has any suggestions.
Ok, so maybe you don't actually need to jump out of a plane. The point is to challenge yourself with something that you thought you would NEVER do. Just do it. Once. To prove you can. The feeling that you get from it will be worth it.
Thursday 13 October 2011
Here I Am, Stuck in the Middle (With You?)
Here's a question that has been nagging me lately: When did a little bit of controversy become so... controversial? Ok, so I realize that the question itself doesn't make the greatest amount of sense, but what I mean is that I wonder when we all stopped wanting to talk about the things that we all have different opinions of. Ok, so maybe it still doesn't make much sense. Allow me to try to clarify...
One thing I have always liked to do is to spar in a little bit of a debate. It doesn't really matter how much I actually know about the subject sometimes, chances are I have an opinion on it anyway, and I like to get a back-and-forth going with someone else. Actually, I think this is actually how I end up learning the most about something, because chances are this will bring up facts and opinions on the subject that I had no clue about before. Another thing I have noted about these kind of debates is that sometimes I actually agree with the opinion of the other person, but I will actually try to find the counterpoints from the other side, just to keep the debate going. Maybe some people find this as me being argumentative. I like to think it's a healthy way of keeping everyone's mind open to the possibilities. I've been thinking recently about why it is that I seem to be able to flip back and forth between one side or the other, and what I have come up with is that it seems like a lot of the time I actually fall somewhere in the middle.
Now, I feel like some people may fear the middle. It makes it sound like I am wishy-washy. Like I can't commit to an opinion or side. I would argue against that (of course!) with that it is actually a harder commitment to be in the middle than it is to choose an actual side. Choosing sides is easy. You'll find a large community of people on whichever side you choose, and chances are they will have very strong opinions to back you up. Being in the middle is in-itself an active choice. I choose to be in the middle because I want to leave myself open to hearing both sides of the discussion. Some examples:
Politics. I know, for some of you your eyes are glazing over right now. I'll try to keep it short. Politics fascinate me because it seems like everyone has, for the most part, a common goal, but very different ways to try to get there. You've got one party that's all about the business and one party that's all about the environment. Of course I'm voting for the one who is somewhere in the middle. I think choosing too strongly towards one side or the other is going to throw our country into trouble. I could write a whole blog on my political views, so I will leave it there.
Religion. I've got friends that are atheist, and I've got friends where their faith is who they are. For a long time now I have identified as being Agnostic (which is NOT the same as being Atheist, look it up!). I'm not going to argue that either side is wrong, and I am willing to hear both sides of the argument. In fact I think that where religion becomes a problem is when people fall TOO strongly on one side or another and lose sight of the fact that ultimately we're all just people, and what we are letting divide us is ultimately just our own opinions.
A further note on the religion issue: I have heard a lot of people say that religion is what starts a lot of wars. I don't really believe this is true. I think what actually starts wars, divides people, causes bullying, and destroys the world is one thing: Intolerance. You don't always have to agree with someone, or expect them to believe in everything you do, but you do need to understand that they have just as much right to see and do things their way as you do your own. It's when one side feels that the other side is so wrong that they need to be stopped that the whole thing falls apart. Maybe if they actually had an open discussion with someone from the other view they would actually see that they really have a common goal and in fact are not so different after all. Maybe a little bit of controversy could pay off?
Who decided that things need to be so black and white? In my opinion, what the world needs is a whole lot more shades of gray. It creates a much richer picture, don't you think?
Tuesday 11 October 2011
One is Silver and the Other Gold
*Disclaimer* - I actually started writing this blog post once and then nixed it when it became this overly sentimental dribble. I'm rewriting now because I figure it's MY blog and I can write about whatever I feel like. So, on that note, enjoy!
Do you remember that song from elementary school? The one about making new friends? Well, just in case you don't have the knack of remembering pointless song lyrics that I do, I'll tell you:
Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other gold.
