Someone recently told me to make a list of things that I like about myself. I'm not entirely sure what that will accomplish. Will I look at the list and then not be able to fit through doors as my head is so big? Who knows? This person is wise, so I'm going to give it a whirl. I probably shouldn't do it this publicly, but alas, my journal is too far away, and I hate writing in notepad on the computer.
I think I've got a good sense of humour. I'm reasonably intelligent. I'm empathetic (sometimes I despise this about myself, but I'm mostly thankful for it). I like the colour o f my eyes. I like that I play the trombone. I like my friends. I usually like my hair. As annoying as they may be for some, I like my puns. I'm feeling pretty weird about this. I like that I'm president of the student council. I like my work ethic. Well.....this self-indulgent list is getting quite long enough I think.
Ok, this is one of the hardest things I've ever written, and I've written a five-page paper about a comma in John Donne's "Death be not Proud" poem. Seriously.
As a sidebar, will the Barenaked Ladies survive without Stephen Paige? I personally am going to miss the soothing tone of his sweet tenor tunes. Time will only tell. And what the hell was Paige thinking, leaving the band. One week, if he loses a million dollars, discovers alcohol and moves into the old apartment, is how long it will take Paige to return to the Ladies. I can't stand to learn anyone else's name in the band, except Ed.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The things I can't say
I am an open person. I don't have many secrets (especially not after my documentary screening the other night). Thank you to everyone who came. I truly felt loved.
I feel like there are a few things that I can't express, despite my typically open attitude. My reasons for keeping the secrets I have are for the sake of protecting those around me. Sometimes it's hard to hold everything inside. But, I have to.
No good could come from saying everything. I mean, that's why we, as human beings, have filters. A wise friend of mine recently said (in a blog) to seize the day. I'm not sure what, if any, good could come from spilling my guts on this one.
I also think it's impossible to keep things in completely. It really hurts to do that. So, alas, I'm using this forum to speak in circles. I would apologize for this; however, I find myself apologizing a lot lately, and I'm not really sure why. I wonder if using those two words so often negates their meaning.
Sometimes I wish I could scream and yell and get angry, but that's not me. And I don't really feel like that. I think my empathy for others (including the people who hurt me sometimes) makes me understand why people do the things they do. Thus, I can justify it in my mind, thus I can't get angry. I just hurt.
This certainly isn't an indication of how I feel all the time....just right now. Don't worry about me, I will be fine. I just needed to write this.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Journeys
I have two friends who, in a week, drove to Nashville, Tennessee, and back. Their trip was epic.
I did not venture out of the GWA (greater Woodstock area), yet this week was a different kind of journey.
I started the week with a large task at hand - finishing my documentary about my own struggle with weight. The interviews that I shot for this doc. had already changed my life for the better in terms of becoming a happier person. I now had to finish.
There were some obstacles at the beginning of the week (and I wouldn't change them for anything). I had a friend who needed me, and then was hit like a tonne of bricks with a terrible head cold. This made staring at a computer screen to edit impossible. I lost two and a half days of work - I knew I would get through it though.
I brought the essentials to school on Thursday and Friday - slippers, blankie, apples and the will to finish. I looked like a documentary superhero with my hot pink blankie wrapped around my shoulders like a cape, and my brown and beige checked slippers.
This mind-bending journey ended at 9:26pm on Friday - and I was mentally and physically exhausted (and in desperate need of a shower). Instead, I went to a party. I was virtually incapable of normal human interaction, and barely remember being there. (I was not under the influence).
The documentary trip I have been on for the last month has brought me places inside my own mind that I had rarely visited, and illuminated things that had never shone.
I did not venture out of the GWA (greater Woodstock area), yet this week was a different kind of journey.
I started the week with a large task at hand - finishing my documentary about my own struggle with weight. The interviews that I shot for this doc. had already changed my life for the better in terms of becoming a happier person. I now had to finish.
There were some obstacles at the beginning of the week (and I wouldn't change them for anything). I had a friend who needed me, and then was hit like a tonne of bricks with a terrible head cold. This made staring at a computer screen to edit impossible. I lost two and a half days of work - I knew I would get through it though.
I brought the essentials to school on Thursday and Friday - slippers, blankie, apples and the will to finish. I looked like a documentary superhero with my hot pink blankie wrapped around my shoulders like a cape, and my brown and beige checked slippers.
This mind-bending journey ended at 9:26pm on Friday - and I was mentally and physically exhausted (and in desperate need of a shower). Instead, I went to a party. I was virtually incapable of normal human interaction, and barely remember being there. (I was not under the influence).
