I want to know how to cook. And then when I know, actually do it.
I want to actively engage in my health, everyday, for ever. I've done this before, but for days, and weeks, I think I did it for 2 months in a row once... and then I ate oreos. Fuck they were good. I want to be one of those people that snacks on carrots, or peppers, dipped in a spread that was homemade and involved tofu, again, forever, not just once and then rewards herself with oreos!
I want to watch less tv.
I want to rest in different ways than watching tv. (someone hooks me up with a hammack)
I want to read more. Buy less books. Read them more.
I want to have more free time. I don't want to plan free time, I'd just like it to be (i think I have to move for this one to actualize, I wasn't meant to be a city person)
I want to be more kind and generous and loving with my partner.
I want to stop blaming my parents for everything. I want to be more loving of them, as they are, and for all the qualities they gave me.
I want to be more responsible of my financial choices. I want to pay people back that have kindly lent me money. Then, I want to get rid of some more debt. Then I want to finish this institutional version of education I started. Then I want to go back to doing the low paying jobs that I love. Somewhere else.
I want to want to have more sex.
I want to not be on anti-depressants anymore.
I want to not let negative energies impact me so much.
If I'm gonna blog, I better get to figuring out taking pictures and linking and everything else that is involved in blogging. awh shiat. i don't reallly want to work on this one, but i guess i'll add it to the list....
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
On being a shit disturber
Seems like I've always been a shit disturber. Really. When I was in high school, franco-ontarian language rights was my cause. I have memories of the evolution of my activism, from being unkind to english only speakers to experiencing not being able to communicate verbally and with my cultural understandings of body language, to advocating for multi-lingual access to language courses.
Market coworker, 25 yearls od, in Ottawa to learn english: "Ben la, on est au Canada, le monde devrait au moins pouvoir parler l'anglais ou le francais"
"Ca t'as pris 25 ans pour apprendre une deuxieme language, moi j'serais ben contente de lui en permettre autant avant d'avoir a en apprendre une 3ieme..."
Now I seem to have more shit to disturb. There's a pun here, as I start this blog while at the tail end of a gastro.
I get my politics from my parents, I've come to have to admit this after YEARS of ellongated teenage frustration. Both were political in their own working-class ways. My dad has a sense of social justice, and I hear tid bits of it when he talks about fairness (or what i'd call accessibility) in event organzing he used to do as president of the Optimist club, something I have dear memories of in my hometown of Vanier. My mom has outed herself as having similar feminist ideas, sparingly but always shokingly. "J'comprends pas poukoi on les laisses pas juste faire leurs jobs" when she talked about sex workers. Go Mom go. I'm a sexual health educator today, with a healthy sense of my body, thanks to her nude and non-chalant walks out of the bathroom. I grew up seing my mom naked, and I'd advocate for safe parental nudity anytime!
Despite knowing this, they have their issues, being human and all, and as only parents can, they have this magical way of pissing me off.
I think I'm just coming out of years of not allowing my parents to be humans. They should have been perfect, like all my friends parents, and I wanted them to be intellectuals and inspiring and funny and social and people with whom I could discuss political ideas.
But they werent. Instead, they taught me true survival skills, a sense of initiative and team work. I can do just about any job because of them. I know what I can do to be usefull when a group of people is working on a certain task. I have strong adaptability skills thanks to us moving around oh so much (I've been to 11 different schools thus far...). On that, I've gotten to experience living in a small town (when we were younger) and the city (when we became teenagers). Moving around so much, and meeting such a variety of people makes from strong communication skills. I feel comfortable around folks that are frustrated with just about everything (taxes, the neighboor, the government) and seem to feel powerless to change any of this or their own circumstances facing it. I can also chat it up with folks who spend 3000$, every year, for flowers on their front lawns. My parents spend their free time working on the house, I can't ever remember a time where there wasn't a renovation happenning, or at least some peice of furniture that was being stripped and stained or re-painted. I was never made to feel ashamed about how my body functions, it farts, it shits, it has zits in many places. "Ta marde a pu comme tout l'monde" is a famous sentence I heard in my youth. This, must've been my mothers way of keeping me grounded, and it did. My mom was always upset with my dad's assumption that dinner would be prepared, or that my mom would have a job that would allow for getting my sister and I ready to get to school or to make appointments... When I reflect on this, and the household chore battles I find myself in now, I certainly didn't give enough appreciation towards my mom for keeping it going. My mom disciplined us, which made her a target for the anger. She was the one making us do all the choresMy sister and I certainly did our share of household chores growing up (likely with a whole lot of repeated requests to get it done..), often what felt likew ay more than our friends were doing.. While I still beleive that there was an ounce of reality to this, I have often shared housing with folks that have no ability or pride in keeping a clean house. My mom swears that if she'd had boys, she would have demanded the same from them, and I wholeheartedly beleive her.