Yes, that is correct, today's post is about friendships. More specifically the older ones, but I'll get to that in a moment. One thing I have noticed so far in my adult life is that it seems a lot harder to form friendships. I don't so much mean that it is hard to make friends, or friendly acquaintances at least, but those sort of tight knit friendships that you know will last through anything. I don't know if it's because we're all so busy with our family time, or what exactly is missing, but I feel like it's just a heck of a lot harder to form the kind of friends that you know have your back even when you feel like giving up on yourself. I find myself wondering quite often if other people notice this as they get older as well. If we're just a bunch of people wandering around looking for our next "bestie" but with too much pride to admit that sometimes we just feel like nobody "gets" us quite the way we wish they would. (At this point I would like to add another disclaimer that my husband totally gets me and supports me, but since he's now family I am not clumping him into the broadened "friend" category as he is so much more than any friend could be.)
I have known my very best friend for over 16 years now. Granted, I would say that we've only really been close friends for about 11 or 12 of those years, but that's still a pretty big deal when you're only 27 years-old in the first place, so it's basically half your lifetime. My best friend also lives over 5000km away and we haven't seen each other face-to-face in about 4 years. He's also a guy, which has had it's own fair share of complications. Growing up I think our friendship confused a lot of people in a way, and most likely my parents as well. I remember having to fight for the right to have him over when my parents weren't home because they feared all of the shenanigans we might be getting into. In truth, our friendship started out more as the fact that I kept dating all of his good friends and they kept moving away. I guess we ended up feeling more like we were both left behind and needed to fill that hole with someone else to hang out with, so we filled our days with thousands of games of ping-pong, pool, darts, air hockey, basketball, bowling... Whatever competitive thing we could think of and I would inevitably lose at (with the exception of darts, I totally rocked at darts). Anyway, sometimes the best friendships form out of the strangest situations, and this is where I found mine.
I've wondered time and time again what actually makes our friendship the most important one to me, and I think really what it comes down to is that he has NEVER let me down. I'll admit, I am stubborn and have not always been the easiest friend to get along with. When warned that I was likely not making the best dating decisions I always ignored his warnings and did my own thing anyway. Inevitably this would always lead to me getting my heart broken and when I found myself up late at night wanting to cry my heart out, guess who was there to offer me some kind words and to cheer me up the next day. When I was way too distracted to pull off a decent group project in my senior year, guess who threw my name on his project so I could get a perfect mark (to be fair, he totally owed me for years of allowing him to copy my lab reports!). Through the years I don't think he ever set up plans with me and canceled at the last minute, or ever said he was too busy if there was a time I needed him (and even on one occasion invited me over when it was a guy's game night but I was feeling down). Even now, as an adult, I know that I can always send an email if I need advice or just a listening ear.
The other side of it is that I have always felt that I can be myself. I mean my true self. We might tease each other or (more in my case) roll our eyes, but the truth of the matter is that we are friends because we actually like who the other person truly is. I am not sure if that actually makes sense. What I am trying to get at is sometimes it seems like people in a social setting are fake. Like they are trying to better than everyone else, or fit some sort of image that they are trying to portray. With my best friend I am a complete and utter loser and he still wants to hang out with me.
This isn't to say it's always been easy. We've had some times when we've talked less, and one argument that almost cost us our friendship (but it turns out he was COMPLETELY right). We've had some times where our significant others at the time maybe didn't so much approve of our friendship with a member of the opposite sex. We've even had some times where maybe one of us thought there was the potential for something more than just friendship. But through it all our friendship has persevered and maybe even grown stronger. It is in fact all of this history that has made the friendship golden. When I look back at the years that have gone by I can't imagine going trough it all without him, and when I look towards the future I can't imagine not having him there to listen to me complain about the woes of married life (just kidding!).
So, to all you blog readers (all what, 4 or 5 of you?), here is my recommendation. Yes, make new friends. And in fact, some of those new friends will be darn good ones. But hold on to those old friends too. They're the ones that have helped to make you who you really and truly are, and the ones that will always be there for you when you need it most. The extra effort it may require to stay in touch is definitely worth it.
And to Alex? Happy Birthday and thanks for being the best friend a dorky girl could ask for. You really are like the big brother I never had. I love you and look forward to many, many more years of our friendship.
Amanda
Do you remember that song from elementary school? The one about making new friends? Well, just in case you don't have the knack of remembering pointless song lyrics that I do, I'll tell you:
Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other gold.
