I think the thing we hate most about death is that no matter how much we try to control for it and accept that it happens as a part of life, it leaves us helpless and feeble when someone does die, and we can't do or say the right thing to comfort a person who has just lost someone they love.
The right words...
...Wish you were here.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
October 30/13
Okay, it seems another celebutante has sparked an internet furor by posting a picture of herself in a halloween costume that is, well, uh...rather foolishly planned out, to put it mildly.
The person in question chose to dress as Big Chief from the Disney classic film 'Peter Pan.' And this person's rather unfortunate defense in less than 140 characters was that "A Native American costume was AN OPTION at a Halloween store." In other words, it was there, so it must be legit.
Well, you can imagine this went over like a lead balloon among the internet-savvy politically-correct, and, well, actual Native Americans and First Nations (as we're known north of the border).
The next line of defense was that she was dressing as a Disney character. This could be a fair point, except for the part where this character comes from a time and context that plays on the rather unfortunate understanding of the Indigenous peoples of North America, which disastrously translates into a caricature of a prominent position in a cultural and ethnic group. What she's failing to account for is that Disney took something significant or sacred to a specific class of individuals (an ethnic group) and turned it into a profane object of mockery. To put in into situationally-comparative context, it's the equivalent of saying it's okay to wear Blackface if what I'm really dressed as for Halloween is a Vaudeville actor or Al Jolson. .
The next line of defense, proffered by someone I believe is a cousin of the young woman in question, is that the family of said young woman has a historical claim to some descent from a particular tribe. I know that in the US, actual claims to Native American heritage often have to meet a blood quantum rule before being considered legit, and I can't speak to the eligibility of this young woman to make that legit claim for membership of her tribe or nation, but I would ask her and her cousin if either young woman really, really, really believes it honours her ancestry and/or family members of Native American descent to mock the sacred, ceremonial headdress of a Chief, made with the feathers and skins of sacred, honoured animals by wearing a fake headdress made of cheap, coloured, plastic, manufactured feathers (not blessed by a shaman, holy person or tribal elder). Because I have to say, I don't think that is how I would defining "honouring."
Miss M. went of a Twitter rant about the whole episode, to which I responded that I was proud of her. This led to a friend questioning me about why dressing up as something (e.g. a Native American) is viewed as something disparaging rather than honouring that thing, and made a guess that I dislike Disney and the Pocahontas movie and costumes. Yes, in fact, I have a strong dislike for Disney and it's gross portrayal of a historical figure in the name of a quick buck. I'm also not digging the Mulan thing either (though I do like Cricky and the Dragon). What sets those apart from most other Disney characters is that by and large, the Disney pantheon is made up of characters from myths and fairy tales, figments of imagination and folk tales from yore. These are not based on real people recorded in history. If you need to know why it's disparaging instead of honouring, see previous two paragraphs.
By these feckless pieces of "logic" strung together, I guess that tomorrow, I can get away with dressing like "white trash" and call it honouring Caucasian American culture because I'm dressed as a Trailer Park Boys character. Yet somehow, I don't think my mother, brother and sister would find it all that amusing. I think it would be seen as a little ignorant and even mean-spirited because the intent is to make a point in an inconsiderate way.
I'm a member of a First Nation. I don't dress up as "an Indian." I don't put on a fake headdress and call it honouring. I don't even put on a real headdress...because I'm not a Chief or a shaman or holy person or respected elder. I just don't do it, because I honour what those positions mean in that culture.
I think the more interesting question to ask my friend first is this: Why do you think doing it could be considered an act of honour towards a culture? What intent could exist to justify the act of dressing as a caricature?
A respectful end to this debate...
...Wish you were here.
The person in question chose to dress as Big Chief from the Disney classic film 'Peter Pan.' And this person's rather unfortunate defense in less than 140 characters was that "A Native American costume was AN OPTION at a Halloween store." In other words, it was there, so it must be legit.
Well, you can imagine this went over like a lead balloon among the internet-savvy politically-correct, and, well, actual Native Americans and First Nations (as we're known north of the border).
