was i sleeping all this time?

i quit smoking in may.
i've had a fuzzy head and mixed emotions for months.
i suddenly feel like i've woken up.
at first i felt better about that.
my head seems to have cleared, like i pulled it out of a stormy rain cloud.
but now i feel as if i let all this stuff happen and nothing is the way it was.
i've somehow gotten fatter...not even my body is my own.
i don't even know how i managed to pull off school this past semester while still maintaining a GPA of 3.5
it's like driving for 20 mins only to realize you don't remember the past 5 km, never mind changing lanes...complete auto pilot.

funded by the national nuclear power organization

i always get weary about stories like this.
who has funded the writer's grant?
a story about how nuclear waste is not good, but atleast it's better than coal ash?
for real?

things my boyfriend says

"stop taking pictures of me!"
"stop being so gorgeous"

talk about ego booster.
he definitely has a way with words.

a chilly climate

so in 2005, the head honcho at harvard, lawrence summers, basically says that women are naturally not as smart as men.
and while i appreciate his idea to state something so simple as that intelligence is innate so you can't blame the victim, i don't appreciate the poor little girls as victims approach, as this totally absolves society of all of its failures.
and while i appreciate his gall and bravery for saying something that would surely put him under attack, i will attack not him, but rather the magazine that i am so fond of, for pretty much emphasizing summers' idea.
the whole article to address this issue spends the first 2/3 going over all the biological and innate reasoning, and the differences in boys and girls spatial/mathematical/cognitive skills...which reinforces the dominant ideology that men are just better at techy stuff than women.
not until the second last page does the article make reference to the idea of choice, and even still doesn't even suggest that perhaps a woman's choice not to choose fields of math/science is because of a chilly climate. yes, the glass ceiling, as mentioned, is a definite probability for choice, but it goes beyond pay and promotion. working in an environment where women are inadvertently made to feel inadequate and less worthy is frustrating.
and the sheer fact that even as young children we have begun to think that this is alright because of the differences in the way girls and boys are taught. school is an institution after all--an institution that reinforces men's and women's roles in society and conditions us for those roles.
and the idea of a woman's double day gets the honour of a measly little paragraph at the end.
if the article really set out to refute summers' statement and challenge the ideology of men excelling at science and math, surely it would have given equal discussion in all possible factors.
i love science and biology and physiology and the amazingness that is the brain, but if we're talking biological psychology, then other contributors need to be considered in they way we perceive things and the way society's dominant thinking has conditioned us to believe things.

~
music to my ears - slow news day

summer and sandalwood

today, as you sat across the table, eyes tearing, remembering that boys don't cry.
"hey, i'll give you something to cry about", you said, explaining your father's fine parenting skills.
all those years spent with a bottle, more recently a pipe.
overwhelmed and wondering if it will ever end.
kids who think you're the biggest loser--can't be good for the psyche.
and i remember summer and sandalwood.
a not so distant past where i didn't even know you existed.

~
music to my ears: Radiohead - Hail to the Thief

why i hate the ttc

so i make the decision to not ride my bike in the cold this morning.
i guess i shouldn't have jinxed it by adding "man, i hate the ttc"
i walk out the door and think "hmmm, it's really not as cold as the -15 they were claiming, i should totally go back upstairs and get my bike"
but at this point i'm already committed. so i continue to walk to the subway.
i put my ticket, worth $2.75, into the money thing.
i run down the stairs, and there is the train, packed, with the doors wide open.
"attention passengers, we are currently experiencing a delay on our bloor-danforth line due to an incident at track level at our jane station"
dammit. a jumper at jane and instead of diverting service somewhere and getting the show on the road, we're at a standstill with constant annoying updates while i'm left cursing myself for wussing out of riding my bike in between hot and cranky people sighing and huffing.
my alternative is to leave immediately and go back to get my bike, but at this point i've resigned myself to paying $2.75 for being late for class.
when we finally begin to move, the train is so full that the transfer at yonge has line ups to the train and i wait with thousands of impatient and shoving people for 3 trains to go by before i can get down to dundas.
fuck. i hate the ttc.

~
music to my ears: The Weakerthans - Virtute the cat explains her departure
(saddest song in the world - m.)

my reality is not facebook

i don't exist. it's true.
deleting my facebook account has distanced me from a social network that has taken over our cultural communication.
interesting blog entry.
the non-facebook akin to non-existing is very true, as i have been finding out.
i am excluded from all sorts of events because "sorry, i forgot you're not on facebook"
i barely even talk to my roommate anymore because facebook is her primary means of communication.
i miss human contact.

