Modern Times

Hero Worship

2012-02-29T14:14:00.000-05:00

Me with Michele Landsberg, a personal hero.

Last night I went to a showing of Miss Representation here in Toronto that was hosted by Crankytown.ca and Fresh Restaurants. In a curious twist of the universe and it's gazillions of electrons, one of my own personal lifelong heroes attended as well. I am beaming with her in the above picture.

If any of you know her then you will not be surprised at her lofty status in my own story. She is a feminist. She was the only feminist in any mainstream Canadian media throughout my childhood. Her weekend columns were shared ritualistically and often aloud at the dining room table by my mother with a pot of coffee on lazy weekend mornings in our pyjamas. My mother often vocally cheered for her. She also often remarked on what a pioneer this woman was. My young fertile ears soaked this in.

I blame my mother, and Michele Landsberg, for my 16 yo daughter coming home one late night last summer and saying: "Thanks Mum, you've made me a feminist and boy am I angry." She was upset by the contradictory manner her male friends treated the females in her larger social group. I knew that my most compelling role as a parent had been fulfilled at that moment. Thanks Mum. Thanks Michele.

A couple of years ago I added Michele as a friend on facebook. My political connections on facebook had grown to the point that her name kept being suggested as a friend. I sent her a message informing her of her pivotal role in my formative years and how honoured I was to be connected virtually with her. She wrote back and thanked me, THANKED ME !?, for giving her the inspiration to keep plodding away finishing her latest book (Writing the Revolution, which is now on my to read shelf).

That message from her impressed me even further. Michele has a long road behind her of inspiring and serving the voices that are misrepresented in our culture. And last night, she shared with me her views on this awareness raising film in a manner that continues to reflect her absolute dedication to humanity: "Everyone needs to see this film."

Namaste Michele. I pledge to light my torch with your flames and soldier on towards the day when we can all stand up and say: WE Represent.

Satisfactorily Single

2012-02-13T12:12:00.000-05:00

Myself at Macchu Picchu: Satisfyingly Single

How many ~~middle aged~~ people get to take off, with a couple of weeks notice, and go on an adventure?

The look of envy I've witnessed in the telling of my adventure tale of the last few months is curious. I think all of us retain a sense of the wonder we experienced as a child when many things were brand new to us. I think also that we are conditioned, as a species, to move towards stability in order to best provide for the continuation of our species. Nomadic societies are successful but you and I are not likely direct descendants of them. Our current world is ensuring the complete extinction of any remaining nomadic societies although the final frontier (space) may create an entirely new society of space nomads in the future.

I've spent a lifetime caught up in the mating trap. I have been heavily conditioned by both nature and nurture to believe that 'every old sock has an old shoe'. And, if I just went fishing often enough, then I too would land my catch. I could write a book on my dating adventures (first internet date was in 1996, yes, 1996). I met one person for a coffee back in the late 1990s and he told me he just wanted to have a viewing of what a woman looked like that would put an ad up in a singles column. After experiences like that you would think I would have given up but alas, the reproductive mating urge is strong so I soldiered on.

Not once in my quest did I ever stop to think that being single is a viable option. A viable permanent option. During periods of not actively searching I would be buoying myself up to launch yet another search for "Him".

A few years ago I came to the conclusion that perhaps I was just too wounded to be partnered and I accepted, if not embraced, that reality and ended the search. A truism came to life shortly after that decision, I fell in love. A marvelous love affair ensued and the ending revealed to me that yes, I may be wounded but no, I can overcome that if I wish to. And a new decision was arrived at: I am satisfactorily single. I am not single because I am wounded (all of us have baggage, mine is mostly stowed away). I am not single because I am damaged. I am single because I cherish my independence. I cherish my lack of commitment. I am single because I am an explorer at heart and to change my marital status would involve relinquishing something more precious to me than even my daughter: my independence.

I look at the frenzy surrounding The Official Day to celebrate coupledom and think bravo for you if you find fulfillment in a partnership. I have also found fulfillment there, at times. But the fulfillment I am experiencing as a single adventurer so greatly outweighs my former aspirations I wonder why as a society we are not offering up this choice to younger people right from the get go. "Happily Ever After" can and should involve a solo option.

Mayonnaise and Aeroplanes

2012-02-04T15:15:00.000-05:00

As of the end of February I will have travelled over 50,000 kilometres around the globe in the past calendar year.

That might seem shocking but chances are, in any given day, the ingredients in the food you will eat and the drinks that you will consume will have travelled much more than that.

How is it that we now live in a world where people don't travel large distances that often but our food does?

About a year ago I went to the travelling Titanic artifact exhibit in Kitchener and it really stuck me then how many people were travelling a century ago. Technology had progressed to the point that large luxury liners were being built and people were taking advantage of this and going off and exploring. And today, with travel technology having advanced to the point that the middle class should be able to well afford travel often, it is not happening like I suspect that our forefathers of a century ago would have predicted. My grandfather was born in 1912 and three of his far flung children allowed him to visit three continents with regularity, especially upon his retirement. His passing in 1996 allowed my mother to pass along a small amount of money to me that I used embark on my first solo hostel trek to the Rockies and down 101 to San Francisco. I chose to do that with his money in order to honour him and acknowledge the tremendous influence he had on my explorer nature.