The next line of defense was that she was dressing as a Disney character. This could be a fair point, except for the part where this character comes from a time and context that plays on the rather unfortunate understanding of the Indigenous peoples of North America, which disastrously translates into a caricature of a prominent position in a cultural and ethnic group. What she's failing to account for is that Disney took something significant or sacred to a specific class of individuals (an ethnic group) and turned it into a profane object of mockery. To put in into situationally-comparative context, it's the equivalent of saying it's okay to wear Blackface if what I'm really dressed as for Halloween is a Vaudeville actor or Al Jolson. .
The next line of defense, proffered by someone I believe is a cousin of the young woman in question, is that the family of said young woman has a historical claim to some descent from a particular tribe. I know that in the US, actual claims to Native American heritage often have to meet a blood quantum rule before being considered legit, and I can't speak to the eligibility of this young woman to make that legit claim for membership of her tribe or nation, but I would ask her and her cousin if either young woman really, really, really believes it honours her ancestry and/or family members of Native American descent to mock the sacred, ceremonial headdress of a Chief, made with the feathers and skins of sacred, honoured animals by wearing a fake headdress made of cheap, coloured, plastic, manufactured feathers (not blessed by a shaman, holy person or tribal elder). Because I have to say, I don't think that is how I would defining "honouring."
Miss M. went of a Twitter rant about the whole episode, to which I responded that I was proud of her. This led to a friend questioning me about why dressing up as something (e.g. a Native American) is viewed as something disparaging rather than honouring that thing, and made a guess that I dislike Disney and the Pocahontas movie and costumes. Yes, in fact, I have a strong dislike for Disney and it's gross portrayal of a historical figure in the name of a quick buck. I'm also not digging the Mulan thing either (though I do like Cricky and the Dragon). What sets those apart from most other Disney characters is that by and large, the Disney pantheon is made up of characters from myths and fairy tales, figments of imagination and folk tales from yore. These are not based on real people recorded in history. If you need to know why it's disparaging instead of honouring, see previous two paragraphs.
By these feckless pieces of "logic" strung together, I guess that tomorrow, I can get away with dressing like "white trash" and call it honouring Caucasian American culture because I'm dressed as a Trailer Park Boys character. Yet somehow, I don't think my mother, brother and sister would find it all that amusing. I think it would be seen as a little ignorant and even mean-spirited because the intent is to make a point in an inconsiderate way.
I'm a member of a First Nation. I don't dress up as "an Indian." I don't put on a fake headdress and call it honouring. I don't even put on a real headdress...because I'm not a Chief or a shaman or holy person or respected elder. I just don't do it, because I honour what those positions mean in that culture.
I think the more interesting question to ask my friend first is this: Why do you think doing it could be considered an act of honour towards a culture? What intent could exist to justify the act of dressing as a caricature?
A respectful end to this debate...
...Wish you were here.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
October 29/13
There are people who just push my buttons and bring out the worst in me.
The other day, I reaffirmed my belief in and commitment to allowing for end of life choice on Twitter. It's my personal account, and I'm free to express myself there.
It led some random woman to tweet at me about her opposition, painting it all as euthanasia, and we ended up in a Twitter fight, with her being irrational and me being rude, which ended after I blocked her this evening.
Why did you block her, Fancy? That's not your style, normally you fight it out to the bitter end.
Well, the decision was made after she tried to threaten me through my career. At that point, I knew it was a waste of time to continue with this farce. It was going nowhere good.
However, it got me thinking. In her warning, she pinpointed my job and location. The job is no big deal, it's right there in my Twitter account profile:
The other day, I reaffirmed my belief in and commitment to allowing for end of life choice on Twitter. It's my personal account, and I'm free to express myself there.
It led some random woman to tweet at me about her opposition, painting it all as euthanasia, and we ended up in a Twitter fight, with her being irrational and me being rude, which ended after I blocked her this evening.
Why did you block her, Fancy? That's not your style, normally you fight it out to the bitter end.
Well, the decision was made after she tried to threaten me through my career. At that point, I knew it was a waste of time to continue with this farce. It was going nowhere good.
However, it got me thinking. In her warning, she pinpointed my job and location. The job is no big deal, it's right there in my Twitter account profile:
"I am under construction. And I kinda like it that way. By day, a loud-mouthed policy analyst, by night a mild-mannered human being."
But how would she know that I live in Ottawa, when my Twitter profile lists my location as being "Tiptoeing on the Edge"?
