Attention Albertans: The provincial election is coming up on April 23rd. I know many of you don't care. I know many of you are not from Alberta anyway and therefore have even less reason to care. Please keep reading! Although this is going to be a bit of a political post I am going to try to keep it unbiased and applicable to any election, not just to ours coming up.
Deciding to write a more political post was a bit of a tough decision, because I know that the level of interest in politics among the general public is fairly low. When you look at voter turnout for any election in Canada, it's usually only about 50-60% of all eligible voters. Also, those of you that know me well know that any time there's an election I start harping at everyone to go vote. It's the same old tune. But come on people, 50-60%?!? That's pathetic. I just can't fathom why anyone in their right mind would not want to exercise their right to vote. It's there so that we can be a fair and equal society. People have fought hard for you to have the right to vote an continue to fight so that you can have it. And you can't take the time, which is literally less than 5 minutes, to put an X on a piece of paper and stuff it in a box?
OK, so I'm used to the arguments. Some of you feel like nothing ever seems to change regardless of who wins, so why bother? Some of you don't really know enough about the parties to make an actual decision. Some of you just say you hate politics and therefore don't pay attention to elections. My rebuttal:
1) You don't know enough about the parties: Come on. You know as well as I do that this is kind of a half-assed excuse. The media puts out lots of news stories any election time in an attempt to educate the public about the political platforms. Usually the parties themselves will drop info fliers into your postbox. If you're not informed it's because you have been too lazy to inform yourself. It's the same as anything else in life, you're not going to learn about it unless you actually put in a little bit of effort. Watch a leader's debate, read a paper, use Google... Just inform yourself!
2) You hate politics and find it boring: I can promise you, there is at least one reason why you should care, and that reason will be a personal one. Maybe you should care because you have or are going to have children, and you want to make sure that there are going to be enough schools for them to get a quality education. Or you don't want to have to pay school fees for basic classes at what is supposed to be a public school. Maybe you care about your taxes potentially going up (there is one party that is actually campaigning that they will raise the provincial tax). Maybe you care about having quality, free healthcare and don't want to have to start paying for private healthcare. Maybe you care about the environment and protecting it while still being able to utilize the resources Alberta has access to. Maybe you don't want your tax dollars to pay someone to sit on a committee that has never met a single time (research the "No-meet" committee - it happened!). Maybe you just want things to stay the way they're currently chugging along. No matter which side of the argument you sit on, chances are you have an opinion on at least one of these issues. This is your one opportunity for the next four years to make your voice heard. After this one day, you can go back to ignoring what is going on if you wish, but, in some way or another, regardless of who you are, you will be affected by the decisions these people make.
3) Nothing ever seems to change regardless of who wins: To be fair, the Alberta Conservatives have been in power for something like the last 45 years, so you can't really expect there to have been any major changes in that time span. But, here's the thing: This election is projected to be one of the closest in Alberta's history. We have more of an opportunity this time around to tell the politicians what we really want and to have them listen than ever before. Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't vote Conservative, and in fact if you have researched the parties and you agree most with their values, then I think you should do just that. What I am saying is that this time around in particular, but still in any election, your individual vote really matters. You may say it's just one vote, but remember how I said the typical election turnout is typically somewhere around 50-60%? What if the other 50% actually voted? How would that change our political landscape? Minority governments have been formed on less than 50%. You could almost argue that the opinions of that percentage that don't typically vote may actually count more as they are perhaps more likely to want to vote for the smaller parties but feel like their vote is just going to get lost amung those for the more popular parties.
What I am trying to stress is this: I don't really care who you vote for. Well, I do in a way because obviously there's a party I would like to see win, but it's more important to me that you just vote. If the party I like best loses, but I can see that a true majority of Albertans chose the winning party, I can live with that. If my party loses (or really, even if it wins), and it comes back that only half of Albertans actually took the time to vote, then really we have all lost.
Democracy only really works if everyone utilizes their individual voice.
