If anyone's ever struggled with any kind of addiction, they understand what rock bottom is. I realize that food, and more specifically, weight may not seem like an addiction, but it is, and can be as harmful as any other. In fact, it's an addiction that's impossible to quit cold turkey because one must eat to survive. It takes the utmost willpower and control to kick a food addiction's ass, and like every other addiction, it's a battle every single day.
My mother has battled her addiction as long as she can remember. About 10 years ago, she lost a significant amount of weight, and has managed to keep it off -- she looks fantastic. When I was home this weekend, I realized that she still, even after a decade, beats herself up every single time she missteps. It's really unfair. It doesn't matter how good she looks, she still manages to make herself feel like shit.
Anyway, I hit my rock bottom with my own food addiction.
A combination of factors (a reunion, a realization that I'm limited in my mobility, and a will to live past the age of 35) prompted me to try a system that worked for me once before -- Simply for Life. It may not be a perfect system, but I truly need the discipline of it at this juncture. I met with the lady, Wendy, there this afternoon after work. We had a lovely conversation; she will send me my menu and grocery list tomorrow.
Before we were finished, I had to have the dreaded weigh in. After having lost some weight in the new year, I didn't think it would be higher than my starting weight before...I was wrong, oh so wrong.
The most mortifying and horrible moment in the world was when I realized that I weighed as much as a family. I wanted to die on the spot. I yelled, 'HOLY FUCK,' and then quickly apologized for swearing. I hardly listened to the last bit of what Wendy told me; I gave her my money and made it to my car parked outside. I started to cry, and then called my mom, who knows all too well how I felt/feel.
I realize that it's good that I found out in the place where I'm starting to do something about it. I never want to feel that feeling again. I HATED myself in that moment. It was a complete and utter lack of control, and I'm used to being IN control. Anyway, tomorrow's a new day, with a new lifestyle, with the same old me.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Katelin Dean's Love Blog
I feel privileged to muse about many things in my weekly column in the Bugle-Observer, which means that I don't update this blog as often as I probably should.
I have the opportunity to talk about politics, issues that are close to my heart like bullying and depression, and also to have my say on current events.
What I don't often write about is love; in fact, this blog's name could change to The Katelin Dean's Love Blog....
Since I haven't updated it since April 1, it seems that my love life is a little lackluster.
Though I'm a confident, single woman, there's a part of me that doesn't want to be single any longer; however, I'm really not willing to settle for just anyone. My goals are not to get married and have kids, though if those things happen, I'll welcome them with open arms. I'm focused on my career, and extra-curricular activities, but there's definitely room in my heart for more.
I have tried the world of internet dating, which is definitely great for accumulating stories about terrible dates. I think the worst part is that some guys come off so well in emails, but are absolutely insane in person.
There was the 24-year-old-biological-clock-is-ticking guy, and the did-you-know-aliens-walked-the-earth;-it-says-so-in-Genesis guy....both absolutely charming *insert eye roll here*.
I have had crushes on friends, which typically results in an awkward and/or upsetting conversation about how valuable our friendship is, which I'm always thankful for in retrospect, because the longer I live, the more importance I place on being open and honest with feelings, even though it's really, really hard.
And I've had crushes on co-workers through the years, which seems to work for many people, but has never panned out for me.
I'm not entirely sure where to go from here, and I'm not one of those girls with a list of qualities that I'm looking for...but I do know this:
I obviously want someone honest, hard-working, etc...but, the key for me is for him to be passionate, intelligent and funny.
He can be passionate about anything, whether it's sports, music, films, whatever, as long as he has something so I can pursue my passions without feeling guilty about dedicating time.
Intelligence does not necessarily equate to being educated, though it could.
And as for being funny, it's ok if he's not cracking one-liners all the time, but if you don't get my jokes, I'm exceptionally annoying, and that would never work.
I have the opportunity to talk about politics, issues that are close to my heart like bullying and depression, and also to have my say on current events.
What I don't often write about is love; in fact, this blog's name could change to The Katelin Dean's Love Blog....
Since I haven't updated it since April 1, it seems that my love life is a little lackluster.
Though I'm a confident, single woman, there's a part of me that doesn't want to be single any longer; however, I'm really not willing to settle for just anyone. My goals are not to get married and have kids, though if those things happen, I'll welcome them with open arms. I'm focused on my career, and extra-curricular activities, but there's definitely room in my heart for more.
I have tried the world of internet dating, which is definitely great for accumulating stories about terrible dates. I think the worst part is that some guys come off so well in emails, but are absolutely insane in person.
There was the 24-year-old-biological-clock-is-ticking guy, and the did-you-know-aliens-walked-the-earth;-it-says-so-in-Genesis guy....both absolutely charming *insert eye roll here*.
I have had crushes on friends, which typically results in an awkward and/or upsetting conversation about how valuable our friendship is, which I'm always thankful for in retrospect, because the longer I live, the more importance I place on being open and honest with feelings, even though it's really, really hard.
And I've had crushes on co-workers through the years, which seems to work for many people, but has never panned out for me.
I'm not entirely sure where to go from here, and I'm not one of those girls with a list of qualities that I'm looking for...but I do know this:
I obviously want someone honest, hard-working, etc...but, the key for me is for him to be passionate, intelligent and funny.
He can be passionate about anything, whether it's sports, music, films, whatever, as long as he has something so I can pursue my passions without feeling guilty about dedicating time.
Intelligence does not necessarily equate to being educated, though it could.
And as for being funny, it's ok if he's not cracking one-liners all the time, but if you don't get my jokes, I'm exceptionally annoying, and that would never work.
Friday, April 1, 2011
I believe in love...
...but I think I'll be single forever - and that's ok.
Life isn't really that complicated. We're born; we live for awhile; then we die. The first people we meet are our parents (after the doctor or birth coach or whatever) and that, for the most part, is a pretty uncomplicated relationship. They feed us, clothe us, bathe us and prepare us for the big scary world - kinda.
I'm a worrier. I don't often like to admit that, but I am. When I was a teenager, I used to worry that my parents were going to die in a car accident. Now I'm mostly worried about happiness of the people around me. I'm extremely impacted by the emotions of others. I don't even mean or want to be most of the time, but if someone's down - I not only want, but need to see them happy; when there's tension floating in the air, you can be rest assured that my stomach is in knots. Sleep is often an issue.
The obvious thing to do would just be to stop....if only it were that easy.
Having said all of that, when I'm so wrapped up in my worried head all the time, it makes it hard to let go and open myself up for love. Maybe I've watched too many romantic comedies, or have a bit of a Prince Charming complex, but I've always believed that someone would tear down the armour I shield myself with and force me to see the light. Reality tells me that's not going to happen. People always say love strikes them when they least expect it, but I don't know. I feel like I develop these feelings for men, and instead of following the normal path of flirting, or whatever, I over-think until I'm incapable of even formulating sentences... and when I do, they're the least flirtatious or romantic things I could possibly say, which is why I'm destined for a life of being single.