So, as they continue to be homophobic and continue on their gendered household chore ways, I gosta love them more. Point finale.
Market coworker, 25 yearls od, in Ottawa to learn english: "Ben la, on est au Canada, le monde devrait au moins pouvoir parler l'anglais ou le francais"
"Ca t'as pris 25 ans pour apprendre une deuxieme language, moi j'serais ben contente de lui en permettre autant avant d'avoir a en apprendre une 3ieme..."
Now I seem to have more shit to disturb. There's a pun here, as I start this blog while at the tail end of a gastro.
I get my politics from my parents, I've come to have to admit this after YEARS of ellongated teenage frustration. Both were political in their own working-class ways. My dad has a sense of social justice, and I hear tid bits of it when he talks about fairness (or what i'd call accessibility) in event organzing he used to do as president of the Optimist club, something I have dear memories of in my hometown of Vanier. My mom has outed herself as having similar feminist ideas, sparingly but always shokingly. "J'comprends pas poukoi on les laisses pas juste faire leurs jobs" when she talked about sex workers. Go Mom go. I'm a sexual health educator today, with a healthy sense of my body, thanks to her nude and non-chalant walks out of the bathroom. I grew up seing my mom naked, and I'd advocate for safe parental nudity anytime!
Despite knowing this, they have their issues, being human and all, and as only parents can, they have this magical way of pissing me off.
I think I'm just coming out of years of not allowing my parents to be humans. They should have been perfect, like all my friends parents, and I wanted them to be intellectuals and inspiring and funny and social and people with whom I could discuss political ideas.
But they werent. Instead, they taught me true survival skills, a sense of initiative and team work. I can do just about any job because of them. I know what I can do to be usefull when a group of people is working on a certain task. I have strong adaptability skills thanks to us moving around oh so much (I've been to 11 different schools thus far...). On that, I've gotten to experience living in a small town (when we were younger) and the city (when we became teenagers). Moving around so much, and meeting such a variety of people makes from strong communication skills. I feel comfortable around folks that are frustrated with just about everything (taxes, the neighboor, the government) and seem to feel powerless to change any of this or their own circumstances facing it. I can also chat it up with folks who spend 3000$, every year, for flowers on their front lawns. My parents spend their free time working on the house, I can't ever remember a time where there wasn't a renovation happenning, or at least some peice of furniture that was being stripped and stained or re-painted. I was never made to feel ashamed about how my body functions, it farts, it shits, it has zits in many places. "Ta marde a pu comme tout l'monde" is a famous sentence I heard in my youth. This, must've been my mothers way of keeping me grounded, and it did. My mom was always upset with my dad's assumption that dinner would be prepared, or that my mom would have a job that would allow for getting my sister and I ready to get to school or to make appointments... When I reflect on this, and the household chore battles I find myself in now, I certainly didn't give enough appreciation towards my mom for keeping it going. My mom disciplined us, which made her a target for the anger. She was the one making us do all the choresMy sister and I certainly did our share of household chores growing up (likely with a whole lot of repeated requests to get it done..), often what felt likew ay more than our friends were doing.. While I still beleive that there was an ounce of reality to this, I have often shared housing with folks that have no ability or pride in keeping a clean house. My mom swears that if she'd had boys, she would have demanded the same from them, and I wholeheartedly beleive her.
So, as they continue to be homophobic and continue on their gendered household chore ways, I gosta love them more. Point finale.
what to charge for anti-oppression training
I'd say i'm anti-capitalist. a very in debt, often hungry, anti-capitalist. I quite enjoyed the all pay-scale part of the Anarchist bookfair last weekend, and although it just lasted for 2days, I still freeze for a second when I'm asked to pay something "full -price".