Sunday, 15 April 2012
Friday, 6 April 2012
A Seinfield Kind of Post
May I present you a post about nothing. Well, I guess it's something really, just nothing of real importance. Really just a post to say I posted.
My car currently stinks. Last week I got into it on my way home from work and noticed that there was a very foul odour. If I had to liken it to something, I would say it is similar to the smell of a body decomposing. (I know some of you are now questioning why I know what a body decomposing actually smells like, in which case I urge you to remember what I do in my line of work and to use your imagination a bit. Keep in mind that sometimes in life things are too large to fit into a freezer. Anywho...) Strangely, I did not notice the odour in question during my drive in to work that morning. Admittedly, my car is not very clean inside at the moment, but I dug around a bit and I did not find any sort of known source of the odour. I found a bunch of empty popcans, some receipts and a half-full can of Coke that was a couple days old, but certainly no body or anything that made me go "ahhhh, THAT's why it stinks...". I had bathed the dog earlier in the week and his blanket was sitting in the backseat, so maybe it's a terrible wet dog stink? So I took the blanket out but the smell still seems to linger. It seems it comes and goes from time to time, one day it was so bad I actually gagged when I got in. So anyway, I have been meaning to clean it out for about a week and a half now, but I just haven't seemed to have the time. Basically I did what any lazy person would do and I just went out and bought an air freshener, which has helped but I still get a whiff of stank every now and then. Then I remembered that the smell started the day of a rather large snowstorm we got, and I remembered also that I've always been told that sometimes critters like to crawl up under your hood to take advantage of the heat from the cooling engine. I've been meaning to check under the hood of my car to see if there's something dead under there, but at the same time I am too fearful to look in case there actually is. Tomorrow I plan to actually clean the whole thing out, so I'll keep you posted as to what I find. I know you'll be on the edge of your seat until then.
So now you all know the extent of my laziness, I am content to drive around in a stanky car for almost 2 weeks rather than take the time to clean it. Also, for those of you who see me in my day-to-day life, if I have been particularly stinky in the last 2 weeks you will know why.
Also, a while ago I knocked over the half-can of Coke into my cup holder. I am not looking forward to cleaning up that sticky mess. Luckily the large wad of receipts that was in there seems to have absorbed much of it. You thought I was a slob but really it turns out I'm just quite resourceful.
Oh yeah, I failed at quitting drinking Coke. It's just too damn tasty.
Anyone need me to drive them anywhere?
My car currently stinks. Last week I got into it on my way home from work and noticed that there was a very foul odour. If I had to liken it to something, I would say it is similar to the smell of a body decomposing. (I know some of you are now questioning why I know what a body decomposing actually smells like, in which case I urge you to remember what I do in my line of work and to use your imagination a bit. Keep in mind that sometimes in life things are too large to fit into a freezer. Anywho...) Strangely, I did not notice the odour in question during my drive in to work that morning. Admittedly, my car is not very clean inside at the moment, but I dug around a bit and I did not find any sort of known source of the odour. I found a bunch of empty popcans, some receipts and a half-full can of Coke that was a couple days old, but certainly no body or anything that made me go "ahhhh, THAT's why it stinks...". I had bathed the dog earlier in the week and his blanket was sitting in the backseat, so maybe it's a terrible wet dog stink? So I took the blanket out but the smell still seems to linger. It seems it comes and goes from time to time, one day it was so bad I actually gagged when I got in. So anyway, I have been meaning to clean it out for about a week and a half now, but I just haven't seemed to have the time. Basically I did what any lazy person would do and I just went out and bought an air freshener, which has helped but I still get a whiff of stank every now and then. Then I remembered that the smell started the day of a rather large snowstorm we got, and I remembered also that I've always been told that sometimes critters like to crawl up under your hood to take advantage of the heat from the cooling engine. I've been meaning to check under the hood of my car to see if there's something dead under there, but at the same time I am too fearful to look in case there actually is. Tomorrow I plan to actually clean the whole thing out, so I'll keep you posted as to what I find. I know you'll be on the edge of your seat until then.
