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")
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