The documentary trip I have been on for the last month has brought me places inside my own mind that I had rarely visited, and illuminated things that had never shone.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
trying too hard
Perhaps my hand at simple analogies was thwarted. I was just rereading my last post and have realized that it simply looks like I am incapable of boiling water.
Moving right along, it seems this world is filled with second, third and sometimes even fourth chances (as was proven here at school this week), so I will continue to try awkward analogies.
What to compare next...mushroom clouds to peas? Hmmm...that might be a bit of a reach. Or, fighting to rainbows? Getting closer, but I digress.
In all honesty, this is me procrastinating finishing my documentary. I should really get on that.
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Watched Pot Always Boils?
I was making rice the other day, and was staring at the pot. I got the old "watched pot never boils" adage stuck in my head, and realized how utterly ridiculous it was. You're applying heat to a container filled with water - it doesn't care whether I'm watching or not - it's going to boil. In fact, when transferring this logic to life (which is what you're supposed to do with old adages I think), sometimes the aforesaid watched pot boils faster.
You're writing a test. You answer one question, skip the second, gaze around the room - only to notice the teacher looking directly at YOU. You immediately put your mind back on the test and quickly scribble through it. You've noticed someone watching you, so you launch into action.
On a more worldwide level, we, as the media, have the ability to illuminate situations in the world, thus inciting change. When we start assigning faces to statistics, that can cause the masses to feel something. It's easy for people to ignore statistics, but when there is a story about a specific girl, with a specific problem, and that story gets lots of attention - things happen. Thus, once it is watched, it boils.
Oh my, it seems the water is boiling now...I can't believe it boiled without me watching.
You're writing a test. You answer one question, skip the second, gaze around the room - only to notice the teacher looking directly at YOU. You immediately put your mind back on the test and quickly scribble through it. You've noticed someone watching you, so you launch into action.
On a more worldwide level, we, as the media, have the ability to illuminate situations in the world, thus inciting change. When we start assigning faces to statistics, that can cause the masses to feel something. It's easy for people to ignore statistics, but when there is a story about a specific girl, with a specific problem, and that story gets lots of attention - things happen. Thus, once it is watched, it boils.
Oh my, it seems the water is boiling now...I can't believe it boiled without me watching.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Masks
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;" (As You Like It Act II: Scene VII, Lines 139-140)
Why is this the case? Are we (collectively) so afraid of ruffling feathers that we stick to social mores? I wonder what the world would be like if we simply exposed ourselves. I wonder if we even know how.
The masks we all wear must serve some sort of purpose. I mean, it would be ridiculous to run around and say exactly what we thought, and did exactly what we wanted all the time. I know I would be arrested if I acted on every impulse I had. I do wish I was brave enough to say some things though.
Yesterday, when I was struck by this idea, I was concerned that we were all ticking time bombs, waiting to explode while living under these social constraints. I know that I am in some ways. I hold on to so much stuff that it bubbles out of me in ways I can't control. It's not typically an explosion though. It's more of a leak (completely unrelated to my last blog entry ;)).
I start off by saying one thing, that I instantly regret; but have said too much to not keep going. Like last week when I was speaking with the Director of Administration, the Principal and two department heads at a meeting and I said, "Nobody parties harder than I do..." I could have just left it at that and been embarrassed later, but no...I turn red, look around and day, "I can't believe I just said that...I feel really stupid now!"
That's a fairly minor case of my verbal diarrhea. There have been much worse.....
But alas, those are stories for other days!
And all the men and women merely players;" (As You Like It Act II: Scene VII, Lines 139-140)
Why is this the case? Are we (collectively) so afraid of ruffling feathers that we stick to social mores? I wonder what the world would be like if we simply exposed ourselves. I wonder if we even know how.
The masks we all wear must serve some sort of purpose. I mean, it would be ridiculous to run around and say exactly what we thought, and did exactly what we wanted all the time. I know I would be arrested if I acted on every impulse I had. I do wish I was brave enough to say some things though.
Yesterday, when I was struck by this idea, I was concerned that we were all ticking time bombs, waiting to explode while living under these social constraints. I know that I am in some ways. I hold on to so much stuff that it bubbles out of me in ways I can't control. It's not typically an explosion though. It's more of a leak (completely unrelated to my last blog entry ;)).
I start off by saying one thing, that I instantly regret; but have said too much to not keep going. Like last week when I was speaking with the Director of Administration, the Principal and two department heads at a meeting and I said, "Nobody parties harder than I do..." I could have just left it at that and been embarrassed later, but no...I turn red, look around and day, "I can't believe I just said that...I feel really stupid now!"
That's a fairly minor case of my verbal diarrhea. There have been much worse.....
But alas, those are stories for other days!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
We've Come A Long Way Baby
In the last little while, I've been fairly forthright with the fact that I was bullied in middle school and the early part of high school. In fact, as the nine followers of this blog know, I'm currently working on a documentary about that very subject (in conjunction with my weight issues).