So now you all know the extent of my laziness, I am content to drive around in a stanky car for almost 2 weeks rather than take the time to clean it. Also, for those of you who see me in my day-to-day life, if I have been particularly stinky in the last 2 weeks you will know why.
Also, a while ago I knocked over the half-can of Coke into my cup holder. I am not looking forward to cleaning up that sticky mess. Luckily the large wad of receipts that was in there seems to have absorbed much of it. You thought I was a slob but really it turns out I'm just quite resourceful.
Oh yeah, I failed at quitting drinking Coke. It's just too damn tasty.
Anyone need me to drive them anywhere?
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
The 'Skinny Girl's' Lament
Look at that, two posts in one day. I guess that's a tribute both to how dedicated to restarting this blog I am, and also to how little I have to do at the moment.
Ok, so let me give you some back story for those of you that didn't know me back in my somewhat awkward teenage years. I was always a pretty skinny girl. We're talking size double zero, no curves, people accusing me of anorexia kind of skinny. I didn't get boobs until university, and I was under 110 pounds until around-about that time as well. This was by no choice of mine, for I could scarf down a bigmac and fries along with the best of them. At first I hated my scrawniness, then just learned to accept it.
When I started getting hips and my jeans stopped fitting properly (in my early 20's), I may have cried a bit but then just accepted that this is what happens when you turn into a women. For the most part I was still considered "skinny" and most people rolled their eyes when I complained about my pants not fitting. I had a number in my head of the weight I needed to start "worrying" at, and I still had lots of wiggle room before I would ever get there. No big deal.
Well, here lies the issue. Lately I have been noticing I've been putting on some pounds in the uh, spare tire region? So, I did what any woman has been trained to do: I stepped on the scale. Uh-oh, remember that magical "worry" weight I just mentioned? I've crossed it. Now this itself is not really the major issue, the issue I have is how people react when I tell them that I am concerned about gaining more weight. In society today, I am probably still smaller than a large portion of the general population. I am actually still in the "healthy" body fat ratio and I would certainly not consider myself obese. BUT I have reached a point where I am concerned that I am at the tip of a very slippery slope and if I don't make a point of changing the route I am going I will skid all the way to the bottom. Essentially, I am aware that I need to start making healthier choices.
You're probably still wondering where my problem is. I expected this from the beginning, you're probably thinking "aw, the girl that has been skinny all her life has put on some pounds and now she's sad. Boo hoo hoo". This is my big fear. Our society is preoccupied with discussing weight and body image, and then when I try to join the conversation I get eye rolls and "oh come on"s. My point is, don't hate the skinny girl. Just because naturally our ideal body weight may be at a lower range than yours (I would say my ideal weight is probably somewhere around 125 pounds, based on observation. I know there are a lot of women out there who would be skin and bones at this weight), doesn't mean that you should ridicule us when we mention how we wish we could get in better shape or make healthier choices. We're all fighting the same battle here!
Now, with all of that in mind, let me tell you of the big personal battle I am currently undertaking. The one that is keeping me up at night, gives me headaches and makes me sweat (literally!). I have a major coke addiction. Not cocaine you fool, Coca-cola. I love it. As soon as I crack open a can a wave of euphoria comes over me. I wish I was exaggerating. I also love food. Cheesy food. Fattening food. But it is time (as my body has started telling me) that I start making healthier choices. So I have cut Coke (mostly) out of my diet. I am limiting myself to one or two a week. Primarily I will be drinking lemon water. I may also begin cutting out the cheesy, fattening foods I love. This will make me cranky. The lack of Coke makes me antsy. I will be a twitching, over-reacting lunatic until my body adjusts. Please don't hold it against me. Please don't roll your eyes at me when I tell you that I am trying to be healthier/skinnier. I am on the same quest for a happy body image that we all are. I am still finding it really hard.