So, fast forward back to today. I had the chance to re-watch this compelling video promoting local food consumption in Canada. Ironically, this video just happens to be made by a food company owned by Unilever, one of the world's largest multinational food corporations.

Re-watching this video and pondering the ethics of a multinational creating a local food promotional video got me thinking of my recent travels. Especially the travels I've taken since having strict dietary restrictions. I have been dismayed by many food 'movement' related things. I think that some of these concerns would be most easily presented in a list form:

The westernization of the Peruvian food system: quinoa, a grain I cook with a lot, is native to South America but I only saw it on one menu down there whereas wheat, a non-native South American grain, permeates their food culture now. I really expected to see this item (and corn) to be pervasive. But sadly, wheat based products were the norm for breakfast/lunch items that were provided by all of the travel industry hospitality providers (hostels/hotels/plane/trains/tourist delis/cafes).
A traditional Parisian delicacy is the macaron. These are supposed to be made with almond flour. In Paris I had a difficult time finding ones that did not have gluten-based flours added. Only the really upscale cafes had them.
In Newfoundland it has become a bit of a joke with my family. The outport stores and restaurants are nearly entirely supplied by Kraft. And who knows? Maybe Hellman's (Unilever) is hoping to penetrate outport Canadian markets with an ad like the one above....there is only Miracle Whip (Kraft's competing salad dressing product) on the plates for most of Newfoundland and perhaps in other remote locations throughout Canada too.
Everybody marvels about the food in New York City so I was surprised at how difficult it was to find food that wasn't laced with gluten and dairy. However, the Big Apple redeemed itself when we found Friedman's Lunch via a Manhattan gluten free search on yelp. This delicious place is located in Manhattan's historic Chelsea market and I heartily recommend a trip there followed by a stroll along the adjacent High Line if you get a chance.

So again, I ask....how is it that a century ago the western culture was focussed on shipping people around the world and in the span of 100 years we now ship food around the world? A We are shipping basically homogenized food that is easy to grow, store, and prepare (wheat/soy). Local cultures are being processed into extinction. It is readily recognized by every culture on the planet that food is a unifying force and the rituals around food are what bring people together. If a culture can not claim their own local specialized and easily available food then it is less likely to have a strong community.

Food is a linchpin in all religions and given the long lasting and pervasive power of all of the major religions I think us food activists could take a page from them. The more we scream LOCAL the more likely we will succeed not only in community building but also the preservation of localized culture. And if Unilever, or any other person or organization of power, wants to use food to further their own agenda we should be throwing our hats into the air with a celebratory cheer.

Me at Friedman's Lunch in NYC December 2011. Best gluten free hamburger, ever!

Happy Imbolc!

2012-02-01T14:20:00.000-05:00

Today marks the official start of spring according to my druid/celtic ancestors.

I don't know about you but I've certainly noticed the recent changing sunrise and sunset times. Actually, I've always been attuned to the delight that is inherent in spring. When I was a child/young adult I attributed that to the fact that I am a spring baby. Then, after being newly pregnant throughout one spring, I remembered the anticipation I had and the delight of creating life.

And now, I realize that there is actually scientific reasons for this delight. Vitamin D to be more precise. The increase in sunlight causes an increase in Vitamin D and voila - more energy! I regard this magnificent exchange between our Sun and our bodies to be quite delightful. And besides that, you never hear someone say they are depressed and bursting with energy now do you?

I look forward to new possibilities this spring. I had the good fortune to run into a fellow explorer yesterday that I hadn't seen in a few years. She and I exchanged so many ideas over the course of a few hours that I feel today that my brain is like a fully stocked seed storage vessel. I now feel like I have a vast new array of new things to explore. Meeting up with her, a sympatico explorer, solidified my recent realizations about freedom and I feel blessed that I can pick and choose which ideas to pluck out and to grow in the future.

One fresh idea I learned from her coincides nicely with the first day of spring. It is called various names but I especially like Chi Farming. My fellow explorer friend is of Chinese heritage and I love that her idea, delivered to me yesterday, brings a sort of unity of our two cultures on today, February 1st, the ancient Irish first day of spring. A day traditionally set aside to officially start preparations for the new season of growing. The notable increase in light available for longer days outdoors made this day a good marking point. If we reclaim this day we can also use it as a day to be mindful in our gardening preparations in order to maximize the fruits of the life force provided by our earth, sun, and moon.

So, this year I am eager to join in the preparations for spring that were first honoured formally on this date by my ancestors. I am going through my seeds and making plans for my small urban garden. I am also thankful that my explorations have allowed me to feel the resonance of new ideas such as that of the chi farming concept. I am especially hopeful this year since I consistently have started feeling that life is coming together more often than falling apart. My own Chi is realigning.