I still feel, and have crushes and I'm pretty sure I want to be in love, but sometimes I feel like a sad robot. That's really silly, I realize...but alas - so am I.
If by chance you read this, I like you. I look forward to walking by your office, and when your door is open, it makes my heart smile - and when you say hello, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. How do I let you know?
Life isn't really that complicated. We're born; we live for awhile; then we die. The first people we meet are our parents (after the doctor or birth coach or whatever) and that, for the most part, is a pretty uncomplicated relationship. They feed us, clothe us, bathe us and prepare us for the big scary world - kinda.
I'm a worrier. I don't often like to admit that, but I am. When I was a teenager, I used to worry that my parents were going to die in a car accident. Now I'm mostly worried about happiness of the people around me. I'm extremely impacted by the emotions of others. I don't even mean or want to be most of the time, but if someone's down - I not only want, but need to see them happy; when there's tension floating in the air, you can be rest assured that my stomach is in knots. Sleep is often an issue.
The obvious thing to do would just be to stop....if only it were that easy.
Having said all of that, when I'm so wrapped up in my worried head all the time, it makes it hard to let go and open myself up for love. Maybe I've watched too many romantic comedies, or have a bit of a Prince Charming complex, but I've always believed that someone would tear down the armour I shield myself with and force me to see the light. Reality tells me that's not going to happen. People always say love strikes them when they least expect it, but I don't know. I feel like I develop these feelings for men, and instead of following the normal path of flirting, or whatever, I over-think until I'm incapable of even formulating sentences... and when I do, they're the least flirtatious or romantic things I could possibly say, which is why I'm destined for a life of being single.
I still feel, and have crushes and I'm pretty sure I want to be in love, but sometimes I feel like a sad robot. That's really silly, I realize...but alas - so am I.
If by chance you read this, I like you. I look forward to walking by your office, and when your door is open, it makes my heart smile - and when you say hello, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. How do I let you know?
Friday, December 31, 2010
au'revoir 2010, bonjour 2011!!
You say goodbye, and I say hello, hello hello, I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello.
To my family: thank you for always being there and for making me who I am.
To my friends: I love you all dearly. Thank you for making my life great! Please do the right thing, and if you don't, do the wrong thing for the right reasons.
To my foe: thank you for keeping me on my toes.
To 2010: whoa! what a year.
To 2011: bring it on, whatever it may be.
To my past: may you continue to teach.
To my present: what a gift.
To my future: it's with an open heart and an open mind that I move forward.
To my family: thank you for always being there and for making me who I am.
To my friends: I love you all dearly. Thank you for making my life great! Please do the right thing, and if you don't, do the wrong thing for the right reasons.
To my foe: thank you for keeping me on my toes.
To 2010: whoa! what a year.
To 2011: bring it on, whatever it may be.
To my past: may you continue to teach.
To my present: what a gift.
To my future: it's with an open heart and an open mind that I move forward.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Dear Blog
It seems I have been neglecting you as of late. It's not that I don't have anything to say, trust me.
I am filled with opinions on love, politics, friendship, work and many things in between.
Though I got my start with you, it seems my opinion writing is printed weekly in the newspaper. You allowed me to rant when I needed it most, and I'm sorry for leaving you behind.
Here are 10 personal truths running through my brain currently:
1) A facebook friend request is not a marriage proposal. Don't worry about it.
2) Social networking is a two-way street. When you open up the flood-gates, you can't control what might spill out.
3) I want/need to write the novel in my head; however, I am afraid.
4) Seeing a happy couple get married inspires me, but doesn't make me jealous.
5) I miss being a journalist. I'm not sure it's possible to go back. In fact, I know it's impossible.
6) I need to travel. There's no good reason why I can't travel more often.
7) I love my family.
8) I love my friends.
9) It's tough learning who you can count on and who you can't.
10)It's also a tough lesson learning that it's as important to be a solid post for someone to lean on, as it is for them to be your post. Both increase strength.
11)I'm not ready to settle down.
12)I have no idea what's next!
13)I'm ok with that.
I am filled with opinions on love, politics, friendship, work and many things in between.
Though I got my start with you, it seems my opinion writing is printed weekly in the newspaper. You allowed me to rant when I needed it most, and I'm sorry for leaving you behind.
Here are 10 personal truths running through my brain currently:
1) A facebook friend request is not a marriage proposal. Don't worry about it.
2) Social networking is a two-way street. When you open up the flood-gates, you can't control what might spill out.
3) I want/need to write the novel in my head; however, I am afraid.
4) Seeing a happy couple get married inspires me, but doesn't make me jealous.
5) I miss being a journalist. I'm not sure it's possible to go back. In fact, I know it's impossible.
6) I need to travel. There's no good reason why I can't travel more often.
7) I love my family.
8) I love my friends.
9) It's tough learning who you can count on and who you can't.
10)It's also a tough lesson learning that it's as important to be a solid post for someone to lean on, as it is for them to be your post. Both increase strength.
11)I'm not ready to settle down.
12)I have no idea what's next!
13)I'm ok with that.
Monday, June 21, 2010
I'll give this a whirl: 99 things
Bolded are the things I've done. Try this. Thanks m.
1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more to charity than you could afford to
7. been to disney8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sung a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited Paris
13. watched a thunder and lightning storm
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen Michelangelo’s David in person
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted - (drawn)
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistine chapel in person
50. been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theater
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies
62. gone whale watching
63. gotten flowers for no reason
64. donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. been sky diving
66. visited a concentration camp
67. bounced a check
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guard in London
77. broken a bone
78. been a passenger on a motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the Vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper -
85. kissed a stranger at midnight on new year’s eve
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. gotten a tattoo
94. had a baby
95. seen the Alamo in person
96. swam in the great salt lake
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee
1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more to charity than you could afford to
7. been to disney8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sung a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited Paris
13. watched a thunder and lightning storm
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen Michelangelo’s David in person
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted - (drawn)
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistine chapel in person
50. been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theater
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies
62. gone whale watching
63. gotten flowers for no reason
64. donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. been sky diving
66. visited a concentration camp
67. bounced a check
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guard in London
77. broken a bone
78. been a passenger on a motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the Vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper -
85. kissed a stranger at midnight on new year’s eve
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. gotten a tattoo
94. had a baby
95. seen the Alamo in person
96. swam in the great salt lake
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee
Saturday, March 27, 2010
dear sister
It seems as though I left you off of my birthday thank you list.
