RANT LINE

“He hit on me.” What do you mean he “hit” on you? He beat you? Took a swing? What does that mean? Why does the idea of ‘going for it’ or ‘taking a chance’ have to be related to violence? What on Earth does that say?!
And another thing --- wife beaters. Who the helllll? That’s a double-edged sword right there. For anyone wearing one, do you beat your wife or significant other? For those who do…if you clothing is really the tell-tale sign we have a problem. I don’t think we should be looking at your tendency to wear tank tops, but then again, if it were covered in blood…

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I was watching this guy sleeping on the metro. I people watch, it’s not a crime –unless I sat down and drew a mustache onto his face. Then again, I don’t think that’s a crime…just a little Awesome! He was interesting to watch. His eyelids were fluttering (REM anyone? “It’s the end of the world as we know it…and I feel fine”), fairly good bone structure, brown hair, rosy cheeks, nicely shaped eyebrows (natural, not plucked) …but alas, I am getting distracted. He was wearing 2 polo shirts. 2! And BOTH collars were up. Now I’m all for the popping your collar thing --- but not BOTH! There should not be a BOTH involved in this story. What is up with that? Why couldn’t he just be a normal guy with good bone structure sleeping on the metro?

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Someone please explain the following to the men, boys, guys, ogres (whatever terminology you see fit) in this part of the world. Women DO NOT like to be groped by strangers; be it in the street, at a bus stop, in a club or on their way to the restroom in a restaurant (!!!) I promise you, this does not make you more attractive, it only increases the likelihood that you will be slapped or kicked in the groin.

That is all.

It was a 15 hour day

Today I had a brunch date with a friend; we planned to go to Tutti Fruitti after I finished work. So brunch was in essence, lunch. While crossing the street my friend saw a store – Morning Glory. I’ve lived in Montreal for a few years now, been to this mall a million times, and I work a 3-minute walk away. I have never been into this store, never even heard of it.

For her, it brought back memories of her childhood. This was one of a few western mainstream (though I wouldn’t really call it mainstream) stores in Nairobi, where she grew up. We walked in and it was fantastic! Huge eyes, cute smiles, puffy cheeks, foreign symbols and pastels! I love those powder blues and baby girl pinks. Charms and notebooks, pencil cases, Kleenex box covers, floor mats, mugs (with lids!), change purses, erasers with crater-holes ---they had it all! And I wanted it all! The inner, ubber girlie 13 year old came out today (and that has only happened twice after the age, and yes, it had to do with a super cute boy) and it was awesome! I bought a notebook I didn’t need, an eraser for Meghan, a blue clip for no reason, a change purse (yess!) that I will stare at intently. And a cute diary for my mom. I saw a million little trinkets I will go back for. My room will be full of Babu and Blue Bear stuff soon enough :)


My friend went a little crazier… I do believe she got $55 worth of random stuff. This is what nostalgia can do to a girl. Tell me you don’t miss your Hello Kitty backpack?!!

We chatted with the owners at the cash, the woman asked, “You like my store?” With smiles spreading across our faces we nodded. Apparently they’ve been around for 10 years – have I been living under a rock???!!? I plan on hitting up all the Hello Kitty stores I find in chinatown this weekend, it should be good. :)
*the notebook I got for myself … not very characteristic of the rest of the items in the store, but it called out to me…

On another note. Tonight Joannie Rochette skated for Canada. Her mother recently passed away, yet she skated, not for a medal, but for her mother. I cannot begin to imagine what she has been going through, my thoughts, well-wishes and prayers are with her and her family tonight. I am in awe of Joannie’s strength, only a person with such immense courage would be able to do what she did tonight.


xoxo.