The only conclusion to draw is that she's visited this blog and/or google-searched me. Meh, it is was it is, I've made no bones about how I feel about dividing my personal and professional life. During working hours, I am a professional, and I conduct myself accordingly, but I still maintain that off-hours and unpaid periods during the working day, I am a Canadian like any other, entitled to my beliefs and opinions. I maintain a strict silence on my file and those of my colleagues, not commenting on them. Period.
The whole episode bothers me. That neither of us could conduct ourselves in a way that is conducive to actual debate is regrettable; that it devolved into this is just frustrating.
Regardless, I'm back to where this all started, I still affirm my belief in end of life choice and my commitment to push for the right to a good death for persons who choose it.
The perils of internetting...
...Wish you were here.
Monday, October 28, 2013
October 28/13
I'm afraid I need to keep this short tonight, as I tweaked my wrist a lot at bowling.
Yes, bowling. It was a United Way event at work, and I sort of expected it would happen, as old pains and woes from my youth bowling days revisit. My wrist started falling apart near the end of my YBC days, and ultimately, I gave it up because I was losing my delivery. My form is still as solid as ever, but the wrist just can't support my delivery anymore, at least not without stabilizing support.
There was an awkward moment when I berated my ADM (my boss's boss's boss's boss) for using my personal bowling balls. Everyone who has been in league bowling knows and respects the convention: you don't play with another player's personal balls. It's just not done. Sure, in some circumstances, when there is a personal or intimate relationship, there is some possibility of wiggle room, but for strangers and near-strangers, there is not. But this fella, well, he's used to things that are set apart, and when he say two balls that look different, bearing at least one of his initials, well, I don't think he even gave it any thought. And I'm not shy about my stuff. I charged up there and told him he could at least ask. I don't think he's used to being challenged much. Especially by some rude employee. But tough. We're on our personal time, and on the lanes, he is not my ADM, he is a work colleague attending a work function, and he is still messing with my stuff.
Bring it on...
...Wish you were here.
Yes, bowling. It was a United Way event at work, and I sort of expected it would happen, as old pains and woes from my youth bowling days revisit. My wrist started falling apart near the end of my YBC days, and ultimately, I gave it up because I was losing my delivery. My form is still as solid as ever, but the wrist just can't support my delivery anymore, at least not without stabilizing support.
There was an awkward moment when I berated my ADM (my boss's boss's boss's boss) for using my personal bowling balls. Everyone who has been in league bowling knows and respects the convention: you don't play with another player's personal balls. It's just not done. Sure, in some circumstances, when there is a personal or intimate relationship, there is some possibility of wiggle room, but for strangers and near-strangers, there is not. But this fella, well, he's used to things that are set apart, and when he say two balls that look different, bearing at least one of his initials, well, I don't think he even gave it any thought. And I'm not shy about my stuff. I charged up there and told him he could at least ask. I don't think he's used to being challenged much. Especially by some rude employee. But tough. We're on our personal time, and on the lanes, he is not my ADM, he is a work colleague attending a work function, and he is still messing with my stuff.
Bring it on...
...Wish you were here.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
October 27/13
There are just some places that I would rather not go. Like Legends Records on Wellington.
This place is in a basement, which doesn't actually bother me. This place sells ridonkulously over-priced records, but it's got a massive inventory thank includes things I'd never find around here, to that's something that can be overlooked for the right album.
No, what bothers me is the whole joint stinks. Etienne thinks it was just the lunch of the sales guy, but I did ask him if it smelled bad the last time he was there, so I don't think the lunch had anything to do with it. The place smells like old chives and rotting onions. This does not encourage me to return.
Beware the stinky record store...
...Wish you were here.
This place is in a basement, which doesn't actually bother me. This place sells ridonkulously over-priced records, but it's got a massive inventory thank includes things I'd never find around here, to that's something that can be overlooked for the right album.
No, what bothers me is the whole joint stinks. Etienne thinks it was just the lunch of the sales guy, but I did ask him if it smelled bad the last time he was there, so I don't think the lunch had anything to do with it. The place smells like old chives and rotting onions. This does not encourage me to return.
Beware the stinky record store...
...Wish you were here.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
October 26/13
Do you ever eat in a restaurant alone? I do.