Ballycrovane Standing Stone: A Sacred space on the extreme west of Ireland,
Beara Peninsula, Cork - where my maternal family comes from.

The Protein Prerogative: Market Mondays

2012-01-30T14:24:00.000-05:00

I first found solace by preparing food from scratch in the kitchen as a child - I even had a recipe published in a community cookbook back then. So I guess I could say the preparation of good food has been a lifelong passion for me. In early adulthood I became interested in food mechanics and that led to me learning more and more about the different types of food and sources of nutrition.

In my evolution into a full blown hippie I had the mandatory vegetarian and then vegan phase. And upon my first major episode of what was eventually diagnosed as MS I voraciously devoured all the current scientific literature (there is very little) and other respected material on food and disease.

Thus, suffice it to say that I'm an autodidactic food warrior.

And my knickers are really in a knot about protein these days. Last weeks Toronto Council Committee meeting that squashed the possibility of urban chickens in Toronto added oil to a simmering ember.

Everybody worth their nutritional salt knows that protein gives us the most energy bang for your buck. That's why the mega-food industry created a whole new market aimed at sports enthusiasts that centred on protein. Protein shakes are something that many of us consume as a result. It used to be that mom would go outside to the coop and pluck a few eggs to fry up for breakfast. Now people reach for the whey powder and the blender.

Food sovereignty centres around protein, in my not-so-humble-autodidactic-view. On one side of this issue are the people screaming for sustainability: ergo meatless mondays etc. On the other is the organic food lobby: Whole Foods meats Birkenstocks. Or to boil it down to what these two sides tend to really represent: vegan/vegetarian versus carnivore/pescatarian.

Having been an ethical vegetarian/vegan for a number of years I recognize the gleams of the fervent believer. Part of me is still very sorry that this option didn't work out for me....at about the five year mark of this 'lifestyle' I was craving fish so badly I 'caved'. Remarkably I felt the energy difference almost immediately. It wasn't until years later, when I was delving into all the nutrition literature, that I understood what had happened to me on that vegan/vegetarian diet. My five year stint eventually led to a reduction in energy and a confusion of my body as to how to best replenish it. My self published vegan cookbook had ample recipes with all the right protein combinations and I made them regularly yet I was still looking for more. This is why I returned to dairy so quickly and then eventually 'succumbed' to the energy lure of fish and then 'happy' meats (ethically farmed or hunted meats).

So protein is a bit personal, to me. Especially since I now follow a diet that prescribes a very strict regimen in order to prevent any more myelin sheath from being damaged and may even help to rebuild the stuff that is already damaged. It is a strict but simple approach and the previous link gives all the science behind it. It is simple in that it is very easily outlined: no gluten, no dairy and no legumes. But the execution of this diet is anything but simple.

Coprorations are out to make profit - they distribute shares to people (or other corporations) that believe that they can make a profit. I think the Occupy movement has managed to illuminate this plain and simple Business 101 fact home to us. We are also starting to recognize that our policy makers should be democratically elected but often are simply pawns for the powerful corporations that hire lobbyists that 'hire' politicians. As my mother, the accountant, is fond of saying, we should always follow the money.

If I was a food corporation looking to make money for my shareholders then I would like to do it in the most efficient manner possible. Not necessarily effectively, although my food product labelling may claim so. So what if you were looking to provide a protein product efficiently? You certainly wouldn't choose meat, poultry, fresh dairy, eggs or fish unless you could factory farm or unethically harvest fish. You likely wouldn't choose nuts due to allergy concerns. You'd look around the world and see what protein based substances grow quickly and easily and can be processed into protein products and you'd end up with two sure fire winners: soybeans and dairy. Michael Pollan told the food world a few years ago that Americans are basically walking corn stalks due to the pervasive nature of corn and it's derivatives throughout our food chain. I posit that the sustainable food movement might transform people into dairy laced soybeans and they will be aided and abetted by the handful of global multinational food corporations that not only feed much of the world but also control the food for most of the world.

Like religion, food can be a force that divides or amalgamates communities. In my solace laced kitchen during the last week I pondered the negative affect that my neurologist approved diet has had on my ability to go out and easily commune with food. In a world controlled by huge food companies that seek efficiency I realized that this is not likely to change anytime soon, if ever in my lifetime. And in a world filled with ignorant policy makers like those on that city council committee, I won't be farming my own protein source anytime soon here in Toronto.

But I can start screaming from my soapbox (blog) about it. The sustainability of our food system is NOT about reducing your meat intake - although that helps. What would help sustainability (and overall health!) even more would be a commitment by each household to create at least one meal a week, from scratch, with food that is ethically grown - and ideally from a local farmers market that has ethical vendors. Market Mondays, anyone?

My body is a cage.

2012-01-24T12:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a bad MS day for me. I am considering using a cane when walking in public so that I can be certain of maintaining balance. It might also help remind me that, um, I have balance issues. The thing I don't like about carrying a cane is the actual carrying of it. My arms are in pain when I have bad days and carrying something might prove to be very annoying. And you know what else is annoying? Non-working accessible door openers.