I'm thankful for you every day. The things I learned because of your sheer existence astounds me on a regular basis. You taught me how to share and that I wasn't the centre of the universe and that was without even trying.
Now, as adults, you level out my drama and sometimes even cook me supper. I feel so blessed to have a sister who is, not only super smart and kind, but also honest. I value your opinions greatly and I couldn't think of a better person to call one of my best friends.
Mom used to say, "well, i love you, but i don't have to like you all thetime" well sister, I do love you and I like you too! i'm glad we live in the same town.
moo sistah forever!
I'm thankful for you every day. The things I learned because of your sheer existence astounds me on a regular basis. You taught me how to share and that I wasn't the centre of the universe and that was without even trying.
Now, as adults, you level out my drama and sometimes even cook me supper. I feel so blessed to have a sister who is, not only super smart and kind, but also honest. I value your opinions greatly and I couldn't think of a better person to call one of my best friends.
Mom used to say, "well, i love you, but i don't have to like you all thetime" well sister, I do love you and I like you too! i'm glad we live in the same town.
moo sistah forever!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
flip turned upside down
this blog's a story all about how
my job got flip turned upside down
now i'd like to take a minute
just sit right there
i'll tell you all a little story
about the writer katelin dean
in saint john new brunswick
born and raised
in the band class
is where i spent most of my days
playin' hardcore
on the slide trombone
then stoppin' some white balls
in the soccer field
when a few years later
i picked up a pen
jotted a few lines
then i began again
wrote one little poem
and i changed my mind
said i'm going to unbsj
english will be fine
not too long after
i was flipping boards
selling wee deckscrews and power tools
all at the same time
i kept writin' my rhymes
and realized soon
i had to find more time
short months later
i was at nbcc
tryin' my hand at radio and tv
soon found out
the pen still called my name
started at the paper
and things were never the same
now i'm winnin' awards
and gettin' new jobs
with lots mo' cash
and my own four walls
i thought man forget it
go home write for the college
my job got flip turned upside down
now i'd like to take a minute
just sit right there
i'll tell you all a little story
about the writer katelin dean
in saint john new brunswick
born and raised
in the band class
is where i spent most of my days
playin' hardcore
on the slide trombone
then stoppin' some white balls
in the soccer field
when a few years later
i picked up a pen
jotted a few lines
then i began again
wrote one little poem
and i changed my mind
said i'm going to unbsj
english will be fine
not too long after
i was flipping boards
selling wee deckscrews and power tools
all at the same time
i kept writin' my rhymes
and realized soon
i had to find more time
short months later
i was at nbcc
tryin' my hand at radio and tv
soon found out
the pen still called my name
started at the paper
and things were never the same
now i'm winnin' awards
and gettin' new jobs
with lots mo' cash
and my own four walls
i thought man forget it
go home write for the college
Thursday, March 11, 2010
thankful
one. thankful for having so many lovely friends.
two. thankful for my super fulfilling job.
three. thankful for my roommates.
four. thankful for my parents and everything they've given me.
five. thankful for friends who can cook.
six. thankful for RiVA.
seven. thankful for NBCC.
eight. thankful for Theresa Blackburn.
nine. thankful for the column I write, which prevents me from updating this regularly.
ten. thankful for being back on stage.
Ultimately, I'm thankful for my life. I'm thankful for all of the people in it - friend or foe - because without you, I wouldn't be me. happy birthday to me because Your presence is present enough!
two. thankful for my super fulfilling job.
three. thankful for my roommates.
four. thankful for my parents and everything they've given me.
five. thankful for friends who can cook.
six. thankful for RiVA.
seven. thankful for NBCC.
eight. thankful for Theresa Blackburn.
nine. thankful for the column I write, which prevents me from updating this regularly.
ten. thankful for being back on stage.
Ultimately, I'm thankful for my life. I'm thankful for all of the people in it - friend or foe - because without you, I wouldn't be me. happy birthday to me because Your presence is present enough!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
hey, you've got to hide your love away
There's really nothing quite like the feeling of having a crush on someone. Your heart skips a beat when you accidentally (or not-so-accidentally) touch or your cheeks flush when he says your name. The excitement of wondering when you'll see him again is reason enough to get through the day.
After this stage, things have the tendency to get complicated.
But the crush, oh the crush is a wonderful thing. So fresh, so new.
Unless it's not new.
What if this crush has caught you completely by surprise?
Say this person, this man, who you once had a crush on is now a great friend (who admittedly you don't spend enough time with. Months pass, and then, on a winter's day you run into him in some lunchtime establishment, and you find yourself giving him a hug. Completely normal, right?
A week later, you spot him online on the internet and feel compelled to say hello to this old friend. The conversation is pleasant and you decide to go see a movie (the sappiest of sappy sad romantic movies that inevitably make you cry). This friend/former crush comforts you, rubs your arm, then all of a sudden you're holding hands. The act in itself is quite innocent, it's what happens inside of you.
All of the heart flutters are back, but it's different this time. You don't have a crush on what you think this person might be, you have a crush on this person you know well.
Spending time is comfortable and somehow newly exciting. And you second-guess your feelings because it would be absolutely crazy to feel this way again. Seriously. Seriously.
It doesn't make any sense...
well blogosphere, in case you didn't figure it out, the you in this scenario is me.
Happy (completely commercial and overrated) Valentine's Day.
After this stage, things have the tendency to get complicated.
But the crush, oh the crush is a wonderful thing. So fresh, so new.
Unless it's not new.
What if this crush has caught you completely by surprise?
Say this person, this man, who you once had a crush on is now a great friend (who admittedly you don't spend enough time with. Months pass, and then, on a winter's day you run into him in some lunchtime establishment, and you find yourself giving him a hug. Completely normal, right?
A week later, you spot him online on the internet and feel compelled to say hello to this old friend. The conversation is pleasant and you decide to go see a movie (the sappiest of sappy sad romantic movies that inevitably make you cry). This friend/former crush comforts you, rubs your arm, then all of a sudden you're holding hands. The act in itself is quite innocent, it's what happens inside of you.
All of the heart flutters are back, but it's different this time. You don't have a crush on what you think this person might be, you have a crush on this person you know well.
Spending time is comfortable and somehow newly exciting. And you second-guess your feelings because it would be absolutely crazy to feel this way again. Seriously. Seriously.
It doesn't make any sense...
well blogosphere, in case you didn't figure it out, the you in this scenario is me.
Happy (completely commercial and overrated) Valentine's Day.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
New Beginnings and Fresh Starts
I started this blog about a year ago as part of a school assignment. Before then, I thought blogs were the worst thing on the face of the planet. I thought they were self-indulgent (which they are) and I used to think that people who spilled their guts on the internet should invest in a diary. Alas, I'm again wrong. Well, maybe I'm not, but I do it anyway.