Yes, that is correct, today's post is about friendships. More specifically the older ones, but I'll get to that in a moment. One thing I have noticed so far in my adult life is that it seems a lot harder to form friendships. I don't so much mean that it is hard to make friends, or friendly acquaintances at least, but those sort of tight knit friendships that you know will last through anything. I don't know if it's because we're all so busy with our family time, or what exactly is missing, but I feel like it's just a heck of a lot harder to form the kind of friends that you know have your back even when you feel like giving up on yourself. I find myself wondering quite often if other people notice this as they get older as well. If we're just a bunch of people wandering around looking for our next "bestie" but with too much pride to admit that sometimes we just feel like nobody "gets" us quite the way we wish they would. (At this point I would like to add another disclaimer that my husband totally gets me and supports me, but since he's now family I am not clumping him into the broadened "friend" category as he is so much more than any friend could be.)
I have known my very best friend for over 16 years now. Granted, I would say that we've only really been close friends for about 11 or 12 of those years, but that's still a pretty big deal when you're only 27 years-old in the first place, so it's basically half your lifetime. My best friend also lives over 5000km away and we haven't seen each other face-to-face in about 4 years. He's also a guy, which has had it's own fair share of complications. Growing up I think our friendship confused a lot of people in a way, and most likely my parents as well. I remember having to fight for the right to have him over when my parents weren't home because they feared all of the shenanigans we might be getting into. In truth, our friendship started out more as the fact that I kept dating all of his good friends and they kept moving away. I guess we ended up feeling more like we were both left behind and needed to fill that hole with someone else to hang out with, so we filled our days with thousands of games of ping-pong, pool, darts, air hockey, basketball, bowling... Whatever competitive thing we could think of and I would inevitably lose at (with the exception of darts, I totally rocked at darts). Anyway, sometimes the best friendships form out of the strangest situations, and this is where I found mine.
I've wondered time and time again what actually makes our friendship the most important one to me, and I think really what it comes down to is that he has NEVER let me down. I'll admit, I am stubborn and have not always been the easiest friend to get along with. When warned that I was likely not making the best dating decisions I always ignored his warnings and did my own thing anyway. Inevitably this would always lead to me getting my heart broken and when I found myself up late at night wanting to cry my heart out, guess who was there to offer me some kind words and to cheer me up the next day. When I was way too distracted to pull off a decent group project in my senior year, guess who threw my name on his project so I could get a perfect mark (to be fair, he totally owed me for years of allowing him to copy my lab reports!). Through the years I don't think he ever set up plans with me and canceled at the last minute, or ever said he was too busy if there was a time I needed him (and even on one occasion invited me over when it was a guy's game night but I was feeling down). Even now, as an adult, I know that I can always send an email if I need advice or just a listening ear.
The other side of it is that I have always felt that I can be myself. I mean my true self. We might tease each other or (more in my case) roll our eyes, but the truth of the matter is that we are friends because we actually like who the other person truly is. I am not sure if that actually makes sense. What I am trying to get at is sometimes it seems like people in a social setting are fake. Like they are trying to better than everyone else, or fit some sort of image that they are trying to portray. With my best friend I am a complete and utter loser and he still wants to hang out with me.
This isn't to say it's always been easy. We've had some times when we've talked less, and one argument that almost cost us our friendship (but it turns out he was COMPLETELY right). We've had some times where our significant others at the time maybe didn't so much approve of our friendship with a member of the opposite sex. We've even had some times where maybe one of us thought there was the potential for something more than just friendship. But through it all our friendship has persevered and maybe even grown stronger. It is in fact all of this history that has made the friendship golden. When I look back at the years that have gone by I can't imagine going trough it all without him, and when I look towards the future I can't imagine not having him there to listen to me complain about the woes of married life (just kidding!).
So, to all you blog readers (all what, 4 or 5 of you?), here is my recommendation. Yes, make new friends. And in fact, some of those new friends will be darn good ones. But hold on to those old friends too. They're the ones that have helped to make you who you really and truly are, and the ones that will always be there for you when you need it most. The extra effort it may require to stay in touch is definitely worth it.
And to Alex? Happy Birthday and thanks for being the best friend a dorky girl could ask for. You really are like the big brother I never had. I love you and look forward to many, many more years of our friendship.