Earlier in the day yesterday I read of someone whose mother died of MS at aged 58.

The inner dialogue kinda took off from there. Add an argument with my daughter and I've pushed myself into an early grave with blindness and the complete lack of mobility preceding it.

What exactly is 'living bravely' with a chronic disease supposed to look like? Does this mean that when you have bad days, like the one yesterday, you shut up and put up? You try and stuff those dark and twisty thoughts deeper into the closet of one's mind? On days like yesterday I have a sort of temporary schizophrenia. My 'higher' voice says things like: "Oh c'mon, you're not that bad, you are walking and can see...don't mind the bit of eye trouble you are having today and that balance thing comes and goes...and I know the arms are painful today but that also comes and goes." My "lower" voice says things like: "You are physically washed out, how could you be dreaming of starting a business that requires any sort of manual labour...you're an idiot. Why can't you just focus on using your brain to earn a living? Isn't that why you went to graduate school for a decade? It's too bad you didn't finish that phd...you wouldn't be in such a panic now, would you? It'd be nice to have the benefits of a tenured job now, wouldn't it? I guess you are really meant to be one of the have nots in this world, you really are a loser."

And on it goes. A good cry sometimes helps, and it did yesterday, a bit. I actually turned to music for relief. A friend of mine made a request for my ten favourite songs of all time. So I got working on a youtube playlist which will greatly exceed ten songs but will provide a nice distraction from life's realities for awhile.

Peter Gabriel - My Body Is a Cage - The funniest videos are a click away

Stand By Me

2012-01-22T11:51:00.000-05:00

In the summer of 1984 a friend of mine had an abortion. In the Canadian mid-eighties this was considered a radical thing to do. It involved the exchange of money and a trip to a clinic that may or may not have had pro-life protesters marching in front of it on the day of your appointment.

A further complication for my friend was that we were catholic so the whole mortal sin thing was hanging over our heads. I say our heads because I lent her money for the procedure. So, in fact, I aided and abetted the committing of the sin that was to prevent my friend from going to heaven directly upon death.

I now know that I was what we call book smart nowadays but man, I was a long way from being life smart that summer I was 17. And as a mother of a now 17 year old girl I see the mirror reflection of this reality.

This abortion was quite necessary for my friend. Her parents were staunch roman catholics and she would have been kicked out of the home and goodness knows where her life would be today. One thing is for certain though...it would have been a much rougher ride for her and that yet unformed child.

My musings of this time are brought on by my recent Linkedin re-connection with the religion teacher I had that year. He is now a principal of a catholic high school. I wonder, in his prior role of a religion teacher/counselor, how many young women he had to discuss abortion with. Because he did with me. My friend's abortion caused a major moral dilemma in my life. The first voiced dilemma of what would turn out to be many fruitless hours spent worrying and wondering if 'god' would be happy with my earthly actions. This young religion teacher, at the time of this moral quandary, was fairly new in his career and not too far removed from the hippie protests I know he participated in against things like nuclear arms. At this point of his new career he was also leading bus loads of people to the very pro-life protests my friend could have faced on the day she went for her 'secret' abortion. I don't remember much of what he said regarding my moral quandary but I do remember he pleaded with me to support my friend in her decision, in whatever form that took. This advice had the effect of soothing my conscience - at the time. Many years later I felt outraged that he had managed to bypass the whole pro-life debate with me and for that I am sure he was quite grateful.

Seeing his name pop up this morning as a new connection on Linkedin floods my mind with these thoughts. Thoughts of incongruent teachings by the church of my birth. A church that provided many opportunities for moral quandaries in my life. Parents separating/divorcing/annulling? Check. Not going to church regularly? Check. Not going to confession/communion regularly? Check. Eating meat on Friday? Check. Not giving up something for lent? Check. Masturbation? Check. Pre-marital sex? Check. Shacking up before marriage? Check. Marrying in a different church? Check. Using birth control? Check. Raising my child in the church? Check. A homosexual sibling? Check. Husband abandoning marriage and infant child? Check. Wipe slate clean with an anullment? Check.

Looking back on all those life events that shackled my moral compass for years I feel exhausted. I feel exhausted because the years I spent under the duress of the obligations of mother church were so futile. I can not take on the church. Any church. But as a parent I am proud to report that these shackles have been removed from my child. Her moral compass lies within and my hope for her is that this freedom will allow her to channel her youthful energy into making the world a better place. Because, you see, for too many generations my family has been segued through life with the roman catholic church observing and directing from the moral rafters. Enough is enough. I severed the cord and claimed complete moral responsibility for my child early on in her life and am almost ready to release her into the world. She will have complete freedom to choose whatever tools she needs to nurture her own moral compass and I will support her as best as I can with her choices. For isn't that the best we can do? My high school religion teacher thought so too and made sure I heard that above all else. I think I might send him this blog post as a thank-you. I hope he 'gets' it.