Please don't hate me for wanting to be the skinny girl. Or if I succeed and my ass starts looking good in a bikini again.
Ok, so let me give you some back story for those of you that didn't know me back in my somewhat awkward teenage years. I was always a pretty skinny girl. We're talking size double zero, no curves, people accusing me of anorexia kind of skinny. I didn't get boobs until university, and I was under 110 pounds until around-about that time as well. This was by no choice of mine, for I could scarf down a bigmac and fries along with the best of them. At first I hated my scrawniness, then just learned to accept it.
When I started getting hips and my jeans stopped fitting properly (in my early 20's), I may have cried a bit but then just accepted that this is what happens when you turn into a women. For the most part I was still considered "skinny" and most people rolled their eyes when I complained about my pants not fitting. I had a number in my head of the weight I needed to start "worrying" at, and I still had lots of wiggle room before I would ever get there. No big deal.
Well, here lies the issue. Lately I have been noticing I've been putting on some pounds in the uh, spare tire region? So, I did what any woman has been trained to do: I stepped on the scale. Uh-oh, remember that magical "worry" weight I just mentioned? I've crossed it. Now this itself is not really the major issue, the issue I have is how people react when I tell them that I am concerned about gaining more weight. In society today, I am probably still smaller than a large portion of the general population. I am actually still in the "healthy" body fat ratio and I would certainly not consider myself obese. BUT I have reached a point where I am concerned that I am at the tip of a very slippery slope and if I don't make a point of changing the route I am going I will skid all the way to the bottom. Essentially, I am aware that I need to start making healthier choices.
You're probably still wondering where my problem is. I expected this from the beginning, you're probably thinking "aw, the girl that has been skinny all her life has put on some pounds and now she's sad. Boo hoo hoo". This is my big fear. Our society is preoccupied with discussing weight and body image, and then when I try to join the conversation I get eye rolls and "oh come on"s. My point is, don't hate the skinny girl. Just because naturally our ideal body weight may be at a lower range than yours (I would say my ideal weight is probably somewhere around 125 pounds, based on observation. I know there are a lot of women out there who would be skin and bones at this weight), doesn't mean that you should ridicule us when we mention how we wish we could get in better shape or make healthier choices. We're all fighting the same battle here!
Now, with all of that in mind, let me tell you of the big personal battle I am currently undertaking. The one that is keeping me up at night, gives me headaches and makes me sweat (literally!). I have a major coke addiction. Not cocaine you fool, Coca-cola. I love it. As soon as I crack open a can a wave of euphoria comes over me. I wish I was exaggerating. I also love food. Cheesy food. Fattening food. But it is time (as my body has started telling me) that I start making healthier choices. So I have cut Coke (mostly) out of my diet. I am limiting myself to one or two a week. Primarily I will be drinking lemon water. I may also begin cutting out the cheesy, fattening foods I love. This will make me cranky. The lack of Coke makes me antsy. I will be a twitching, over-reacting lunatic until my body adjusts. Please don't hold it against me. Please don't roll your eyes at me when I tell you that I am trying to be healthier/skinnier. I am on the same quest for a happy body image that we all are. I am still finding it really hard.
Please don't hate me for wanting to be the skinny girl. Or if I succeed and my ass starts looking good in a bikini again.
Well, hello again...
Ok, so I know it has been a LONG time since I have blogged. In fact, if you look back my last post was on Remembrance Day. Now, a few people (most notably my dad) have asked me while I have been on this hiatus why it is that I haven't been blogging as of late. So I offer you an explanation of sorts:
Reason #1: I have been unemployed.
