For about a year when I was thirteen, I had the same dream just about every night.
It went like this:
I was in a medium-size room, in a place that was sort of like a cabin. The walls, the floor...everything was a warm golden oak colour. It was mostly empty except for one medium-size window directly across the room from me. There were these white/cream lacy curtains on it, and out the window you could see this mountainous/foresty area. It was really pretty. The sun was shining.
All of that was secondary though, because on the floor there was this skeleton. It was cream coloured. This skeleton crawled towards me, the whole dream. I couldn't move; I couldn't look away. Time passed, and I could tell because of the sunlight moving across the wood floor, and the shadows across the floor. I was nervous--apprehensive might be a more accurate term--but accepting. And every time it got to me, I woke up.
I have no idea if it means anything or not, but I just remembered this today.
27.2.11
Sick thoughts, in the pure sense.
Now, I know this might be lame, but I figure: my blog, my rules. And I had a surprisingly good weekend, so I want to talk about it.
I had an amazing time the past week at home just hanging out with my family and catching up, sleeping, patting my dog...it was stellar. I love home. Unfortunately, I find that when I slow down, that's often when I end up being sick. It's like the sickness catches up to me once I stop running around, and then takes over my body. I was highly disappointed with this--not only because it sucks to be sick--but because it completely wrecked a bunch of my plans, and severely cramped my style. I was looking forward to coming back to Ottawa slightly early--somewhat to try to pick up shifts and to catch up on homework...difficult to do at home...but also because I was going to hang out with Manuel for a bunch on Saturday. He had this whole plan, and I was maaajor excited.
Unfortunately, my sickness (and the homework levels on both our parts) made this plan a no-go. I sounded like Gollum upon returning to O-town and (totally honestly) didn't look much different from the critter. To be totally honest, I was really nervous for him to see me like that. As in, total mess. Coughing uncontrollably, hard enough to make myself sick and to make my eyes water, on-and-off fever, swollen nose and lips...I wore horrible clothing, had nasty hair...not my best. Besides that, I always feel very vulnerable when I'm sick so I was terrified that he would be totally repulsed and I would be embarrassed and it would just be a bad scene all around.
And nothing of the sort happened.
Even though sickness makes me sappy, I just wanted to share this stuff, cause it made my heart smile. He'd probably be embarrassed if he ever read this....but too bad :P. The guy took care of me, the whole time I was sick. Well, most of it anyway. He got me water, NeoCitran tea (amazing stuff, by the way), and was essentially...incredibly caring. He made me laugh, so hard (not so good for my cough...but good for the soul haha) and still called me pretty, even though I kind of looked like a crazy homeless person. And all of this meant a lot to me, because I realized that I was so afraid for him to see me like that...at my worst, and he didn't run away from it at all. He could handle all the grossities of my leaky nose and could laugh with me at my crazy hair and still kissed my chapped lips and, for the first time, I actually really understood that he liked me, as a person, and that I didn't have to be perfect all the time for him to hang around. And maybe this is a weird, TMI post for y'all...but you know what? It meant more to me than almost anything. And that's just what I felt like talking about today.
Peace.
I had an amazing time the past week at home just hanging out with my family and catching up, sleeping, patting my dog...it was stellar. I love home. Unfortunately, I find that when I slow down, that's often when I end up being sick. It's like the sickness catches up to me once I stop running around, and then takes over my body. I was highly disappointed with this--not only because it sucks to be sick--but because it completely wrecked a bunch of my plans, and severely cramped my style. I was looking forward to coming back to Ottawa slightly early--somewhat to try to pick up shifts and to catch up on homework...difficult to do at home...but also because I was going to hang out with Manuel for a bunch on Saturday. He had this whole plan, and I was maaajor excited.
Unfortunately, my sickness (and the homework levels on both our parts) made this plan a no-go. I sounded like Gollum upon returning to O-town and (totally honestly) didn't look much different from the critter. To be totally honest, I was really nervous for him to see me like that. As in, total mess. Coughing uncontrollably, hard enough to make myself sick and to make my eyes water, on-and-off fever, swollen nose and lips...I wore horrible clothing, had nasty hair...not my best. Besides that, I always feel very vulnerable when I'm sick so I was terrified that he would be totally repulsed and I would be embarrassed and it would just be a bad scene all around.
And nothing of the sort happened.
Even though sickness makes me sappy, I just wanted to share this stuff, cause it made my heart smile. He'd probably be embarrassed if he ever read this....but too bad :P. The guy took care of me, the whole time I was sick. Well, most of it anyway. He got me water, NeoCitran tea (amazing stuff, by the way), and was essentially...incredibly caring. He made me laugh, so hard (not so good for my cough...but good for the soul haha) and still called me pretty, even though I kind of looked like a crazy homeless person. And all of this meant a lot to me, because I realized that I was so afraid for him to see me like that...at my worst, and he didn't run away from it at all. He could handle all the grossities of my leaky nose and could laugh with me at my crazy hair and still kissed my chapped lips and, for the first time, I actually really understood that he liked me, as a person, and that I didn't have to be perfect all the time for him to hang around. And maybe this is a weird, TMI post for y'all...but you know what? It meant more to me than almost anything. And that's just what I felt like talking about today.