Be still my bleeding heart.

2012-01-19T13:10:00.001-05:00

At four years of age I recall having a sense of wonderment and fulfillment when I escaped the confines of our modest home in order to explore our neighborhood. Alone.

The family story about these occasions involve me escaping my bedroom in the early mornings in order to galavant, unescorted, around my downtown Toronto 'hood (Coxwell and Danforth). One particularly notable occasion involves me using a screwdriver in order to pry open the lock my parents had put (in desperation) on ~~my bedroom~~ the front door. These early morning escapades must have scared the bejesus out of my parents. Not in a 2012 way though. This was 1971, in the era before mass publicized child abductions. Four year olds were accorded a lot more intelligence and street smarts back then.

I have no recollection of guile when performing these Houdini like efforts. What I recall, with pristine clarity, is the glorious feeling of freedom that I had to observe and marvel at the world around me. One particularly crystal clear memory from that time involves me staring at what I now know is a bleeding heart plant that was in a neighbour's backyard. I couldn't tell you now if I stared for a minute or an hour. A plant that grows pretty pink hearts. Kinda incredible isn't it? I still think so.

In fact, I can tell you that each and every bleeding heart plant that I have seen in the subsequent 40 years has brought a smile to my face due to the recollection of the joy and marvel I experienced as a four year old seeing it for the first time.

And now, when my heart is seemingly bleeding from the despairs and regrets that are searing through my middle age, I can turn to my four year old self and remember that I will always have the ability to view the world with marvel...as long as I 'escape' whatever is holding me back. And if I had the smarts to figure out how to do this at four years of age, I most certainly can do so at 44.

RHRN: Joyfully Disconnecting

2012-01-09T10:36:00.001-05:00

I have become a person that gets startled regularly by moments of exquisite joy. I just had one of those moments.

And, thanks to my newly installed blogger app and wifi, I am taking a few minutes to give more airtime to this stream of consciousness from the comfort of my bedroom.

Most of my startling moments of joy do not take place in proximity to a publishing device such as the iPod I am currently writing on. I do not own a cell phone so I am frequently 'disconnected'.

In writing that last sentence I arrived at the very crux of the matter. In the culture I am immersed in I am regarded as disconnected for not having a mobile communication device that is ON AIR 24/7.

However, the very state of being disconnected allows me to be regularly startled. Not by the buzz/ beep/ringtone of a mobile though. I get startled by moments of such exquisite joy that I literally have to sometimes fight tears back when to share them would be socially awkward, These moments of joy are like pearls from the banquet of life and leave me feeling connected to every last morsel on this planet and beyond. I am humbled and often overwhelmed by these moments (ergo, tears).

I feel unprepared for these moments because it seems to me like the events and culture I am nearly constantly immersed in are so extraordinarily opposed to where and how I am experiencing joy.

Today's moment of joy, the one that prompted this impromptu broadcast, is not one that I could explain easily. In fact, I think it could take a book or a 10 part miniseries to explain how I arrived at it's zenith.

Joy has become like that for me. It is as if my life contains a near infinite supply of puzzle pieces and all of a sudden WHAM... a bunch of them slam together and create a piece of art that can literally move me to tears.

So for me, for now, I think I'll remain 'disconnected' and see if I can ever start mainlining this joy stuff. After all, it is not likely to happen if I'm constantly pixelated and not taking in the RHRN (right here right now) world.

[pic was via a friend's fb feed and was likely one of the 'puzzle pieces' that inspired this morning's moment of joy... original pic is from this wonderful collection: http://stomaster.livejournal.com/1102877.html#cutid1]

Nollaig na mBan

2012-01-06T10:08:00.001-05:00

"A strong woman."

I heard this slip out of a man's mouth as I passed by him walking my dog in my local Toronto hood a couple of years back. The comment was uninvited and he did not use these curious words as a greeting. It seemed to be merely an observation of my aura. At the time I wondered briefly if it was a figment of my imagination.

It wasn't the first time I had been called those words and it wasn't the last. At times I curse this reality, for it is often a very lonely road. At other times, like my chance encounter with the street side truth teller, and more recently, with the grandson of a Peruvian jungle shaman, I feel honoured that the core of my very being is acknowledged. I daresay that as I age, I embrace these words more and more.

Fortunately for me, there is an ancestral custom that is specifically geared to celebrate strength. The strength of women, to be precise. In Irish it is called Nollaig na mBan and it translates to Women's Christmas. The date of this celebration is January 6th (today).

And so today I am preparing for my second annual weekend brunch to celebrate this festival. I hope to continue with this tradition that my mom first reinstated on this side of the pond a couple of decades ago.

For our family this custom involves a gathering of women and homemade food and small gifts that are brought together in order to nurture and celebrate the awesomeness we are. The date for this celebration is generally chosen some time after the hustle and bustle of holidays. I recall a few February gatherings at my mom's. This year I have the good fortune to be able to celebrate twice...once in my home and the week after at my mom's home in Newfoundland.