In the past year, I made a documentary about myself and how I was bullied in school, I've had a nervous break down, I've gained more friends than I've ever had in my entire life, I've begun working, I've let myself get angry and hurt for stupid reasons, I've fallen in love, I've had my heart broken, I've travelled to Nicaragua, I've helped organize a successful Arts festival in a small town and more.
Also in the past year, what began as a school project (this blog) has been used as a way to communicate deep feelings and as a promotional tool to entice people to go to the previously mentioned Arts Festival. It's truly wonderful that this forum exists.
Today, I changed its layout to reflect me. Blue is my favourite colour. My life isn't blue. Actually, my life is probably more frantic like red or orange. Sometimes I feel blue, but I generally appear pretty sunshiny like yellow. Ultimately, the last year has taught me how to be me. I'm still learning how to do that every day...but it's a comin'.
A former classmate/friend is currently making a documentary about me. In his proposal, he described me as stressful, frantic (or some word like that) and happy-go-lucky. It's a pretty funny and apt description.
Dear Friends (you know who you are), so happy for you. :) And I'm happy for me too. I'm so happy to have so many wonderful people in my life. When I'm feeling blue, it's good to know that I have people to turn to.
For awhile, it seems, I've been "lookin' for love in all the wrong places" and there have been plenty of fine guys with fine faces, but none have faced my way. And that's ok.
To conclude...if your patient enough to continue to check this blog, this is for you...a little diddy I used to listen to on a weekly basis:
Thank you for bein' a friend
Travelled down the road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidante
If you threw a party
Invited everyone you knew
You would see
The biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say
Thank you for bein' a friend
In the past year, I made a documentary about myself and how I was bullied in school, I've had a nervous break down, I've gained more friends than I've ever had in my entire life, I've begun working, I've let myself get angry and hurt for stupid reasons, I've fallen in love, I've had my heart broken, I've travelled to Nicaragua, I've helped organize a successful Arts festival in a small town and more.
Also in the past year, what began as a school project (this blog) has been used as a way to communicate deep feelings and as a promotional tool to entice people to go to the previously mentioned Arts Festival. It's truly wonderful that this forum exists.
Today, I changed its layout to reflect me. Blue is my favourite colour. My life isn't blue. Actually, my life is probably more frantic like red or orange. Sometimes I feel blue, but I generally appear pretty sunshiny like yellow. Ultimately, the last year has taught me how to be me. I'm still learning how to do that every day...but it's a comin'.
A former classmate/friend is currently making a documentary about me. In his proposal, he described me as stressful, frantic (or some word like that) and happy-go-lucky. It's a pretty funny and apt description.
Dear Friends (you know who you are), so happy for you. :) And I'm happy for me too. I'm so happy to have so many wonderful people in my life. When I'm feeling blue, it's good to know that I have people to turn to.
For awhile, it seems, I've been "lookin' for love in all the wrong places" and there have been plenty of fine guys with fine faces, but none have faced my way. And that's ok.
To conclude...if your patient enough to continue to check this blog, this is for you...a little diddy I used to listen to on a weekly basis:
Thank you for bein' a friend
Travelled down the road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidante
If you threw a party
Invited everyone you knew
You would see
The biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say
Thank you for bein' a friend
Monday, December 14, 2009
woman's worth-Dec. 8's Bugle-Obersver
A woman's worth; Overreaction to tasteless comment
Bugle-Observer
Tue Dec 8 2009
Page: A4
Section: Opinion
Byline: Katelin Dean
"Girls, we need to make more babies or we will never be able to support our future," York MLA Carl Urquhart wrote on his Facebook page the other day much to the chagrin of Liberal MLA Joan MacAlpine-Stiles.
Though it wasn't the most intelligent comment in the world and I agree with some criticism of this statement, I think McAlpine-Stiles blew it out of proportion to steer attention away from her decision to support the premier's plan to sell NB Power.
Of course I think it's wrong to imply that a woman's only role is to pop babies out. I also realize that with baby boomers well on their way to retirement, the province requires tax dollars from a workforce to fill the financial void that will be created. This workforce can be created by increasing the population in the traditional sense - through procreation. Or, the government can work harder on immigration and bring forth population growth that way.
And, as a political figure, Urquhart should have been much more conscientious while posting on his Facebook page.
Though, as someone who uses Facebook and writes a blog, we often post these things without really examining the repercussions. My guess is that Urquhart was looking to the future of the province and realized population needs to grow to maintain the tax dollars that are coming in. When posting on Facebook or a blog or Twitter or some other social networking tool, a quick thought can be expressed and broadcast in a few seconds.
As a female MLA from the opposite party, MacAlpine-Stiles swiftly criticized Urquhart's statement, as she should have.
What I find troubling was the timing.
In the same day, I read the story about her chastising him regarding his insensitive comment and then, further down on the page, read a story about how she has decided to vote with her party regarding the sale of NB Power. She originally told the media she hadn't read the MOU and would vote with her conscious when she decided. It's so convenient she was able to wave a shiny object - a woman's rights issue - to detract from something much more prevalent.
The sale of NB Power is an extremely heated and much-debated issue in the province right now.
While she found what Urquhart said "unspeakably offensive," many in the province would find her decision to vote in favour of the sale of NB Power equally as offensive and there's no doubt in my mind that she'd have some concept of the political gravity of her decision.
While I am well aware of how hard women have worked for equality and to shed the image of being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, I think using a woman's issue to detract from another political decision is offensive to me as an egalitarian.
Bugle-Observer
Tue Dec 8 2009
Page: A4
Section: Opinion
Byline: Katelin Dean
"Girls, we need to make more babies or we will never be able to support our future," York MLA Carl Urquhart wrote on his Facebook page the other day much to the chagrin of Liberal MLA Joan MacAlpine-Stiles.
Though it wasn't the most intelligent comment in the world and I agree with some criticism of this statement, I think McAlpine-Stiles blew it out of proportion to steer attention away from her decision to support the premier's plan to sell NB Power.
Of course I think it's wrong to imply that a woman's only role is to pop babies out. I also realize that with baby boomers well on their way to retirement, the province requires tax dollars from a workforce to fill the financial void that will be created. This workforce can be created by increasing the population in the traditional sense - through procreation. Or, the government can work harder on immigration and bring forth population growth that way.
And, as a political figure, Urquhart should have been much more conscientious while posting on his Facebook page.
Though, as someone who uses Facebook and writes a blog, we often post these things without really examining the repercussions. My guess is that Urquhart was looking to the future of the province and realized population needs to grow to maintain the tax dollars that are coming in. When posting on Facebook or a blog or Twitter or some other social networking tool, a quick thought can be expressed and broadcast in a few seconds.