What I tend to keep to myself is the precise moment that it all began to happen. I have told very few people this. To this day, it still haunts me. Once you read it, it may not seem so bad to you, but it changed my adolescent life (hell, my whole life).
In Grade 6, I was a member of the chess club at Lakefield Elementary School in Quispamsis, N.B. I had just moved their from Ontario, and had made a couple of friends who lived on my street. Being part of the chess club is not what continues to haunt me, haha.
One afternoon, during chess club, I realize that I needed to use the facilities, and had for a couple of hours. I swiftly make my way to the washroom - it was locked.
I danced back to the classroom (the oh-my-god-if-I-don't-pee-soon-I'm-going-to-die kinda dance), and resumed my position playing against Jill O'Reilly, if I'm not mistaken. I shifted, and I squeezed and I shifted some more. Relieving the pressure on my bladder had to happen in a big way.
(Sidebar: I also had a hairdresser who thought it a good idea to cut my hair short, and then put sideburns on me. Yes, I was a really attractive eleven year-old and I was the same 5'6.5" that i am right now. I was the tallest kid in school - awkward).
I was also reasonably shy (pick your jaws up off the floor, it's true), and I didn't think to ask Mr. White to unlock the bathroom. If I could go back, things would be different.
So, I'm squirming and squeezing, and finally, as I could feel my back teeth floating, I rationalized to myself that if I just let a little bit out, it would relieve some of the pressure.
NOT A GOOD IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As you all well know, once you start the stream, it cannot be stopped.
I then found myself in a pool of my own warm urine. And the laughter erupted, and never stopped.
The next morning, I got on the bus, and all I heard was a chorus of 'SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.' People continued to think this was a funny joke for a solid year after it happened....then began everything else those bastards could possibly pick on. My hair, my height, my weight, my speech, my marks (which were excellent at the time), everything. And I had no one. This feeling has followed me around for quite some time.
Even in the last few years, when I've picked up some AMAZING friends, I was always worried that if I didn't go along with what they wanted, they wouldn't be my friend anymore. I realize that is a ridiculous rationale; however, a little self-esteem goes a long way.
Fast forward to this very evening. I'm out at the pub, and didn't order anything myself, which is fine. My dear friend Laurel buys a pitcher of beer, and shares a glass. My dear friend Geoff buys a plate of nachos, and shares a few chips. The evening is winding down, and I ask Lisa, my favourite bartender, to get me a glass of water. She comes out with a double purple haze (which was my drink of choice last year) and speaks about how much she loves me as a customer, and how real I am...then the people who were out with me join in the chorus of accolades, and I was overwhelmed. I left the table in tears of joy and gratitude for the life I now have.
I'm in a position to actually argue with someone, and have other people to fall back on. Essentially, I have the ability to form a backbone, and not worry that it's going to leave me alone, wishing for ANYONE to call me. It's taken nearly 26 years, but I'm here, I've made it. Maybe not in the Capitalistic American dream sort of way; but, in the I'm a worthy person kind of way.
To quote Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, "I'm not Josie Grosie anymore!" I'm not the little girl who let jackasses follow her around and whisper, "SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," anymore. (Perhaps not as catchy as Josie Grossie, but hey, it's not a hollywood script......yet).
What I tend to keep to myself is the precise moment that it all began to happen. I have told very few people this. To this day, it still haunts me. Once you read it, it may not seem so bad to you, but it changed my adolescent life (hell, my whole life).
In Grade 6, I was a member of the chess club at Lakefield Elementary School in Quispamsis, N.B. I had just moved their from Ontario, and had made a couple of friends who lived on my street. Being part of the chess club is not what continues to haunt me, haha.
One afternoon, during chess club, I realize that I needed to use the facilities, and had for a couple of hours. I swiftly make my way to the washroom - it was locked.
I danced back to the classroom (the oh-my-god-if-I-don't-pee-soon-I'm-going-to-die kinda dance), and resumed my position playing against Jill O'Reilly, if I'm not mistaken. I shifted, and I squeezed and I shifted some more. Relieving the pressure on my bladder had to happen in a big way.
(Sidebar: I also had a hairdresser who thought it a good idea to cut my hair short, and then put sideburns on me. Yes, I was a really attractive eleven year-old and I was the same 5'6.5" that i am right now. I was the tallest kid in school - awkward).
I was also reasonably shy (pick your jaws up off the floor, it's true), and I didn't think to ask Mr. White to unlock the bathroom. If I could go back, things would be different.
So, I'm squirming and squeezing, and finally, as I could feel my back teeth floating, I rationalized to myself that if I just let a little bit out, it would relieve some of the pressure.