I am a worthy, worthwhile educator. I know this is a skill that deserves a fair pay, and that I invest in every time I read a book and attend a workshop, which I do a whole lot of. I'm absolutely happy getting food or a great tshirt in exchange, and of course I wouldn't do this work if I didn't feel nourished by it. I want to trust peoples sense of ethics and quite understand limited budgets. I've been paid, with money, 0-225$ an hour, and its varied wether or not I got paid for prep time. So what's the answer to "how much do you charge?"
I am a worthy, worthwhile educator. I know this is a skill that deserves a fair pay, and that I invest in every time I read a book and attend a workshop, which I do a whole lot of. I'm absolutely happy getting food or a great tshirt in exchange, and of course I wouldn't do this work if I didn't feel nourished by it. I want to trust peoples sense of ethics and quite understand limited budgets. I've been paid, with money, 0-225$ an hour, and its varied wether or not I got paid for prep time. So what's the answer to "how much do you charge?"
More points for bicycles
Having a bedroom that gives onto a boulevard, I sleep with earplugs. I also share a bed with a lawnmower, but that's besides the point.
Cars are noisy as is. Why are they sooo entitled to be even noisy-er with their fucking car alarms going on, the horn going on and on until the owner scrambles to find the remote key thing and figures out the double pressing system that makes the damn thing stop.
Bikes don't do that.
Cars are noisy as is. Why are they sooo entitled to be even noisy-er with their fucking car alarms going on, the horn going on and on until the owner scrambles to find the remote key thing and figures out the double pressing system that makes the damn thing stop.
Bikes don't do that.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Very first entry!
I'm a blog newbie. Please be patient with me as I slowly, likely very slowly, figure all this out.
I guess I should explain why I decided to come on over to the not so dark side.
I've had quite an interesting year. I lost a job that had become my entire identity (this is unhealthy and un-recommended), I've been struggling with a severe depression, addictions, food, love, surviving... All this in a canadian, mostly able bodied, female, educated, white body.
Identity might be a dominant theme of this blog. (geez, it's hard not to just write EVERYTHING out on the first entry!) I've had many experiences, some horrible, many humourus, that somehow needed to be remembered and logged. Many mentors asked me to write about all these experiences, so here I am, here it is.
If I'm sounding defensive, it might stem from a old though that blogging was mostly self-indulgent and demonstrated a huge lack of confidence. I imagine that most new bloggers feel the need to ask "Who da fuck cares about my thoughts and realities?" Apparently, a few kind folks do, but pardon the cheeze; i'm doing it for me. I intend to use this blog as a cheaper version of a website. Perhaps soon I'll learn of a better way...
Also, I'm a sexual health and anti-oppression educator. I've been kept busy with word of mouth "advertizing" but I've come to a point where I'd like to direct folks to an online place, where I could have further ressources and work towards better accessibility (this word will be dissected soon)
Very soon, I'll be working with a FANTASTIK colleage, as soon as we figure out our orgs. name...
I guess I should explain why I decided to come on over to the not so dark side.
I've had quite an interesting year. I lost a job that had become my entire identity (this is unhealthy and un-recommended), I've been struggling with a severe depression, addictions, food, love, surviving... All this in a canadian, mostly able bodied, female, educated, white body.
Identity might be a dominant theme of this blog. (geez, it's hard not to just write EVERYTHING out on the first entry!) I've had many experiences, some horrible, many humourus, that somehow needed to be remembered and logged. Many mentors asked me to write about all these experiences, so here I am, here it is.
If I'm sounding defensive, it might stem from a old though that blogging was mostly self-indulgent and demonstrated a huge lack of confidence. I imagine that most new bloggers feel the need to ask "Who da fuck cares about my thoughts and realities?" Apparently, a few kind folks do, but pardon the cheeze; i'm doing it for me. I intend to use this blog as a cheaper version of a website. Perhaps soon I'll learn of a better way...
Also, I'm a sexual health and anti-oppression educator. I've been kept busy with word of mouth "advertizing" but I've come to a point where I'd like to direct folks to an online place, where I could have further ressources and work towards better accessibility (this word will be dissected soon)
Very soon, I'll be working with a FANTASTIK colleage, as soon as we figure out our orgs. name...
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