There are times when Etienne is busy or out at work, and I just don't want to cook (or I don't have proper groceries to do so), so I'll find a place to go that we don't normally to (usually because of a lack of food items for his special diet), and order food that I don't tend to have at home. Like bacon. I know that the smell of bacon is the one thing that triggers him--he likes the smell of it, but won't eat it, so I don't torment him by having bacon for myself in the house.
This afternoon, I needed food, and he needed to go to the store, so we went our separate ways. I headed straight to Zak's because I can get all-day breakfast and indulge my desire for bacon. It didn't matter that I don't want the rest of the breakfast in particular, especially because my normal breakfast of tea and toast covers 25% of what I'm served at Zak's--I just wanted my bacon.
But enough about bacon. Because this is supposed to be about dining out alone. I don't actually mind it. I tried bringing a book a couple of times, but I just felt weird, like I was trying to live up to some goofy stereotype about dining alone. The truth is, I'm good to just sit and hang. Watch the world go by. In my little shorty booth for two. Hey, how's it going? So, you got the rye bread, huh? Yeah, I'm a white bread girl. Hey, are you divorced? Are you just spending time with the kids before you have to head out to the hockey game while the co-parent takes care of things, or is this your scheduled visit time? Yeah, I know...it sounds weird, but honestly, people-watching is just amusing.
So yeah. Obviously, it doesn't bother me to be alone at a restaurant.
A bar, on the other hand...well, hell, that's just awkward...you feel like the lone gazelle at the watering hole, wondering not if, but which one of the starving predators will pounce.
Next time, I'll have to try the new Pho place (or hell, the old Pho place) to see if it's to my liking before I try to take Etienne there.
Still, in spite of all of this...having company is nice too :)
Let's grab a bite soon...
...Wish you were here.
There are times when Etienne is busy or out at work, and I just don't want to cook (or I don't have proper groceries to do so), so I'll find a place to go that we don't normally to (usually because of a lack of food items for his special diet), and order food that I don't tend to have at home. Like bacon. I know that the smell of bacon is the one thing that triggers him--he likes the smell of it, but won't eat it, so I don't torment him by having bacon for myself in the house.
This afternoon, I needed food, and he needed to go to the store, so we went our separate ways. I headed straight to Zak's because I can get all-day breakfast and indulge my desire for bacon. It didn't matter that I don't want the rest of the breakfast in particular, especially because my normal breakfast of tea and toast covers 25% of what I'm served at Zak's--I just wanted my bacon.
But enough about bacon. Because this is supposed to be about dining out alone. I don't actually mind it. I tried bringing a book a couple of times, but I just felt weird, like I was trying to live up to some goofy stereotype about dining alone. The truth is, I'm good to just sit and hang. Watch the world go by. In my little shorty booth for two. Hey, how's it going? So, you got the rye bread, huh? Yeah, I'm a white bread girl. Hey, are you divorced? Are you just spending time with the kids before you have to head out to the hockey game while the co-parent takes care of things, or is this your scheduled visit time? Yeah, I know...it sounds weird, but honestly, people-watching is just amusing.
So yeah. Obviously, it doesn't bother me to be alone at a restaurant.
A bar, on the other hand...well, hell, that's just awkward...you feel like the lone gazelle at the watering hole, wondering not if, but which one of the starving predators will pounce.
Next time, I'll have to try the new Pho place (or hell, the old Pho place) to see if it's to my liking before I try to take Etienne there.
Still, in spite of all of this...having company is nice too :)
Let's grab a bite soon...
...Wish you were here.
Friday, October 25, 2013
October 25/13
Fancy, where the fuck have you been?
Well, living a half-life of unsettling and resettling.
We've moved. With little fanfare and a lot of headaches, stress, aching backs and strained muscles and patience, we stopped being residents of the Golden Triangle, and became residents of the Market. It's a long, complicated, rage-inducing story, but if we could write the book on how NOT to do a move, we would. We spent most of September in packing and painting mode, and most of October in unpacking and settling-in mode. I've thought about coming back to the blog on many occasions, but by the end of the day, I'd usually betired exhausted and it's taken a lot of energy to try and settle into the new place with a new routine.
So it's strange that I have so many things every day that I could share here, but the one that pushes me back is my non-relationship withmy father-in-law Etienne's dad.