Amanda
Wednesday 28 September 2011
Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend
Sorry Marilyn, but I just don't get it.
As many of you probably don't know, September 22nd was the anniversary of the day we got engaged (if my math is right it was 3 years ago?). This, coupled with the fact that a few people I know have recently gotten engaged themselves, has made me think of diamonds a lot recently. More specifically, what is the big deal about diamonds? Why is society so gaga about them?
Tuesday 20 September 2011
This is who I am, but it does not define me.
I'm an Animal Health Technician at a humane society. We are a full shelter, spay/neuter and adoption facility. I've worked there 2 years now and for the most part I love my job. I find that people don't really understand first off what I do, and secondly, how I do it.
Let me start off by telling you what a tech does. Everything. Ok, well not quite, but some days it feels that way. In a typical clinic you might see a tech counseling clients, taking Xrays, working out drug doses and administering them, delivering and monitoring anesthesia, taking blood and inserting IVs, applying bandages and cleaning wounds, cleaning and polishing teeth, and so on and so forth. Basically anything but actual surgery and the actual diagnosis of disease (although we can often tell what it is and what to do about it, we technically aren't supposed to make the actual diagnosis or prescribe the treatment). Another thing we are sometimes required to do is to euthanize animals. My job at the shelter involves all of these things that I have just listed (and then some!), but it seems that all people zero in on when I tell them what I do is the euthanasia part.
"I don't know how you do it!", "I love animals too much to do anything like that", "That's so terrible, why would anyone want to work there!". I get a lot of these kind of statements from friends, family, and people I have just met who find out what I do. It seems that everyone ignores the happy side of uniting people with pets and creating those bonds, just to focus on the harsh reality that yes, we do euthanize animals. And I'll tell you something that may startle you, but I encourage you to keep reading: I am glad that we do.
Now now, calm down. I assure you, I love animals. I couldn't survive in this job if I didn't. But I am truly lucky that euthanasia exists and that we are able to provide it to animals. Look at the harsh reality of any "no-kill" shelter and you will see why. Animals that are suffering are offered no alternative but to keep suffering. Animals that have no hope of making a recovery, that have a terminal illness or injury, are left to slowly and painfully fade away until they have nothing left. I am lucky in that I can look into an animal's eyes and see that pain and suffering and offer them a humane and gracious end to it. I am also lucky in that our shelter does not euthanize for time and space. This means that there's no ticking timeclock over their heads, that they can stay in the shelter as long as they are healthy mentally and physically until their forever home comes along. So we are not just euthanizing random animals all the time, there is always a reason. Sometimes they are cats that are too terrified to leave the back corner of their kennel, or dogs that are so scared of everyone and everything that they lash out and attempt to bite even the kindest hand that is offered to them. Sometimes it IS the sick, the old, the weary. There is always a reason, and that reason is open knowledge to all of the staff in the shelter, who can dispute the decision if they feel there is still something more that can be humanely done. So it is because we love these animals so much that we are willing to end their suffering. What quality has your life when you are too terrified to even eat and you are slowly starving to death?
Truth be told, I actually have to do the injection itself less at my current job then at the clinic jobs I had before it. Most days my job involves giving the sedative beforehand but not the actual lethal injection. This makes it easier on those more emotional days, I can tell myself that I am just making them sleepy, not "killing" them. This is particularly useful for those animals that become my favorites, but then fail the screening process because they are severely dog aggressive, or (in one of the hardest cases since I have worked there) it turns out that loving overweight cat has diabetes. Yes, sometimes emotions run high and tears are shed. But I am so lucky to work in a place where everyone shares that same love for animals and has too shed some tears at some time or another.
So what was my original point? Ah yes. I do euthanize animals. I also care for them on a daily basis. I commit 40 paid hours a week, plus often overtime, and numerous hours of unpaid time at work. I have 3 pets at home that want my love and affection the second I return home. Animals and my bond with them are both what I do and who I am. They are me. But I am so much more than a "tech" or a "euthanasia technician" or the "animal killer" label that people want to slap on me. Maybe sometimes when I do have to give that injection to an animal I love, I do die a little inside. But when I turn around and see a little girl whose family is adopting a kitten for the first time, and the joy that she has for that new bond; or the little puppy with the fractured leg who makes a full recovery and heads out to start a brand new life; or even when I come home to tail wags and purrs... that little piece of my heart is reborn.