As a female MLA from the opposite party, MacAlpine-Stiles swiftly criticized Urquhart's statement, as she should have.
What I find troubling was the timing.
In the same day, I read the story about her chastising him regarding his insensitive comment and then, further down on the page, read a story about how she has decided to vote with her party regarding the sale of NB Power. She originally told the media she hadn't read the MOU and would vote with her conscious when she decided. It's so convenient she was able to wave a shiny object - a woman's rights issue - to detract from something much more prevalent.
The sale of NB Power is an extremely heated and much-debated issue in the province right now.
While she found what Urquhart said "unspeakably offensive," many in the province would find her decision to vote in favour of the sale of NB Power equally as offensive and there's no doubt in my mind that she'd have some concept of the political gravity of her decision.
While I am well aware of how hard women have worked for equality and to shed the image of being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, I think using a woman's issue to detract from another political decision is offensive to me as an egalitarian.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
As appearing in Dec. 1's Bugle-Observer
Since the bugle-observer is offline, i decided to post today's column here.
By Katelin Dean
John Lennon said, "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."
In high school I didn't have many friends, though there were phases that were pretty typical of a teenage girl.
One time, I was excited about four girls who let me hang out with them during school and my mom let me invite the four of them over for a sleepover in Grade 9.
We stayed up most of the night talking about boys we had crushes on, putting make up on each other and watching movies.
It, incidentally, was the weekend Tim Hortons' introduced Iced Cappuccinos, and we lived within walking distance to a Tim Hortons.
Picture this: five 14-year-old girls, too much caffeine and talking about what our lives would be like when we were older.
We talked about getting married to the boy of our dreams (or at least who we thought was cute at the time), having kids and having wonderful careers.
I know I had it all planned out.
I was going to marry the French horn player from my high school band. We were going to have a terrific swing band – comprised of the people in our high school band – play our wedding reception and over 200 people would be there to see us celebrate our undying love for one another.
Then, after our honeymoon in Rome, we would come back and I was going to be a civil engineer – just like my dad – and he would be a professor.
I planned for us to have one child when I turned 25. Her name was going to be Abbey Rae – named after my two grandfathers. I wanted to have Abbey at 25, so I would still be fairly young when she went off to university because the French horn player and I would still have a lot of living left to do.
This, of course, was unbeknownst to him. But to me, once I admitted it to these four girls, it was real.
It seems hilarious now, as a 26-year-old single gal
I maintained a fairly close friendship with two of these for ladies for the past 12 years, though it has been sporadic, and they came to visit me this weekend.
Just before going to sleep on Saturday night, we reminisced about the over-caffienated sleepover so many years ago and how our lives are so much different than we had planned.
If you're reading this column, you know that I'm not designing bridges for you to drive on as a civil engineer.
As for the French horn player, he is playing bass in a reasonably popular pop/rock band in Halifax and is in a long-term relationship with a woman he met after university.
And as for me, I am super single with no immediate plans of entering a relationship or having little Abbey Rae.
Until fairly recently, I worried about when I was going to marry and have kids, but now, I'm just living life and having a good time.
Though it's different from the plan I had originally crafted as a young teenager, my life is working out pretty well overall.
John Lennon was right.
By Katelin Dean
John Lennon said, "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."
In high school I didn't have many friends, though there were phases that were pretty typical of a teenage girl.
One time, I was excited about four girls who let me hang out with them during school and my mom let me invite the four of them over for a sleepover in Grade 9.
We stayed up most of the night talking about boys we had crushes on, putting make up on each other and watching movies.
It, incidentally, was the weekend Tim Hortons' introduced Iced Cappuccinos, and we lived within walking distance to a Tim Hortons.
Picture this: five 14-year-old girls, too much caffeine and talking about what our lives would be like when we were older.
We talked about getting married to the boy of our dreams (or at least who we thought was cute at the time), having kids and having wonderful careers.
I know I had it all planned out.
I was going to marry the French horn player from my high school band. We were going to have a terrific swing band – comprised of the people in our high school band – play our wedding reception and over 200 people would be there to see us celebrate our undying love for one another.
Then, after our honeymoon in Rome, we would come back and I was going to be a civil engineer – just like my dad – and he would be a professor.
I planned for us to have one child when I turned 25. Her name was going to be Abbey Rae – named after my two grandfathers. I wanted to have Abbey at 25, so I would still be fairly young when she went off to university because the French horn player and I would still have a lot of living left to do.
This, of course, was unbeknownst to him. But to me, once I admitted it to these four girls, it was real.
It seems hilarious now, as a 26-year-old single gal
I maintained a fairly close friendship with two of these for ladies for the past 12 years, though it has been sporadic, and they came to visit me this weekend.
Just before going to sleep on Saturday night, we reminisced about the over-caffienated sleepover so many years ago and how our lives are so much different than we had planned.
If you're reading this column, you know that I'm not designing bridges for you to drive on as a civil engineer.
As for the French horn player, he is playing bass in a reasonably popular pop/rock band in Halifax and is in a long-term relationship with a woman he met after university.
And as for me, I am super single with no immediate plans of entering a relationship or having little Abbey Rae.
Until fairly recently, I worried about when I was going to marry and have kids, but now, I'm just living life and having a good time.
Though it's different from the plan I had originally crafted as a young teenager, my life is working out pretty well overall.
John Lennon was right.
Friday, November 20, 2009
the third wheel
Before we learn how to drive a bicycle, many of us start with tricycles - a bicycle with three wheels.
It has more stability, thus we are less likely to fall and get hurt. I know when I used to drive a tricycle, I loved it - but when I saw some older kids driving two-wheelers, I knew that's the freedom I longed for. I could just feel my long, messy, dark hair flapping in the breeze (under my pink helmet of course!). Not only did I long for that freedom, but I knew I could go much farther and faster once I got the hang of it. The risk of getting hurt grew stronger, however.
Fast forward to life in my mid-twenties.
The tricycle has become two of the closest friends I've ever had. We used to lean on each other and support one another like a tricycle does a child. It was safe and tremendously fun. And just like adults long to go back to their childhood, I long to go back to the days when we were an innocent tricycle - but I fear it's impossible.
I feel as though I'm the third wheel that is holding a bicycle from finding its freedom. I know my friends have fun when it's the three of us because it's pure, safe and it used to be carefree - we still pretend it is in many ways.
It has more stability, thus we are less likely to fall and get hurt. I know when I used to drive a tricycle, I loved it - but when I saw some older kids driving two-wheelers, I knew that's the freedom I longed for. I could just feel my long, messy, dark hair flapping in the breeze (under my pink helmet of course!). Not only did I long for that freedom, but I knew I could go much farther and faster once I got the hang of it. The risk of getting hurt grew stronger, however.
Fast forward to life in my mid-twenties.