NOT A GOOD IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As you all well know, once you start the stream, it cannot be stopped.
I then found myself in a pool of my own warm urine. And the laughter erupted, and never stopped.
The next morning, I got on the bus, and all I heard was a chorus of 'SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.' People continued to think this was a funny joke for a solid year after it happened....then began everything else those bastards could possibly pick on. My hair, my height, my weight, my speech, my marks (which were excellent at the time), everything. And I had no one. This feeling has followed me around for quite some time.
Even in the last few years, when I've picked up some AMAZING friends, I was always worried that if I didn't go along with what they wanted, they wouldn't be my friend anymore. I realize that is a ridiculous rationale; however, a little self-esteem goes a long way.
Fast forward to this very evening. I'm out at the pub, and didn't order anything myself, which is fine. My dear friend Laurel buys a pitcher of beer, and shares a glass. My dear friend Geoff buys a plate of nachos, and shares a few chips. The evening is winding down, and I ask Lisa, my favourite bartender, to get me a glass of water. She comes out with a double purple haze (which was my drink of choice last year) and speaks about how much she loves me as a customer, and how real I am...then the people who were out with me join in the chorus of accolades, and I was overwhelmed. I left the table in tears of joy and gratitude for the life I now have.
I'm in a position to actually argue with someone, and have other people to fall back on. Essentially, I have the ability to form a backbone, and not worry that it's going to leave me alone, wishing for ANYONE to call me. It's taken nearly 26 years, but I'm here, I've made it. Maybe not in the Capitalistic American dream sort of way; but, in the I'm a worthy person kind of way.
To quote Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, "I'm not Josie Grosie anymore!" I'm not the little girl who let jackasses follow her around and whisper, "SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," anymore. (Perhaps not as catchy as Josie Grossie, but hey, it's not a hollywood script......yet).
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Journalism
I was just reading on cbc.ca that over 100 journalists died on the job in 2008. Part of me thinks it's so unnecessary to have journalists on the front lines with soldiers. I mean, is it helpful to our society to know every little detail about Iraq, and do people listen anyway?
My opinion is that we, collectively, have become completely desensitized to what is broadcast, that it is ineffective to have photographers and videographers right on the front lines.
For one, it tends to eliminate effective writing, which has the ability to be equally as powerful. And furthermore, is it worth it to lose anymore people than necessary in wars that are not necessary to begin with?
Having said all this, there's a part of me who would love to be on the front lines talking to soldiers, learning their stories, etc. Would it be worth my life? Not likely.
My opinion is that we, collectively, have become completely desensitized to what is broadcast, that it is ineffective to have photographers and videographers right on the front lines.
For one, it tends to eliminate effective writing, which has the ability to be equally as powerful. And furthermore, is it worth it to lose anymore people than necessary in wars that are not necessary to begin with?
Having said all this, there's a part of me who would love to be on the front lines talking to soldiers, learning their stories, etc. Would it be worth my life? Not likely.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Wicked Cool Find
Presumably if you're reading this, you know who I am. I really don't have to explain why the $2.50 thrift store purchase yesterday was perfect. Let me see if I can illustrate it.
T R O M
B
O
N
E
is what it says on a white, crew-neck sweatshirt. As you can well-imagine, I'm currently wearing this fabulous sweatshirt. I look like a Wham wannabe, honestly. Speaking of old things, I claimed to have never blogged before this year–I lied. I'm going to copy/paste a livejournal entry from July 2004. Keep in mind, I was a third-year English major at the time, and also be mindful of my ridiculous amount of excitement concerning my trombone shirt. Enough pre-amble.
Current mood: | nerdy and nostalgic |
| Current music: | Haydn's trumpet concerto in E flat |
As I sit here listening to some of Haydn's best work, I seem to embrace my inner band geek:p I sure miss that stuff, and I know I could easily join a band, but what I really miss is my Dixie Combo and My Brass Quintet (oh jon, alex, devin!! i miss being in a band with them....and it's just not the same as it ever was...we've grown up and grown apart:() it's all good, i mean, i have great friends, yay!! it's just not the same as my band geeks!!!! and what's most amusing is that i never hung out with these guys outside of band and school, so the connection that was developed was from years of melding our sounds into one!! i mean, outside of that context, im not even that big of fan of some of these guys (alex white is my arch nemesis!!!!![and it's cool that i have one:p]).
i dont know what brought that on: oh right, good ole Haydn....hehe......
Ahh...nostalgia is starting to set in (i must be growing up, sigh). I'm disappointed that I havent had my "epiphanic moment" though (ahh,,,the good ole passage from innocence to experience) anyway, this is starting to ramble.......sorry....
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