The Beginning
So, I now have a blog. Truth be told I have thought for a long time that there should be a place I can just go and ramble to my heart's content, as I have been told that my long-winded emails to friends can sometimes be intimidating (sorry Alex!). Like I said, I have been contemplating a blog for quite some time but assumed that nobody would really be that interested in hearing what I have to say. Now, that may well still be the case, but since a couple of friends have recently started their own blogs, it feels like now is the time...
Let me begin by telling you all that I really have no idea what the main theme of my blog will be about. Actually, I have a pretty good idea that most posts will just be about what random thing pops into my head that day. I've called my blog East Meets West (And added the Amanda Style because someone has already claimed East Meets West apparently) because, after some contemplation, I think this is what has defined me most in my life so far. I was raised in small-town Nova Scotia by my two parents. This is what has taught me my values, my beliefs, and I think formed my generally laid-back nature. When I was just coming into my early twenties I made a decision to move out west to Alberta and never realized how much it would change me. Really, I never thought I would stay out here permanently (and a large part of me still aches for the east coast every day). I wouldn't say it has changed me into a better or worse person, just that there has been a definite change that even I grasp to understand on a regular basis. I still have my small-town values and I still long for true peace and quiet sometimes, but there is now a part of me that does enjoy the pulse of the city and the fact that any kind of food or service is closely available to me. I do credit Alberta for the road-rage and general short-temperedness I have seem to have acquired, but also for giving me the man I love more than my own life. It's a love-hate relationship I guess (between me and Alberta, not between me and my husband!). Anyway, that is where the title of the blog comes in, and now that it has been mentioned once it will likely not be ever mentioned again.
You'll find in my blogs I will make up my own words to describe things, I may not always keep on my train of thought, and there may well be run-on sentences here and there. I will, however, promise you that I will always try to use the proper there/they're/their combos and such though, because man that shit gets annoying. I hope that I can at least produce something that's enjoyable for other people to read, but even if you're (not your!) bored to tears know that I intend to keep blathering away. The choice to stop reading or give me a chance to give you something thought-provoking is yours.
Amanda
PS> I hate that my first blog post is so boring and generic. Next time I will try harder, I promise. I am already debating putting in a second post for today with the topic I really wanted to write about.
Let me begin by telling you all that I really have no idea what the main theme of my blog will be about. Actually, I have a pretty good idea that most posts will just be about what random thing pops into my head that day. I've called my blog East Meets West (And added the Amanda Style because someone has already claimed East Meets West apparently) because, after some contemplation, I think this is what has defined me most in my life so far. I was raised in small-town Nova Scotia by my two parents. This is what has taught me my values, my beliefs, and I think formed my generally laid-back nature. When I was just coming into my early twenties I made a decision to move out west to Alberta and never realized how much it would change me. Really, I never thought I would stay out here permanently (and a large part of me still aches for the east coast every day). I wouldn't say it has changed me into a better or worse person, just that there has been a definite change that even I grasp to understand on a regular basis. I still have my small-town values and I still long for true peace and quiet sometimes, but there is now a part of me that does enjoy the pulse of the city and the fact that any kind of food or service is closely available to me. I do credit Alberta for the road-rage and general short-temperedness I have seem to have acquired, but also for giving me the man I love more than my own life. It's a love-hate relationship I guess (between me and Alberta, not between me and my husband!). Anyway, that is where the title of the blog comes in, and now that it has been mentioned once it will likely not be ever mentioned again.
You'll find in my blogs I will make up my own words to describe things, I may not always keep on my train of thought, and there may well be run-on sentences here and there. I will, however, promise you that I will always try to use the proper there/they're/their combos and such though, because man that shit gets annoying. I hope that I can at least produce something that's enjoyable for other people to read, but even if you're (not your!) bored to tears know that I intend to keep blathering away. The choice to stop reading or give me a chance to give you something thought-provoking is yours.
Amanda
PS> I hate that my first blog post is so boring and generic. Next time I will try harder, I promise. I am already debating putting in a second post for today with the topic I really wanted to write about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)