~
Music to my ears: Wintersleep - Welcome to the Night Sky

clementines and christmas

i couldn't resist the little orange mesh bags of unripe clementines.
tiny and sour.
reminds me of christmas and i don't have time to think about it yet.

happy birthday...we're moving

i grab my jacket this morning from the big closet...it's been hanging up for some time now...put it on in the dark, bundle up, and head out.

sitting on the street health bus i'm thinkin it smells an awful lot like piss, but hey, i'm on the street health bus, right? the stench of urine and homelessness sometimes go hand in hand.

but throughout the morning, i smell the pee. but hey, i'm at st mike's hospital, makes sense. i'm walking in moss park. huh. makes sense.

put my jacket back on this early afternoon to go out to an ocap action thing about the new cctv cameras at the corner of dundas/sherbourne, and there it is again. the whiff of piss. huh. well, i am at the corner of dundas and sherbourne.

but then, here i am standing in the daylight, and i look down to my whitish-light blue jacket and huh. that's an interesting yellow stain going all the way down the left side of my jacket. down my arm. could that be sweat from an old jog? let's take a whiff.

ah. cat piss. how lovely.

how incredibly angry i am right now since i just took my jacket off again and now my sweater smells from wearing the jacket all morning. down my left arm. not to mention the humiliation from my jacket being completely yellow.

happy birthday.

hope you didn't find piss in your shoes this morning.

you may find a dead cat or two when you get home.

but vs however

i think that if the word however can begin a sentence, so can the word but.
especially if you're making a much stronger point.
however sounds so complacent. to the point of wussy. very indecisive. "however, it may not be that way..."
but 'but'. now there's a word with meaning. "you say this, BUT i say this". very crude and to the point.
from here on in, i am using but to make my stance in papers.
my profs will be angry but i think it's a worthy cause.

i quit.

i quit my job. finally. that bastard of a boss can shove it.
for 3 years i've put up with his disrespect. treating the staff the way he has.
and he finally put me over the edge.
i feel liberated.
and yet irresponsible.
i walked in a half hour before my shift, picked up my cheque and quit. right there. right then.
how horrible, really.
oddly it felt necessary, but so unlike me.
even with all the shit i have put up with, i still wanted to leave properly.
but it had to be done. and it is.
just because i was getting paid a server's minimum wage--way below regular minimum wage--i don't deserve to be spoken to like that.
nobody does.

a march against poverty + a petty issue

at 30 yrs old, i participated in my first march.
well, participated in the sense of being available for first aid services if need be.
i have mixed feelings about it, mostly because i've always thought that mobilization doesn't have to come in the form of a protest. do protests really reach the right people? i've never thought so. especially organizations like OCAP, which sometimes end up in violence as they take over abandoned houses across the city.
as a matter of fact, this feeling was somewhat justified as i was talking to one of our homeless clients before the march and he said "i didn't really want to march for ocap--they always seem to fuck things up".
the police presence was heavy. horses with face shields hiding behind the hedges at queen's park.
but the march ended up being alright. no violence.
and although i did not participate in any chanting or raising of fists, i did watch the general public's reactions.
passerbys stopped to ask what it was about.
and then i wondered if the people that they're trying to reach, those "right" people, aren't part of the government or political organizations but rather the everyday person.
because ultimately it's people who are going to make a change...well, hopefully, in our somewhat democratic society.
but it is a democracy and people coming together can change things.
or atleast "democracy" gives us the hope that we can.
whatever.
either way, here i was in an anti-poverty march, and every tuesday and wednesday i see people who don't have clean clothes or clothes that fit, and here i am finding myself with a body image issue.
so i've gained 10, maybe 15 lbs...so what? why do i care so much?
i've done so many good things to have gained this weight.
i stopped being so vigilant about exercise and started enjoying activities more.
i quit smoking (!!!)
but my clothes don't fit. and it's very disheartening.
but what's even more disturbing is the fact that something this petty bothers me.
the fact that i know i'm being told that women are supposed to be thin, with no extra rolls on their tummies, and wear a size 0, and yet i'm still succumbing to this ideology.
and every day, walking around the city, i struggle with the fact that this should NOT bother me.
i mean, my life is pretty sweet. i have a strong support system. i have healthcare. i'm not starving. i have a roof over my head. i'm in university becoming a nurse.
and i'm white, so i have nothing pitted against me.
so what the hell?
why can't i shake this?