If you are a woman reading this, please consider taking a moment to reflect on your own strength and the strength of those around you. And others, take a moment to reflect on the primal female/uterine strength it took to get most of us out and about on this planet.

Felis Catus: Venato ergo sum

2011-12-28T11:09:00.000-05:00

Domestic Cat: I hunt therefore I am.

Hunger/Boredom (mostly likely boredom)
Opportunity Spotted (something to hunt)
Goal Set (decide to nail a target)
Appraisal of Situation (best launch point)
Maximize the Utility of Personal Surroundings (take up a different position if necessary/able)
Wait, Patiently, Until Goal is Within Reach (watch, listen, and learn)
Posturing (align yourself with target)
Pounce (leap of faith)
If Goal Achieved (target is met) go to step 10, otherwise Repeat steps 1- 9, Possibly with the same target.
If Hungry, Eat. Otherwise - Let Go and Repeat steps 1 - 9, Possibly with the same target.

In 2012 I think I'll try to take a page or two from my cat.

My head is bursting.

2011-12-14T00:54:00.000-05:00

Me at Machu Picchu, Peru December 3, 2011

I have had two weeks that will change my life.

I know this with a certitude that has escaped me in the past other than yes, I wanted to breed and yes, I would attend university (for much longer than the average bear...as it turned out).

I have no idea how my experiences from the last two weeks will change me. But, then again, I didn't know how going to university and becoming a mother would change me also. The uncertainty of the outcome is part of the deliciousness of the certitude.

My linear mind wants to force the experiences into tiny boxes and, to be honest, on facebook I just status-ed about my 4 distinct vacations/destinations along with a distance count (nearly 20,000 kilometers by plane, train, and automobile).

I think I will allow a few days of processing and leave this post as an indication of things to come.

Loco pero feliz en el Perú

2011-12-02T21:19:00.001-05:00

Machu Picchu, Peru

Tomorrow morning I will be taking the train to Machu Picchu. I am in Peru and have been for the last four days. The first two days were spent in Lima. The last two days have been spent in Cusco, acclimatizing to the thin air of the Andes. I think I am ready to take on MP.

I am a little stunned by the experience so far. The trip was suggested, confirmed and planned within about 3 weeks of take off and two of my friends are with me. Two friends that did not know each other before this trip. Two friends that are now probably life long friends after the last 4 intense days and the remaining 5.

There are internet cafes everywhere in this very tourist centred town and I am sitting in one right now. A TV is blaring downstairs in Spanish. A spanish radio station is playing in the cafe. There are traditional dancers in the small plaza up the road. I just negotiated two solas off of the purchase of a universal adapter for charging my new battery for my camera. I know about 20 words in Spanish - which is an increase of about 15 words from 5 days ago....language is not my forte!! Earlier this evening, we all enjoyed a 1.25 hour long full body massage (without the ´happy´ ending that a young man offered one of my young travelling companions earlier! :).

I am literally overwhelmed by the new tastes, sounds, smells, experiences and interpersonal and individual growth I am experiencing.

I met a 64 year old woman from Calgary at our hostel in Lima. We felt sympatico in our mutual sense of adventure. She was about to leave after spending six weeks in Peru, including three weeks homestaying and learning Spanish in the area I am now in. I feel, like she did, that to pick up and go on a whirlwind cross planet trip (she did hers with six weeks notice for her six week trip) is either a real sign of insanity or of joie de vivre.

Or both :)

Joyous Anticipation.

2011-11-26T14:36:00.001-05:00

In a wee while we shall return to courting more frequently.

I will love your early morning kisses. Especially at the bedroom window.

And our late night cuddles with me in light clothing and you and your naked brilliance finally put to rest for a short nap.

Every year you abandon me for another hemisphere.

And I am a microscopic moon, unable to resist your allure when you return.

Since every year you do return, dear Sun.

You are a right rascal for being so reliable.

Nourishment 101

2011-11-21T14:17:00.001-05:00

"Her eyes were quivering." I am a voracious reader so I no doubt have read this description more than once in my life. Until this past Friday night I hadn't witnessed it first hand without emotions overwhelming me simultaneously so the trite description didn't immediately spring to mind in real time.

I have a certain type of face. The type of face that strangers regularly approach for directions. And the type of face that says: You can confide in me; I am all ears and empathy. I can thank genetics for this - it runs in the family. At times it can be uncomfortable but it is always a moment of real communion with a fellow human.

I had such a moment on Friday night. I attended the approximately bi-monthly, and for now, roving St. Jamestown Community Café. I learned about this endeavour at the monthly (intentionally roving) Foodie Drinks. The organizers I met (Nancy Slamet and Lucas Lu) certainly captivated my interest and I attended not only to support their efforts but also as a detective. I was sussing out the vibe in order to bring back info to my upcoming community association meeting. The St. Jamestown Community Café is hoping to eventually create an incubator model for other cafés and since Nancy herself interned at the long time successful Queen Street Commons café in Kitchener, I have tremendous faith in the likelihood of the success of the St. Jamestown Community Café.