Peace.
11.2.11
9.2.11
Frustrated
You're the itch that I can't scratch
The bead of sweat running down my back
The heavy child sitting on my lap
The dripping faucet to my afternoon nap
The perfect egg with a fatal crack
The bead of sweat running down my back
The heavy child sitting on my lap
The dripping faucet to my afternoon nap
The perfect egg with a fatal crack
3.2.11
Race to the finish.
Race is a socially constructed concept. It has no biological backup or scientific basis, it's simply a free-floating idea based upon humanity's observation of physical traits, and the stereotypes we attach to these traits. There's no biological or genetic foundation for the grouping of people according to race, but it's a concept that we all generally adhere to quite readily, without necessarily thinking through the consequences.
I had an extremely interesting and challenging class today with my Comm T&F class today. Essentially, we studied race, how it's the ultimate communicative concept, and how we all essentially adhere to this inexact dividing line with such rigidity that we end up justifying things like land appropriation, the Holocaust, apartheid, eugenics, internment, segregation, slavery....the list goes on. Kudos to my prof, who managed to do a very sensitive, intelligent, and insightful talk on concepts that can bring many people to riots.
That doesn't mean the class was easy to sit through: I have a chronic case of empathy, and it was more than disturbing to see things like Michael Richards' (best known as Kramer on Seinfeld) break down during his comedy act and exhibit some of the most vulgar and raw racism I've ever actually witnessed in a non-fiction setting. Pictures of grossly anatomically caricatured African Americans in historical documentation were also a part of the examples given, along with a clip from Top Gear on "Mexicans". For me, this experience was extremely uncomfortable, for two reasons: first, because I empathized for both the people who had to deal with the way they were so inaccurately portrayed, and secondly, because I am a white person observing how people from my ethnicity have essentially trashed everybody else, or developed some sort of superiority complex.
I can't do anything about my skin colour. I'm white, I will always be white (unless I'm embarrassed, sick, sunburnt, cold, or dead, in which case I can be a veritable rainbow of colours)...but like everyone else in the world who doesn't want to be Michael Jackson, I can't do anything about my race. I am also incapable of changing the mindset of any people who are racist, white or otherwise. And while I can do my best to be a good influence, there are no guarantees.
This is an issue that has hit close to home for me in the past little while due to the fact that my boyfriend of almost a month isn't white, and the fact that this was an issue with some of the people I'm close to was a bit of a shock to me. It broke my heart a bit, confused me, and really made me think a lot about how people are such flawed creatures. We really have no idea what we're doing sometimes. This guy is one of the strongest, funniest, and kindest people I know. He's one of the very few people I know who will be honest with themselves, and will genuinely look for what the right thing to do is. He's been there for me in some of the toughest times I've ever faced. Even before we were dating, we were close for a long time and the whole "race" thing--while sometimes funny (he makes fun of me cause I can't dance, I tease him about his hatred of cold weather and his huge, curly hair...pretty much an afro at this point) isn't so much an issue. With us, anyway. But some people can't look beyond that, which drives me up the wall. Stereotypes are only stereotypes; and people are so much more than the labels we put on them.
I can't change the whole world. But I can change my world: do my best to salvage the relationships that are important to me, cut out the ones that are a waste of time, and just keep going. Racism is such a bizarre, unnecessary evil, and I'm completely weary of it. I don't refuse to give people a chance based on race, and I don't favour one over another. Every person's an individual, and ought to be treated as such. Personally, I don't want to be judged based on the transgressions of every person who's ever fallen under the category of "white".
We're all a part of the human race, after all...and that's all that matters.
I had an extremely interesting and challenging class today with my Comm T&F class today. Essentially, we studied race, how it's the ultimate communicative concept, and how we all essentially adhere to this inexact dividing line with such rigidity that we end up justifying things like land appropriation, the Holocaust, apartheid, eugenics, internment, segregation, slavery....the list goes on. Kudos to my prof, who managed to do a very sensitive, intelligent, and insightful talk on concepts that can bring many people to riots.
That doesn't mean the class was easy to sit through: I have a chronic case of empathy, and it was more than disturbing to see things like Michael Richards' (best known as Kramer on Seinfeld) break down during his comedy act and exhibit some of the most vulgar and raw racism I've ever actually witnessed in a non-fiction setting. Pictures of grossly anatomically caricatured African Americans in historical documentation were also a part of the examples given, along with a clip from Top Gear on "Mexicans". For me, this experience was extremely uncomfortable, for two reasons: first, because I empathized for both the people who had to deal with the way they were so inaccurately portrayed, and secondly, because I am a white person observing how people from my ethnicity have essentially trashed everybody else, or developed some sort of superiority complex.