The tricycle has become two of the closest friends I've ever had. We used to lean on each other and support one another like a tricycle does a child. It was safe and tremendously fun. And just like adults long to go back to their childhood, I long to go back to the days when we were an innocent tricycle - but I fear it's impossible.
I feel as though I'm the third wheel that is holding a bicycle from finding its freedom. I know my friends have fun when it's the three of us because it's pure, safe and it used to be carefree - we still pretend it is in many ways.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Grief
Giving grief, getting grief and grieving.
I've never really thought much about the connection before.
This world is full of unfortunate incidents: people die, people get hurt, people do bad things. The world is also full of wonderful things and in my opinion, I see so many more of those. At least that's what I try to see.
We all have instances of loss in our lives and people deal with them in different ways.
Fortunately and unfortunately, I'm in an industry where my job is to report news.
A car accident where the driver ends up dead is news. It's unfortunate, and if I had control over the world, I'd never report it because it would never happen.
When these things happen, people are continually looking for answers. My job is to communicate those answers as factually and responsibly as humanly possible. Many avenues are used to get to this point (police reports, fire reports, etc.) I do believe there are problems in the journalism industry - too much sensationalism sometimes, which can cause desensitization.
We're coming upon the eighth anniversary of 9/11, and I'll never forget the first time I saw footage of an airplane crashing into a building. Now,due to incessant replays of the tragic incident, it's so much a part of our lives that it doesn't even seem real. Occasionally we journalists who are trying to find balance between respect and news get grief because of the sensationalists out there.
This weekend there was a tragic car accident. From the time I heard about it, I felt sick about it. It wasn't someone I was close friends with, but a human life just the same. He lived a hard, fast life with many hinderences. Some would argue these hinderences were his own fault - I believe accidents are called accidents for a reason. No one sets out to lose the use of their legs, or hurt their friends, or wrap their cars around trees - NO ONE. He is someone's son, someone's sibling and someone's friend. No one can ever take their grief away.
Out of grief, I'm sure, one of his friends made the decision to send me a nasty note.
This is where the giving grief comes in. This friend took his grief and, instead of dealing with it, felt the need to, not only share, but inflict his pain on me. It didn't feel good, to say the least, but I understand. I truly hope it made him feel better, though it likely did not. I hope someday he develops better coping mechanisms than unkind words and copious amounts of mind-numbing substance. I have no control over that. Everyone has their choices to make and crosses to bear - I sure as hell have mine.
I've never really thought much about the connection before.
This world is full of unfortunate incidents: people die, people get hurt, people do bad things. The world is also full of wonderful things and in my opinion, I see so many more of those. At least that's what I try to see.
We all have instances of loss in our lives and people deal with them in different ways.
Fortunately and unfortunately, I'm in an industry where my job is to report news.
A car accident where the driver ends up dead is news. It's unfortunate, and if I had control over the world, I'd never report it because it would never happen.
When these things happen, people are continually looking for answers. My job is to communicate those answers as factually and responsibly as humanly possible. Many avenues are used to get to this point (police reports, fire reports, etc.) I do believe there are problems in the journalism industry - too much sensationalism sometimes, which can cause desensitization.
We're coming upon the eighth anniversary of 9/11, and I'll never forget the first time I saw footage of an airplane crashing into a building. Now,due to incessant replays of the tragic incident, it's so much a part of our lives that it doesn't even seem real. Occasionally we journalists who are trying to find balance between respect and news get grief because of the sensationalists out there.
This weekend there was a tragic car accident. From the time I heard about it, I felt sick about it. It wasn't someone I was close friends with, but a human life just the same. He lived a hard, fast life with many hinderences. Some would argue these hinderences were his own fault - I believe accidents are called accidents for a reason. No one sets out to lose the use of their legs, or hurt their friends, or wrap their cars around trees - NO ONE. He is someone's son, someone's sibling and someone's friend. No one can ever take their grief away.
Out of grief, I'm sure, one of his friends made the decision to send me a nasty note.
This is where the giving grief comes in. This friend took his grief and, instead of dealing with it, felt the need to, not only share, but inflict his pain on me. It didn't feel good, to say the least, but I understand. I truly hope it made him feel better, though it likely did not. I hope someday he develops better coping mechanisms than unkind words and copious amounts of mind-numbing substance. I have no control over that. Everyone has their choices to make and crosses to bear - I sure as hell have mine.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
oh the trombone!
A facebook message sent to me from a great friend:
The trombone is, in my view, the real leader among the class of wind instruments I have described as epic. It possesses to the highest degree nobility and grandeur. It commands all the accents, grave or powerful, of high musical poetry, from imposing and calm religious tones to the frenzied clamour of an orgy.
The composer may at will make it sing a chorus of priests, threaten, utter a subdued lament, whisper a funeral dirge, raise a hymn of glory, break out in dreadful cries, or sound its formidable call for the awakening of the dead or the death of the living. (From Berlioz's "Treatise on Orchestration")
The trombone is, in my view, the real leader among the class of wind instruments I have described as epic. It possesses to the highest degree nobility and grandeur. It commands all the accents, grave or powerful, of high musical poetry, from imposing and calm religious tones to the frenzied clamour of an orgy.
The composer may at will make it sing a chorus of priests, threaten, utter a subdued lament, whisper a funeral dirge, raise a hymn of glory, break out in dreadful cries, or sound its formidable call for the awakening of the dead or the death of the living. (From Berlioz's "Treatise on Orchestration")
Thursday, July 30, 2009
It's my time
I, like my fellow blogging friend, should be using this as a tool to promote the Dooryard Arts Festival in Woodstock from Aug. 12-16 sure to capture the hearts and minds of anyone and everyone - but I won't encourage people to take in concerts by Ross Neilsen and the Singing Bridge Orchestra, visual displays by Jody Coughlin, Jody Denny and other people not named Jody, outdoor workshops and much, much more in this blog.
Nor will I use it to direct people to Friday's edition of the Bugle-Observer, which can be found at www.canadaeast.com, where the paper features a front-page story regarding 702 Main and a column by RiVA's own Amy Anderson.
I actually need to write about a journey I'm embarking on.
A few mind-altering things happened to me recently regarding my health.
I was walking to the bar the other night, and my lower back hurt so much I had to stop and lie down to stretch it out.
I knew it was because of my weight.
It's something I've struggled with for a very long time. In the last two years, I hadn't gained (nor lost) any weight since moving to Woodstock. I ate poorly much of the time, but I walked every day.
Since starting my new job (and getting a car), I've starting eating more poorly than ever before (think fast-food drive-thrus) and I've used my wheels to propel me around town.
I knew I had put on weight since the last time I checked - but I had no idea how much.
My high estimate was 10 pounds...I was wrong.