St. Jamestown community café Friday November 18th, 2011.

I spent most of the evening parked in the same chair munching down on delicious and healthy food that attendees purchase using a pay-what-you-can system so that anyone, with any means, can come participate in the café. The pay-what-you-can model has been utilized in a few well known establishments and I foresee a huge increase in it's use due to changing worldwide economic circumstances and the increasing popularity and acceptability of social enterprises.

While I stayed stationary at the same table, the cast of characters surrounding me completely turned over three times. I first enjoyed an amusing rapport with three long term residents (30+years!) from the community. These three women have raised children and buried husbands together. The only one with a walker departed by getting up and dancing her way to the front of the room (where the musicians were providing an excellent foot tapping show) before returning to collect her walker and go home. I was still giggling when a much older woman with a walker came through the door.

The elder woman's paid caretaker saw my now empty table and got the woman seated and her walker stashed away before going to collect her a plate of food. The woman settled quite close to me and I asked her her name. She told me and was quite delighted to find out that I knew it was italian since one of my own neighbours that is about the same age (91) has the very same unusual italian name that has fallen out of favour since the earlier part of the 20th century.

This woman was as sharp as a tack and her immediate familiarity with me was a little daunting but quite enjoyable. We meandered our way through the niceties and I found out that she too is a long time resident of St. Jamestown and in fact moved to the area after her mother died in Kapuskasing, ON. She was 20 years old so that means that she has lived there for over 70 years! A veritable walking history book!

In the course of the conversation I thought to ask her if she had any children. That is when her eyes started quivering and I simultaneously thought of the trite phrase whilst panicking at what I was to find out. "Yes, my daughter. But she left me. Five years ago. I buried her. She had taken a job since she was broke. She hit her head. Her work didn't phone a doctor, and so she just went to bed that night. AND DIED." I capitalize since by the end of this halting speech the tiny frail woman was wailing. And I was bawling. And during the course of her delivery I had instinctively reached out and grabbed the tiny arm and felt the life force of this woman humming along, albeit in vast amounts of pain. I could not choke back my sobs. So we sat there and cried a bit with me holding on to her arm with both hands now - an awkward but universal type of embrace that is instinctive to humans sharing pain. After a few minutes I said that I applauded her courage to get up every day and go out and that no mother should ever have to bury a child. After a few more weepy minutes we gravitated away from the subject and she entertained me with stories of her life as a cleaning woman in Toronto and her cat and the bedbugs that her nursing home is fighting. She left after eating a healthy sized meal for a 91 year old and I hope to see her again.

The last cast of characters at my table were also fascinating and engaging people. Two of them were the musicians finally enjoying their repast after entertaining us so wonderfully. In fact we were all so engrossed in conversing with one another we were literally kicked out (laughingly)! I had not realized that the tables were being packed up around us and ours was the very last table to be dismantled and put away.

Kudos to the St. Jamestown Community Café. If my experience can be considered representative of other attendees, I have no doubt that your community development efforts will be successful. I left the event nourished completely in both body and spirit and I can't imagine any other measure of success that such an effort would desire.

Brand Spankin'

2011-11-15T10:22:00.000-05:00

Marleeville November 15, 2011

I've seen both of them, but rarely together. Actually I've seen the three of them but only once altogether. I've seen them many times in the last few weeks. They are always walking down the middle or on the side of my uptown suburbanish wide street. They never walk down the sidewalk. I've seen them in the sun, wind and rain. And at all times of the day.

The thing about not keeping a regular schedule is that it is a little like stepping up onto the desk à la Dead Poet's Society: You get to see the world and it's happenings through a sort of prism rather than just a plain clear glass. A neighbourhood is a dynamic place and not just full of people getting up and regularly stuffing themselves into a cubicle. And my neighbourhood is no exception but due to the inflation of housing prices in this city there are fewer and fewer young families about. The last baby born on my street was whisked away to a bigger house this past summer. It seems that the post war bungalows on this street no longer suit the families of today. It is troubling that these same bungalows were entirely suitable for the large contingent of italian and portugese immigrant families in the 1950s thru 1970s. Many of the dwindling stock of bungalows (developers are slowly gentrifying my 'hood), have aging matriarchs and patriarchs still canning tomatoes and making wine every fall. Most of the remaining non-gentrified bungalows have single or coupled folk living with no children. Infants are few and far to be seen in this area.

So when I first saw the woman walking down the middle of my road pushing a covered stroller I recognized immediately the confluence of spring in her step and weariness on her brow. Such a dichotomy can only make an appearance during a unique phase in one's life. The Brand Spanking New Parent phase. This phase is so brief and so infectious that I swear just a small vicarious dose of it during one's reproductive years instills the desire, nay carnal urge, to reproduce and live through this phase first hand. And having lived it myself I have to confess that seeing it again, albeit quite vicariously as a voyeur neighbour, gives me a sense of communion with this world that I don't know if I could also feel if I had not.