I can't do anything about my skin colour. I'm white, I will always be white (unless I'm embarrassed, sick, sunburnt, cold, or dead, in which case I can be a veritable rainbow of colours)...but like everyone else in the world who doesn't want to be Michael Jackson, I can't do anything about my race. I am also incapable of changing the mindset of any people who are racist, white or otherwise. And while I can do my best to be a good influence, there are no guarantees.
This is an issue that has hit close to home for me in the past little while due to the fact that my boyfriend of almost a month isn't white, and the fact that this was an issue with some of the people I'm close to was a bit of a shock to me. It broke my heart a bit, confused me, and really made me think a lot about how people are such flawed creatures. We really have no idea what we're doing sometimes. This guy is one of the strongest, funniest, and kindest people I know. He's one of the very few people I know who will be honest with themselves, and will genuinely look for what the right thing to do is. He's been there for me in some of the toughest times I've ever faced. Even before we were dating, we were close for a long time and the whole "race" thing--while sometimes funny (he makes fun of me cause I can't dance, I tease him about his hatred of cold weather and his huge, curly hair...pretty much an afro at this point) isn't so much an issue. With us, anyway. But some people can't look beyond that, which drives me up the wall. Stereotypes are only stereotypes; and people are so much more than the labels we put on them.
I can't change the whole world. But I can change my world: do my best to salvage the relationships that are important to me, cut out the ones that are a waste of time, and just keep going. Racism is such a bizarre, unnecessary evil, and I'm completely weary of it. I don't refuse to give people a chance based on race, and I don't favour one over another. Every person's an individual, and ought to be treated as such. Personally, I don't want to be judged based on the transgressions of every person who's ever fallen under the category of "white".
We're all a part of the human race, after all...and that's all that matters.
31.1.11
Jesus talk.
Today, I was accosted by two Campus for Christ members in the tunnels.
To be honest, it was almost funny. I was sitting at a table in the area between the library and my next class, making notes in my film textbook with my laptop open. Besides me, the table was empty. Then, two girls came over. Initially I assumed they wanted to ask what the time was or something like that. But they were a little too awkward and hesitant. Eventually though, it came out that they were from C4C and wanted to chat about "spiritual things".
This was clearly a "evangelism training" session for the younger girl. To be honest, I forget both of their names now too...not that I'd name them anyway. But to be truthful, they probably forgot mine too. The older one, a pleasantly pretty blonde, did the majority of the question-asking and was very obedient to her script. I know because I've seen it before. Ask about background, find points of similarity, share elements of own story with at least 40% relevancy, and reference group that you belong to/work with. The other girl didn't say much, other than her name and the occasional affirmative head nod.
Why me? Probably because I'm a non-threatening white girl who looks somewhat academic and also kind of like a softy. All of which are true, which leads me to believe that stereotypes are sometimes not in my best interest.
It was funny because they immediately assumed and were prepared for a background I didn't have, for things I wasn't going to say, and they didn't really listen to the one I did. Not on purpose, I'm sure, but it's hard to see things you're not looking for.
I'm not trying to rip on these girls for trying to convert me/get me to come to C4C/whatever, but I'm just saying. Sometimes, it's thought provoking when you're on the other side of the table and you don't feel so much like a person, but a target.
And sometimes, you're playing for the same team anyway.
To be honest, it was almost funny. I was sitting at a table in the area between the library and my next class, making notes in my film textbook with my laptop open. Besides me, the table was empty. Then, two girls came over. Initially I assumed they wanted to ask what the time was or something like that. But they were a little too awkward and hesitant. Eventually though, it came out that they were from C4C and wanted to chat about "spiritual things".
This was clearly a "evangelism training" session for the younger girl. To be honest, I forget both of their names now too...not that I'd name them anyway. But to be truthful, they probably forgot mine too. The older one, a pleasantly pretty blonde, did the majority of the question-asking and was very obedient to her script. I know because I've seen it before. Ask about background, find points of similarity, share elements of own story with at least 40% relevancy, and reference group that you belong to/work with. The other girl didn't say much, other than her name and the occasional affirmative head nod.
Why me? Probably because I'm a non-threatening white girl who looks somewhat academic and also kind of like a softy. All of which are true, which leads me to believe that stereotypes are sometimes not in my best interest.
It was funny because they immediately assumed and were prepared for a background I didn't have, for things I wasn't going to say, and they didn't really listen to the one I did. Not on purpose, I'm sure, but it's hard to see things you're not looking for.
I'm not trying to rip on these girls for trying to convert me/get me to come to C4C/whatever, but I'm just saying. Sometimes, it's thought provoking when you're on the other side of the table and you don't feel so much like a person, but a target.
And sometimes, you're playing for the same team anyway.
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