The last time I went pants shopping, I was up a size, it made me feel ill, but I still was ok.
It was the horrendous pain in my back that through me over the edge, and forced me to take a stand.
I, despite an exceptionally busy schedule, managed to make time to attend a weight watchers meeting.
It was inevitable, I was going to have to step on a scale - something I hadn't done in at least six months. I was not looking forward to it. The last time I checked, I was dangerously close to a very scary number.
Not only had I reached the frightening poundage, I had exceeded.
I nearly broke into tears in front of a room of people. But I didn't.
I stayed for the entire meeting and listened to what they had to say.
It was really great, and I have been sticking to my points all week. Already I feel better.
I played a show tonight with the Singing Bridge Orchestra, who incidentally will be playing at the Elks Club on Wed., Aug. 12, as part of dooryard arts, and felt more like dancing and really got into singing and playing the trombone. More than I have in quite sometime.
A few days will tell how successful I've been...it feels great to be taking a stand.
Nor will I use it to direct people to Friday's edition of the Bugle-Observer, which can be found at www.canadaeast.com, where the paper features a front-page story regarding 702 Main and a column by RiVA's own Amy Anderson.
I actually need to write about a journey I'm embarking on.
A few mind-altering things happened to me recently regarding my health.
I was walking to the bar the other night, and my lower back hurt so much I had to stop and lie down to stretch it out.
I knew it was because of my weight.
It's something I've struggled with for a very long time. In the last two years, I hadn't gained (nor lost) any weight since moving to Woodstock. I ate poorly much of the time, but I walked every day.
Since starting my new job (and getting a car), I've starting eating more poorly than ever before (think fast-food drive-thrus) and I've used my wheels to propel me around town.
I knew I had put on weight since the last time I checked - but I had no idea how much.
My high estimate was 10 pounds...I was wrong.
The last time I went pants shopping, I was up a size, it made me feel ill, but I still was ok.
It was the horrendous pain in my back that through me over the edge, and forced me to take a stand.
I, despite an exceptionally busy schedule, managed to make time to attend a weight watchers meeting.
It was inevitable, I was going to have to step on a scale - something I hadn't done in at least six months. I was not looking forward to it. The last time I checked, I was dangerously close to a very scary number.
Not only had I reached the frightening poundage, I had exceeded.
I nearly broke into tears in front of a room of people. But I didn't.
I stayed for the entire meeting and listened to what they had to say.
It was really great, and I have been sticking to my points all week. Already I feel better.
I played a show tonight with the Singing Bridge Orchestra, who incidentally will be playing at the Elks Club on Wed., Aug. 12, as part of dooryard arts, and felt more like dancing and really got into singing and playing the trombone. More than I have in quite sometime.
A few days will tell how successful I've been...it feels great to be taking a stand.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
A lot about livin' and a little 'bout love
I'm writing this in response to a note that a friend recently posted on Facebook. It alleged that white people cannot dance, particularly Canadians. In this note, my friend referenced his first dancing experience, and his most recent. It made me nostalgic for the days of Junior High School Much Music Video Dances.
They cost at least two dollars more than a regular dance; however, it was SO worth it - especially in Grade 7. Everyone, and I mean everyone, even the cool ninth graders came out to the video dance. It was what student party night is to university students to the 12-15 year old teenagers at Quispamsis Junior High.
It was 1995, so some of the pretty and popular Grade 9 girls would wear loose-fitting, low-cut jeans, with their Calvin Klein underwear sticking out of the top. Looking back, I'm not sure if that was actually stylish, or if the girls were just proud to be wearing something designed by Calvin Klein and felt the need to show off. Most of us simply wore our green, burgundy or black Club Monaco sweatshirts. I don't think there was anything special about it, except for the name, but it cost over $40. Oh to be a slave to fashion.
I remember learning the macerena at this time, and a dance to Saturday Night by Whigfield if I'm not mistaken. Girls (and a few brave boys) would line up, side by side, and engage in these synchronized dance moves, mimicking what we'd see on the screen. Oh how wonderful we thought we were (actually, we only pretended to think we were wonderful - I know I didn't actually feel like I was). Then, IT happened. IT being the inevitable slow dance. How laughable we must have been to our teacher chaperons, or worse, the MUCH MUSIC video dance CREW!!! I'm sure they'd do it on purpose...play a Celine Dion song, or worse, November Rain...
Girls would quickly separate from their friends - their eyes darting wildly around the room - hoping and praying to see him. Oh yes, HIM. The lights are flashing, couples are starting to form, like a bees nestling on flowers - fear and dread take over, you see other girls, weaker girls, running to the bathroom in agony...their ever-comforting best friend close behind (only because no one asked her to dance either).
And then you see him, and, no, he wasn't your first choice, or your eleventh - but he wasn't dancing with anyone else...so you move in...the song's already two minutes in (but that's fine since November Rain is nearly ten minutes long).
"Ummmm....will you dance with me," you say with a quiver in your voice.
He agrees. THANK YOU GOD!
And so it begins...
THE SEVENTH GRADE SHUFFLE. Your arms are stretched as far as they'll reach, just to gently place them on his shoulders - his arms are also outstretched, to nervously place them on your waist (likely leaving a sweat mark on your brand new, olive green Club Monaco sweatshirt). There is room for at least one other person to slide in between the two of you...but it's magical.
Thoughts involve, "ooh, I wonder who's watching...oh my god, I'm three inches taller than him...his hands are really sweaty...Oh my god, Mr. Wilson's watching, totally embarassing."
Of course they don't play the extended version of the song...you awkwardly part ways with your dance partner...and it's off to do the Cotton Eyed Joe dance.
"Where did you come from, where did you go..."
Now, nearly 15 years later, it takes every amount of will power that I have to not launch into those familiar dances when I hear the songs associated with them (let's face it, I totally still do the dances). I may even haul out the running man or the shopping cart...
Many white people may not be able to dance with any sort of validity; however, we've mastered the art of making people laugh through our intricate, popular moves. There has to be something to say for that...right? maybe? err....LONG LIVE THE SEVENTH GRADE SHUFFLE (and thank you Mark Monroe for being taller than me in Grade 7 and dancing with me once at a Much Music Video Dance in 1995).
They cost at least two dollars more than a regular dance; however, it was SO worth it - especially in Grade 7. Everyone, and I mean everyone, even the cool ninth graders came out to the video dance. It was what student party night is to university students to the 12-15 year old teenagers at Quispamsis Junior High.
It was 1995, so some of the pretty and popular Grade 9 girls would wear loose-fitting, low-cut jeans, with their Calvin Klein underwear sticking out of the top. Looking back, I'm not sure if that was actually stylish, or if the girls were just proud to be wearing something designed by Calvin Klein and felt the need to show off. Most of us simply wore our green, burgundy or black Club Monaco sweatshirts. I don't think there was anything special about it, except for the name, but it cost over $40. Oh to be a slave to fashion.