i'll never know what it means to use

yesterday i got the call i've been waiting for.
one of my best friends is alive.
and has been through rehab. and has been clean for 3 months.
the last time i saw her she had dropped into my apartment to use the couch, borrow money and cry that she needed help.
and there was nothing i could do except comfort her, let her smoke crack on my deck, try to feed her (although all she would eat was reese's p.b. cups and chocolate milk).
i bought her cigarettes, and tried to get her to sleep.
crack makes you an insomniac.
i didn't want her to leave after 3 days but she had to. she was out of drugs. and i was exhausted. and she promised to enter rehab. but i never heard from her. and knew that entering rehab was a lofty goal at this point in time.
i prayed for her safety. i hoped she was alive.
and now i know she made it through.
and i don't know how she did it. i don't know what it's like. i can only imagine.

school is for suckers

back at school with new people and no old friends.
autumn is my favourite time of year and yet i'm feeling miserable and tired and older.
i love the smell of crisp apples, riding my bike with a sweater on and the rustling of falling leaves.
and yet, i'm feeling dissident and blah.
my best friend, with whom i now live, hates me. and now my monday classes are full of people who know eachother but nobody who knows me.

close and no cigar

ok. didn't really stay on that straight and narrow pathway. but close.
plus i'm still not smoking ciggies. yay. so for that i'm awesome.
but couldn't lay off the sauce for 2 weeks.
2 more exams.

and i'm trying to decide what to do with this space.

it has been over a month

this last month has been quite the blur.
the end of school was (and is) looming...it was a time of complete craziness and stress and assignments and essays and turning 30 and drinking and quitting smoking. yay me.
and now, starting today, i'm back on the path of the straight and narrow. one more week of school then exams. today i woke up serious.
serious about studying. serious about eating. and serious about a mini-sabbatical.
no drinking until exams are over in 2 weeks. no junk food bingeing. and no more being late for school and my tutoring job. in which case, i'm out...

much needed purge

it's been a while since i've cried. but tonight my own mother made me cry.
but atleast i feel real again. emotions are overwhelming and sometimes need to be exorcised like a demon.
i believe douglas coupland once called it the "emotional ketchup burst" (generation X, 1991).
i guess i've been bottling it up for a while. and it felt good.
and so does this glass of pinot noir and some dark chocolate.

Words to live by: "Your 20s are muck and shit and pain and loneliness and horror." ~Douglas Coupland

turning 30

why is 30 such a milestone? i don't know why i don't want a big party, i just don't.
and it's not that i think i'm getting old...the number means nothing to me.
if anything it's a celebration that my 20s are finally over.
so why must everyone insist on having a party?
why is it any different than any other birthday?
and why do you think i'm going to regret not having one?

stoopid facebook

so here i am...addicted to facebook.
and i stayed far far away from myspace...successfully.
and now this.
i got suckered in and now i can't stop.
who are all these people? i can't even remember these people who want to be my friend.
this is so very strange.

hypersensitivity in the morning

after my morning jog i passed a lady who smelled like that cheap soap you get at the dollar store...like fa bodywash or something.
flaring my nostrils, i happened to cross paths with an old tanned man who smelled of florida...like panama jack tanning oil.
made me want to go on vacation.

blueberry pancakes and bad news

so it was dad & daughters day yesterday.
sis and i took pops to a toronto rock game (lacrosse is the best ever)
went for brunch before the game.
as i'm shovelling eggs and hashbrowns into my mouth (i was hungover and starving) pops decides to tell me that they found a mass on his kidney.
i looked up mid-forkful and the rest played out like a movie.
i laughed and said, "get outta here"
and looked across at my sister.
she dropped her eyes. there was no smile there.
"you're joking right?"
"no", pops says.
as the smile slid off my face. suddenly i couldn't swallow. my throat constricted, like last week when boiling hot soup got past my tongue somehow and my throat clamped shut to protect my esophagus from being burned, but instead gave me burns in the very back of my mouth.
it hurt. like this hurt.
i looked at my sister again, who looked at me. her eyes were empty. i couldn't read anything on her face, except that she didn't know how to feel either.
my dad kept eating. he was never one to show emotions.
very machismo. comes with the heritage i guess.
just like the cancer that runs in his family.