Ok, so not really unemployed. I left my old job at the animal shelter in order to go work back in private practice. The practice is owned by a friend of mine and the possibility to move on and work for him came along right about the time I needed it. Although for the most part I loved (and still love) the shelter, I found that constantly seeing the uncared for and suffering animals being brought in was making me lose my faith in society a little. I read somewhere a while back that every tech should "work in a private practice, but leave before they get soft. Work in a shelter, but leave before they get hard" (or something along those lines). I'm looking forward to softening myself back up a bit. Anyway, I haven't really been employed but I took some time off between the two jobs to relax and refresh my brain a bit before starting into my new job. Now, I know you are probably thinking that this should have left me MORE time to be updating my blog, but in doing so you are completely underestimating my capacity to do nothing. Unless, of course, you consider sitting on the couch watching TV or working on jigsaw puzzles something, in which case I have simply been too terribly busy to write.
Reason #2: I'm not a know-it-all.
I worried a bit while reading some previous posts that I sounded a little... pompous? I assure you, I am no expert on how to live your life. Admittedly, the way I have chosen to live mine thus far has worked out pretty damn well for me, but I am sure that someone could make the complete opposite choices and be just as happy with their own life. I assure you, dear reader, that I don't think myself any better than you and I am sorry if it came across in any other way. I credit this realization partly to a recent viral video that was making its way around the internet. At one small part in the video it made reference to the author's belief that a marriage could not be successful unless it was built around a certain religious figure. My own marriage not being built around that certain religious figure, I was SO INSULTED. How dare he?!? How dare he discredit not only my own marriage but the thousands of thousands of other marriages worldwide that do not choose to worship that religious figure? How dare he assume that we will all fail for this one particular reason? Then I realized that this was only his own particular view, and because it works for him (although I am not even sure that the young man in the video is, in fact, married) he assumes it to be the ultimate truth. I kind of do the same thing, so I can't really judge him. Truth be told, I am still a little insulted, but to each his own. Anyway, I will point out again that this blog is based only on my own personal opinions, if you choose not to agree then I'm not really going to hold it against you.
Reason #3: A little thing called censorship.
I don't know if any of you have dealt with this personally, but censorship is a horrible horrible thing. Without going into it in a whole lot of detail, a while back I got myself in a bit of trouble for something that I said on Facebook. Now, this thing in particular was very clearly the opinion of myself and not anyone else but someone in a position close to me got offended and reacted as if I had slapped them in the face. The result was that I was told to no longer post any opinions on Facebook or suffer the (major) consequences. The part I really didn't get was that I was told I could share these opinions publicly in any other way, just not on Facebook. So really, the blog wasn't specifically named as being somewhere that I couldn't post the same opinions, but I chose to stop writing here as well until I felt I could write a sane entry without ranting about the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and how I had been violated. Anyway, I have figured out a way to no longer live my life in fear of prosecution, so blog is back on.
Reason #4: I haven't really had that much of interest to talk about.
When I started this blog, I told my husband that I think "professional blogger" has become my dream job (my old dream job was to be the taste tester at an ice cream factory. I am not even sure that position actually exists). My husband pointed out that it would not be so easy to come up with a daily topic to write about, and I laughed at him (those of you who went to junior high with me might remember the 'Amanda's Story of the Day'). Well, in reality, it turns out that he was quite right. Although there are multiple things that occur in my daily life that interest me, it seems that the average blog reader may not find it interesting at all. In fact, the most exciting piece of news I had lately was that my friend Alex (star of this blog entry) was going to move out west and in with us. Alas, he decided en-route out west to stay in Toronto and therefore destroying my only bit of excitement. Did I mention what a shitty friend he is? (I am joking of course, but he feels kind of shitty about it and thus I have to make a jab at him a little. I'm a good friend like that). Anyway, what I am trying to say is I don't have a whole lot going on, however it occurs to me that if you're reading this, you probably don't either!
So, there you have it. I promise there will be more posts in regards to my mundane life coming soon.
Reason #1: I have been unemployed.