I'm a difficult person, and admittedly, I set high expectations for people in my life, so I have trouble dealing with it when my expectations have created problems. I own my part in this failure, and I'm often sorry for it, though there aren't usually opportunities to say so. So if we've had any rifts in the past over it, I'd like to apologize. I'm a work in progress, and I hope that I'm moving in the right direction.
Etienne's father and I haven't connected. The fact is, our personalities clash. I always tell myself that I should work on improving the relationship because I don't want to be the cause of any troubles or rifts between father and son, but then something happens to upset me, and I'm back where I started. There are so many reasons why I would not receive a seal of approval: I'm older, divorced, don't want children, and that's just for starters. I'm also an atheist, an anglophone (to be fair, these are more about my own insecurity than anything that has been reflected in interactions with the father), and I'm strong-willed. Ultimately, we come from different worlds, and there isn't much common ground to build a relationship on.
I want to encourage father and son to maintain a relationship--I know that as people age, they find comfort in their relationships. I've also seen enough fences mended around me to know the benefits. Furthermore, I was pretty traumatized when Rod's father suddenly past away, knowing that theirs was a close, loving father-son relationship cut short. Family matters a great deal to me. Mine, though not the model of a Norman Rockwell painting, is my rock, and I know despite the distance (both physical and emotional at times), we'd walk through fire for each other. I don't want Etienne to have regrets about family, which compels me to work on bettering my relationship with his family. Hopefully the French lessons will help bridge a lot of the gap (Oh, yeah, BTW, I'm in French classes), but the rest comes down to there being enough to at the very least build a creditable, polite relationship.
So all of this to say that in recent weeks, things have been said or inferred which indicate that I am facing an enormous amount of work with the father, and I have to be aware that because I can't "convince" his son to get married, I might be facing a doomed task.
Knowing I can't win them all (and frequently don't), there's not much more to do or say...just have to get back to work.
Because family matters...
...Wish you were here.
Well, living a half-life of unsettling and resettling.
We've moved. With little fanfare and a lot of headaches, stress, aching backs and strained muscles and patience, we stopped being residents of the Golden Triangle, and became residents of the Market. It's a long, complicated, rage-inducing story, but if we could write the book on how NOT to do a move, we would. We spent most of September in packing and painting mode, and most of October in unpacking and settling-in mode. I've thought about coming back to the blog on many occasions, but by the end of the day, I'd usually be
So it's strange that I have so many things every day that I could share here, but the one that pushes me back is my non-relationship with
I'm a difficult person, and admittedly, I set high expectations for people in my life, so I have trouble dealing with it when my expectations have created problems. I own my part in this failure, and I'm often sorry for it, though there aren't usually opportunities to say so. So if we've had any rifts in the past over it, I'd like to apologize. I'm a work in progress, and I hope that I'm moving in the right direction.
Etienne's father and I haven't connected. The fact is, our personalities clash. I always tell myself that I should work on improving the relationship because I don't want to be the cause of any troubles or rifts between father and son, but then something happens to upset me, and I'm back where I started. There are so many reasons why I would not receive a seal of approval: I'm older, divorced, don't want children, and that's just for starters. I'm also an atheist, an anglophone (to be fair, these are more about my own insecurity than anything that has been reflected in interactions with the father), and I'm strong-willed. Ultimately, we come from different worlds, and there isn't much common ground to build a relationship on.
I want to encourage father and son to maintain a relationship--I know that as people age, they find comfort in their relationships. I've also seen enough fences mended around me to know the benefits. Furthermore, I was pretty traumatized when Rod's father suddenly past away, knowing that theirs was a close, loving father-son relationship cut short. Family matters a great deal to me. Mine, though not the model of a Norman Rockwell painting, is my rock, and I know despite the distance (both physical and emotional at times), we'd walk through fire for each other. I don't want Etienne to have regrets about family, which compels me to work on bettering my relationship with his family. Hopefully the French lessons will help bridge a lot of the gap (Oh, yeah, BTW, I'm in French classes), but the rest comes down to there being enough to at the very least build a creditable, polite relationship.
So all of this to say that in recent weeks, things have been said or inferred which indicate that I am facing an enormous amount of work with the father, and I have to be aware that because I can't "convince" his son to get married, I might be facing a doomed task.
Knowing I can't win them all (and frequently don't), there's not much more to do or say...just have to get back to work.
Because family matters...
...Wish you were here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)