All Dianas are nice

I had a nervous breakdown once. Or twice... or more for those closest to me, who know this happens ever so often. But the time in question was one night, not too long into my new position as a junior officer. There was this little girl named Sahar – the cutest thing on the face of this planet. Just adorable. She would grab hold of both my hands, face me and just jump, trying to see how high she could get if she pushed off of me. I was very new to this whole kid-thing and I was terrified. A friend of mine was talking to Sahar the weekend before and she was asking her about her day at school. She asked her about her teacher, let’s call the teacher Diana. You know what my friend told this adorable little thing? Well she asked her a question, she asked her, “Did you know that everyone named Diana is really nice?”. Sahar didn’t buy into it. But then my friend asks, is your teacher nice? Sahar answers “yes”. My friend continues, “well I know someone named Diana, too and she is also very nice” Sahar is beaming at this point. So ALL Dianas are really nice.

Now why can’t I do that I thought? Why is it that 10 seconds into a conversation with someone who isn’t about the age of 18 I lose my words, I get nervous and my voice gets high pitched? I cant think of a single thing to say and I feel absolutely ridiculous. I wish I could be like my friend. But then, while standing in line a week later, this little girl is holding my hands and trying to jump up so she can show me that she’s taller than me and let me tell you, I fell in love. I saw the same beaming face – and I could not have been happier. I was so happy I wanted to cry. This was the beginning of a very good relationship.

But then later that night Sahar looked upset, so I took her hand and led her away from the crowd and asked her what was wrong. She was hesitant, but she began speaking in a very hushed tone. She was upset about something and I tried to comfort her as best I could. But then I did what led to the breakdown (on my end), I got down on my knees to speak to her. My heart started to beat super fast, I got nervous, I was upset at myself. What was I doing? Inferiority complex anyone? How dare i?! did I just bow down? What was I doing, trying to make her feel smaller by making it more evident that she was in fact smaller than me? I got home that night and told my mom the whole story, through tears. I hated myself, I wanted to quit. This poor little girl trusted me and I treated her like an inferior being … she must have felt it. Children are very perceptive. I probably made it even worse.

My mom calmed me down, and then asked me to think about the rest of the conversation. Did sahar get up happier? Was she calmer after we chatted about what was bothering her. I could answer yes to both those questions. Well maybe kneeling wasn’t such a horrible thing to do. Maybe I wasn’t exerting power or demonstrating my higher position, maybe I was showing her that I cared and that I understood. I was on the same plane as her, I was not ‘coming down’, I was simply trying to understand and to do that I needed to be closer to her.

I am still head-over-heels in love with Sahar. Every time she sees me a huge smile spreads across her face, the same goes for me. When I see her I am filled with such happiness, I feel amazing, and I feel so hopeful and warm and proud that I almost cry – every time. I also feel scared, I am afraid of what is out there and how they will react to it, and what will come next. I wonder what I’m doing for them, if those brief moments I spend with them really matter at all in the grand scheme of things. I hope they do. Actually I know they do. Maybe it’s selfish, or maybe I can’t gauge the effect it has on them because they have suh a long way to go and they cant necessarily come up to me and tell me. But they have had an enormous impact on me. I feel so privileged to have met all these wonderful children, I feel like if nothing, they have made me a better person. They have taught me compassion, they have taught me truth. I have learned to let myself go, to laugh without worry, to smile until it hurts, they have taught me the meaning of humanity. Humanity is in the feeling you get when you hear someon’s story. It is the hurt you feel when you hear about someone else who is hurting, it is the pride you feel when you hear about another’s success, it is in the tears you cry for another’s tears.

These are the most caring people I have ever met. They are the ones who are Always there to ask how you are, how your day went wipe a tear off your cheek, remember that you hate apples, but love apple crisp. I am blessed and I am wholeheartedly grateful. They taught me what it truly means to love, because they love you no matter what. They know what it means to open up your heart to someone no questions asked. And I love them for it.

Men anpil, chay pa lou.

Men anpil, chay pa lou.
Many hands lighten the load
-Haitian proverb

It was around midnight and I was walking back to a friend’s place. It had been a rough week and I needed good friends around me. We were going to drown all the bad stuff in kit kat ice cream, candy and sitcom reruns. While we’re walking we are talking about the earthquake that hit Haiti. I tell them I’ve been crying for days. I’m sad, restless, confused and I’m angry.

My friend says to us, “I’ve been crying for 3 days and I had no idea why … until now.”