snow snow snow and more snow

we finally got some of the good ol' canadian white stuff this past v-day.
so we did what any good canadians would do...bundle up like stay-puft marshmallow men, grab some krazy karpets, and hit the closest hill.
let me tell you, when you're approaching 30 you're just not as light and nimble as you once were...so the karpets move slower, and in your attempt to push yourself even further down the hill, the walk up seems way longer than it used to.
we lasted a good 20 minutes or so before we were so frozen that a cold beer seemed like the best idea.

check out our deck...we opened the door and a whole bunch of snow fell into the house.
i think it's time for a bbq (if we can find it)

feng shui and monkeys

this is why the L.A. zoo is publicly funded, i guess.

oh wait. here's my favourite quote:

"we don’t have any books on feng shui for monkeys. we have to assume that Darwin is correct and that there is a connection and what is good for humans is good for monkeys"

brilliant.

the rise or fall of the ttc?

one by one the passengers let out sighs of anger, helplessness, distress--all bundled into one heavy breath....between pursed lips and open mouths.
and it's making me giggle ridiculously while the driver adds to the tension by consistently braking at the last minute before a stop--the sound of grating metal.
maybe the streetcars breakdown as ttc's secret revolt: get the loyal riders frustrated during rush hour in the hopes that the people will get through to the government.
the union's not working anymore--there's no funding for our public transport.
maybe the new grassroots revolution begins on the 504.

fat fingers with big rings

i don't know why it bothers me so much. but when i see a man with fat fingers wearing those big gold rings, i shiver.
it's not the fat fingers alone...but with those crazy rings.

health and human rights

i've always entertained the idea of going overseas either as a nursing student or when i become an RN.
and it's not so much the ideology of "saving the world" so much anymore, as it was when i was 16...i'd like to think i'm much smarter than that now
but i did still have a small hope that maybe i could help out in some way...put my skills to use, even if it just helped one person.
two weekends ago i attended UofT's Health and Human Rights Conference....some really great speakers--among them Dr. Gerald Caplan, senior advisor to Stephen Lewis...he was fascinating and entertaining
much of the talks related to war zones and/or africa's hiv/aids epidemic.
a couple of the speakers brought up the notion of humanitarian tourism, as opposed to humanitarian aid.
it really made me re-think my ideas.
to sum up, they pretty much said that humanitarian aid shouldn't be just a band-aid. it can only be that way for so long, until you have to start advocating for reform in the country's own health care system. as an HCP going overseas, you should be going with a plan...the plan being how to make it so that you're actually not needed there.
with about 25% of med school students taking electives overseas, some countries have become saturated with students who are there as band-aids...and many times not knowing what to expect once there...potentially not being of much help at all.
and the money spent on airfare by students could actually be of more help if donated to trained professionals on the ground.

i can definitely see the point there for countries in conflict. however in order to find somebody who is willing to commit themselves to helping make those changes, that person has to see and experience first hand what they will eventually commit to.
so if out of those 25% of students go, 24% are of no help, perhaps there will be that 1% that will be the ones to have a plan and make those changes.

aside from war-torn countries, i think i'd still like to go to a country that could use help with education and or clinical rotations. maybe somewhere in south america, or parts of africa that aren't necessarily in conflict, but need bodies to help with hiv/aids education and clinic set up.
and yes, i'd have to pay for it. and yes, i realize that the money i spend could go to potentially stock a whole clinic full of medical supplies. but i know this, and still wish to experience it myself. and i don't look at it as anything other than humanitarian tourism on my part.

the inner eyelids of cats

i actually have wondered this.
my crazy kitty sleeps on my face, so i have plenty of time to check out her eyes.
it's weird.

cleaning out gmail

old story, i know.
but seems fitting, considering it's 12 degrees and raining in ontario on january 6th.
have i secretly moved to vancouver and forgotten?
it's also not january 6th anymore. but that's when i wrote this.

resolutions

i hate new year's resolutions.
they never work.
too much pressure.

so my resolution is always to never make resolutions and then secretly tell myself to get in better shape, eat well, keep running.
because those aren't resolutions for a new year, i tell myself.
those are just things i should do.

and now more.
it's not just calories and jumping jacks.

back to school

starting monday, i sleep a lot more.

snoozing my way to straight As...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

death by firing squad

this is crazy.
same story, different angle.

take action.

confessions of a cyberchondriac

combine the internet with my nursing textbooks and i swear this schooling is making a hypochondriac out of me.

funny story.