I remember learning the macerena at this time, and a dance to Saturday Night by Whigfield if I'm not mistaken. Girls (and a few brave boys) would line up, side by side, and engage in these synchronized dance moves, mimicking what we'd see on the screen. Oh how wonderful we thought we were (actually, we only pretended to think we were wonderful - I know I didn't actually feel like I was). Then, IT happened. IT being the inevitable slow dance. How laughable we must have been to our teacher chaperons, or worse, the MUCH MUSIC video dance CREW!!! I'm sure they'd do it on purpose...play a Celine Dion song, or worse, November Rain...
Girls would quickly separate from their friends - their eyes darting wildly around the room - hoping and praying to see him. Oh yes, HIM. The lights are flashing, couples are starting to form, like a bees nestling on flowers - fear and dread take over, you see other girls, weaker girls, running to the bathroom in agony...their ever-comforting best friend close behind (only because no one asked her to dance either).
And then you see him, and, no, he wasn't your first choice, or your eleventh - but he wasn't dancing with anyone else...so you move in...the song's already two minutes in (but that's fine since November Rain is nearly ten minutes long).
"Ummmm....will you dance with me," you say with a quiver in your voice.
He agrees. THANK YOU GOD!
And so it begins...
THE SEVENTH GRADE SHUFFLE. Your arms are stretched as far as they'll reach, just to gently place them on his shoulders - his arms are also outstretched, to nervously place them on your waist (likely leaving a sweat mark on your brand new, olive green Club Monaco sweatshirt). There is room for at least one other person to slide in between the two of you...but it's magical.
Thoughts involve, "ooh, I wonder who's watching...oh my god, I'm three inches taller than him...his hands are really sweaty...Oh my god, Mr. Wilson's watching, totally embarassing."
Of course they don't play the extended version of the song...you awkwardly part ways with your dance partner...and it's off to do the Cotton Eyed Joe dance.
"Where did you come from, where did you go..."
Now, nearly 15 years later, it takes every amount of will power that I have to not launch into those familiar dances when I hear the songs associated with them (let's face it, I totally still do the dances). I may even haul out the running man or the shopping cart...
Many white people may not be able to dance with any sort of validity; however, we've mastered the art of making people laugh through our intricate, popular moves. There has to be something to say for that...right? maybe? err....LONG LIVE THE SEVENTH GRADE SHUFFLE (and thank you Mark Monroe for being taller than me in Grade 7 and dancing with me once at a Much Music Video Dance in 1995).
Monday, May 18, 2009
If it Feels Good Do It
You can only experience something for the first time once. Makes sense, right. Even seems a little obvious. But, is it true?
I was recently talking to a friend who had resisted reading 1984 - not because he thought he wouldn't like it - but because he wanted to savour that first-time experience. He'd read Brave New World because he'd heard them compared. He walked around with a copy. I looked at this avid reader in utter dismay, because I knew that he would adore this novel. I quickly ran to my room and found my copy to hand over.
This is why I believe it is possible to recapture the feeling of doing something for the first time - by passing it on.
Nearly four years ago, I was in my fourth year at UNBSJ and working at Kent part time. At work, I hung out with two young men, about my age, who I also went to school with. We spent entire Saturday evening shifts discussing books, school, movies, girl/boy troubles and Star Wars. These boys spent a solid 68% of our shifts referencing and quoting Star Wars. The trouble was that I had never seen it. I had resisted for many of the same reasons that my friend resisted reading 1984.
Also, I worried that it was built up so much by so many people that it would inevitably disappoint. After much chastising, when The Revenge of the Sith was released in theatres, I sat down and watched Star Wars. All of them. However, I started with the prequels. (For anyone else who lived under a rock and never saw Star Wars, I highly recommend you watch them in that order). JarJar Binks is an almost tolerable character when you've never seen any of the other movies. Anyway, I digress.
These two boys, who had literally seen Star Wars hundreds of times, found new appreciation in sharing it with me. My thoughts on the experiment we tried were valued, and I could see the twinkle in their eyes in listening to what I had to say. They had the opportunity to watch a favourite movie of theirs through new eyes.
For me, I feel this fresh feeling every time I share my favourite song with someone who's never heard it - I get down right giddy. It's pretty ridiculous. It's one of those songs that starts off quietly, and then builds into this big, brassy, mass of excellence. The lyrics are stellar as well. (The song is My Little Town by Simon and Garfunkel - I couldn't find a decent version on youtube, so I didn't post a link). Anyway, I love watching someone who's never heard the song listen to it. I get chills just like the first time I heard it.
My point is, if something is great - it will be even greater as you pass it on.
I was recently talking to a friend who had resisted reading 1984 - not because he thought he wouldn't like it - but because he wanted to savour that first-time experience. He'd read Brave New World because he'd heard them compared. He walked around with a copy. I looked at this avid reader in utter dismay, because I knew that he would adore this novel. I quickly ran to my room and found my copy to hand over.
This is why I believe it is possible to recapture the feeling of doing something for the first time - by passing it on.
Nearly four years ago, I was in my fourth year at UNBSJ and working at Kent part time. At work, I hung out with two young men, about my age, who I also went to school with. We spent entire Saturday evening shifts discussing books, school, movies, girl/boy troubles and Star Wars. These boys spent a solid 68% of our shifts referencing and quoting Star Wars. The trouble was that I had never seen it. I had resisted for many of the same reasons that my friend resisted reading 1984.
Also, I worried that it was built up so much by so many people that it would inevitably disappoint. After much chastising, when The Revenge of the Sith was released in theatres, I sat down and watched Star Wars. All of them. However, I started with the prequels. (For anyone else who lived under a rock and never saw Star Wars, I highly recommend you watch them in that order). JarJar Binks is an almost tolerable character when you've never seen any of the other movies. Anyway, I digress.
These two boys, who had literally seen Star Wars hundreds of times, found new appreciation in sharing it with me. My thoughts on the experiment we tried were valued, and I could see the twinkle in their eyes in listening to what I had to say. They had the opportunity to watch a favourite movie of theirs through new eyes.
For me, I feel this fresh feeling every time I share my favourite song with someone who's never heard it - I get down right giddy. It's pretty ridiculous. It's one of those songs that starts off quietly, and then builds into this big, brassy, mass of excellence. The lyrics are stellar as well. (The song is My Little Town by Simon and Garfunkel - I couldn't find a decent version on youtube, so I didn't post a link). Anyway, I love watching someone who's never heard the song listen to it. I get chills just like the first time I heard it.
My point is, if something is great - it will be even greater as you pass it on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