Why do I cry? Because…
On January 12th ,2010 at 4:53pm a 7.0Mw earthquake hit Haiti.
40% of the population of Haiti is under the age of 18.
Parents send their kids out of their home town to work for families in other towns.
Some families do not have the means to care for their children, so they are left to fend for themselves.
When the earthquake hit, thousands died. Thousands were displaced.
Thousands of kids do not know where their families are, whether they are alive or not.
They do not have homes to come back to.

The dead are being thrown to the side of the road. They are being buried in mass graves.
They have no names. No one knows their stories.
2 Canadians were killed in Haiti during the earthquake – lavish ceremonies marked the end of their lives. Pictures were placed next to the altar at the church. There were eulogies, there were goodbyes and there were tears.
As sympathetic as I am to the loss of life and the pain their families must be feeling, I can’t help but feel angry. What about the thousands of people who have died in Haiti – where is the ceremony for them??? Where are their goodbyes? Who gets to hear about the great things they did, the wonderful people they were? They are left at the side of the road, forever anonymous.

I’ve been thinking about the after-effects of all of this and I can’t help but wonder what this can do to the morale of a People. I’ve read about the psychological effects of natural disasters, read about the aftermath of the Tsunami, of wars, of abuse, of neglect. Then I read this article that talked about psychological first aid. For weeks I’ve been reading articles, looking at pictures, watching videos of the disaster. I’ve thought about the hard work the people of Haiti have ahead of them. There is so much that needs to be done. They will need help, they will need money; and I’ve been giving what I can. I hope everyone else will do the same.

"Before, I always found a way to feed my son and send him to school," she says. "I don't see a future for him."
In the desperate international effort to help Haiti's children, relief workers hope to restore not only their physical and mental health but also their ability to endure — and even to dream.
Schneider wants to be an engineer. "If I made houses with metal roofs instead of using cement," he says, "maybe so many houses would not fall down, and people would not die."

Can you imagine being so broken that you lose the will to dream? That is something I cannot fathom and every fiber of my being wishes this couldn’t happen.

This is really something I cannot begin to understand. I have never been through something as devastating as what the people in Haiti are going through. I know what it’s like to feel broken though. And even though in the moment I have felt like there is no way to recover, that I have lost faith in everything and everyone around me, I somehow recover. I eventually pick myself up, I grow from the experience and I move on. But how do you move on from something like this? I am trying so hard not to be cynical and to hold onto the stories of hope and all the kind words. I try to think about how much people care and how generous they are being. I am sure the people of Haiti are very strong and knowing that they have been through so much in their history – why wouldn’t they be able to come out of this standing tall? But I don’t feel very strong willed right now and I worry. What do you tell a 3 year old child? How do you explain this? My textbooks talk about PTSD and the implications of such a devastating event. I have read case studies upon case studies about children who shut down, who become hardened. How do you prevent that? What do you do? What do I do?
When a mother says she doesn’t see a future for her son, I worry even more.

I have no idea where I am going with this.
I’ve been reading up on psychological first aid. Did you know that there is a chemical released in our bodies that help us deal with stress? Experiments were done in rats that showed that increased physical contact (touching, cuddling) increases the production of this chemical. If the production is increased early on, the level of production remains that high later on – this helps the animal deal with stress. But if there is little contact, there is less of the chemical hence; they are less able to deal with stress.
What does that 3 year old need right now? A hug.
So why am I crying now? Because I don’t know if he will get it.

welcome

I've been wondering for a while, how I'm supposed to start this. i feel like I might be talking to a wall, or myself. Thought I know at least 3 friends who will try to follow the verbal spasms I attempts to put into writing here.

I have a couple of posts written and stored away in the depths of my adorable mini laptop, password protected files and all (I just discovered that you can do that!). I did wonder about that though, why do I password-protect thoughts that I am putting on the World Wide Web? Hmm...weird thought.

Anyways, some of the posts are spur of the moment - others were written in recent weeks and I'll post them when I feel like it. :)


Enjoy!
Hope you enjoy peeking into my head...and going through the motions of life with me.