Ok, so not really unemployed. I left my old job at the animal shelter in order to go work back in private practice. The practice is owned by a friend of mine and the possibility to move on and work for him came along right about the time I needed it. Although for the most part I loved (and still love) the shelter, I found that constantly seeing the uncared for and suffering animals being brought in was making me lose my faith in society a little. I read somewhere a while back that every tech should "work in a private practice, but leave before they get soft. Work in a shelter, but leave before they get hard" (or something along those lines). I'm looking forward to softening myself back up a bit. Anyway, I haven't really been employed but I took some time off between the two jobs to relax and refresh my brain a bit before starting into my new job. Now, I know you are probably thinking that this should have left me MORE time to be updating my blog, but in doing so you are completely underestimating my capacity to do nothing. Unless, of course, you consider sitting on the couch watching TV or working on jigsaw puzzles something, in which case I have simply been too terribly busy to write.
Reason #2: I'm not a know-it-all.
I worried a bit while reading some previous posts that I sounded a little... pompous? I assure you, I am no expert on how to live your life. Admittedly, the way I have chosen to live mine thus far has worked out pretty damn well for me, but I am sure that someone could make the complete opposite choices and be just as happy with their own life. I assure you, dear reader, that I don't think myself any better than you and I am sorry if it came across in any other way. I credit this realization partly to a recent viral video that was making its way around the internet. At one small part in the video it made reference to the author's belief that a marriage could not be successful unless it was built around a certain religious figure. My own marriage not being built around that certain religious figure, I was SO INSULTED. How dare he?!? How dare he discredit not only my own marriage but the thousands of thousands of other marriages worldwide that do not choose to worship that religious figure? How dare he assume that we will all fail for this one particular reason? Then I realized that this was only his own particular view, and because it works for him (although I am not even sure that the young man in the video is, in fact, married) he assumes it to be the ultimate truth. I kind of do the same thing, so I can't really judge him. Truth be told, I am still a little insulted, but to each his own. Anyway, I will point out again that this blog is based only on my own personal opinions, if you choose not to agree then I'm not really going to hold it against you.
Reason #3: A little thing called censorship.
I don't know if any of you have dealt with this personally, but censorship is a horrible horrible thing. Without going into it in a whole lot of detail, a while back I got myself in a bit of trouble for something that I said on Facebook. Now, this thing in particular was very clearly the opinion of myself and not anyone else but someone in a position close to me got offended and reacted as if I had slapped them in the face. The result was that I was told to no longer post any opinions on Facebook or suffer the (major) consequences. The part I really didn't get was that I was told I could share these opinions publicly in any other way, just not on Facebook. So really, the blog wasn't specifically named as being somewhere that I couldn't post the same opinions, but I chose to stop writing here as well until I felt I could write a sane entry without ranting about the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and how I had been violated. Anyway, I have figured out a way to no longer live my life in fear of prosecution, so blog is back on.
Reason #4: I haven't really had that much of interest to talk about.
When I started this blog, I told my husband that I think "professional blogger" has become my dream job (my old dream job was to be the taste tester at an ice cream factory. I am not even sure that position actually exists). My husband pointed out that it would not be so easy to come up with a daily topic to write about, and I laughed at him (those of you who went to junior high with me might remember the 'Amanda's Story of the Day'). Well, in reality, it turns out that he was quite right. Although there are multiple things that occur in my daily life that interest me, it seems that the average blog reader may not find it interesting at all. In fact, the most exciting piece of news I had lately was that my friend Alex (star of this blog entry) was going to move out west and in with us. Alas, he decided en-route out west to stay in Toronto and therefore destroying my only bit of excitement. Did I mention what a shitty friend he is? (I am joking of course, but he feels kind of shitty about it and thus I have to make a jab at him a little. I'm a good friend like that). Anyway, what I am trying to say is I don't have a whole lot going on, however it occurs to me that if you're reading this, you probably don't either!
So, there you have it. I promise there will be more posts in regards to my mundane life coming soon.
Friday, 11 November 2011
Two Minutes
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.
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.
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.
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