Before the biological clock turned off for me, a mere few years ago, I might have viewed this quite differently. My womb would feel barren and I would intellectualize the impracticality of more children. Now my heart sings with delight. The difference is marvelous and like all new experiences I am nearly raw with emotion after seeing Brand Spanking New Dad walking down my street today.

It seems that this Brand New Child is rather difficult. I suspected this right from my first sighting of Brand New Mom going down my street on an early fall evening. I noticed immediately that she was gingerly directing the stroller away from any noise making opportunities (crunchy leaves). I was walking my dog and she gave me a winning smile (Brand New Mom hormones emanating!). I wouldn't have dreamed to talk to her after seeing the way she was avoiding the leaves. I had a Brand New Child like that. A child that didn't sleep and then once asleep was easily woken. So the Brand New Mom and I have merely exchanged smiles when I see her out on the street. I see Brand New Dad less frequently and he also emanates a winning smile. I think I've them together only once. I try to force as much empathy into my smile as possible because I remember the desperation that comes with all the other wonderful new experiences as a Brand New Parent. The desperation for sleep. A solid night. Oh jaysus what I wouldn't have done for a solid 6 hour night in that first year.

And this morning, from my front window, I see Brand New Dad go down the mostly leafless side (on the road, not the sidewalk) of my recently paved and beautifully smooth street. There is a very slight downward grade on my street. Both Brand New Parents walk the length of this downward grade and turn around rather than pushing the baby carriage up the steeper incline that follows. So I watch and wait for him to turn around (I'm near the end of this sloping grade). I have not seen Brand New Dad as often as Brand New Mom so I was watching openly from my front window. He was distracted by trying to sneak a peak at Brand New Child while still pushing at the same fairly brisk pace that some Brand New Children demand. My own Brand New Child liked to be rocked at a definite upbeat tempo and this rocking had to be done with an upright adult, in their arms, in a particular position. This became more and more difficult for me as the desperation for a decent nights sleep kicked into high gear about 2 months into Brand New Parenting.

The penny dropped as I was musing about my own experiences while watching Brand New Dad this morning from my front window. Brand New Mom has probably hit that desperation for sleep point so on a Tuesday morning Brand New Dad possibly took a morning off work in order to get Brand New Baby to sleep after a very difficult night. Lately I have been having difficulty sleeping and the gratitude that I no longer face Brand New Child sleep deprived insanity overwhelmed me.

And oh yes, the above picture is Brand New Dad at the end of my street. The Brand New Parents don't live on my street but since my street is the widest and smoothest one in the area I suspect it's worth travelling to. I wonder what other adventures Brand New Child will introduce to Brand New Parents during his/her lifetime. I hope they are joyous and more restful than this first one!

An only

2011-11-14T08:43:00.001-05:00

In my lifetime I have seen the disappearance of the large family in the socio-economic landscape of North America. We all know of them. The families with 4 - 10+ children. An old neighbour of mine, 10 years my senior, is the eldest of 14 children. Both my parents came from small Irish 1940s-50s families...four children in dad's, six in mum's. The largest families I know today have four children and they are anomalies. Most families only have one or two children...sometimes three (gender 'triplets', as often as not).

In most modern North American families the parents decide when or if there will be other children. The miracle of birth control has allowed this decision making to be easily enforced and the availability of safe access to abortion makes any errors in judgment or failures of birth control remedied effectively (if desired).

However in some families there are choices made, either by nature or nurture, that disrupt this parental decision making pattern. I was raised in such a family and it is only quite recently that I have accepted this. I had one sibling, a sister, for nearly forty years and then, she disowned us.

Seeing the starkness of that last paragraph brings a lump to my throat. You know that saying, "You can choose your friends but not your family." Well, my sister wised up to this about five years ago and got the hell out of her own personal Dodge which included the entirety of her blood relations - and all connections to Canada. So although she did not choose her family, she claimed personal freedom by firing the lot of us and moving overseas.

I played some part in this and tried to own the whole thing, for many years. I only recently realized that as usual, I was overcompensating. Trying to take blame on where blame was not due. In fact, there is no blame to be had anywhere in all of this. It is comforting to finally realize this. In my small 1970s immigrant irish catholic family we were victims. Each and every one of us. Victims mostly to a society that has changed with an alarming and ferocious speed since the dawn of the industrial era.

I admit to being overwhelmed by sadness at times about this loss. I also admit to being angry that I am left to deal with aging parents on my own. I find I have a grudging admiration for the tenacity it takes to follow through on this. A tenacity that I feel, for myself, is best directed at other things. Like staying off the smokes and exercising daily.

Throughout the course of my life I have often been overwhelmed by feelings of being trapped. As a single parent this was manifested quite magnificently. Wisdom is now allowing me to see that the only thing that ever traps me completely is my own attitude and by blanketing myself with the feeling of being trapped I am unable to see anything to move forward towards. Being trapped is a very safe way of being. A comfort zone, if you will.

In order for me to loosen and start to remove the blanket that traps me I know I don't need to fire my family. But I do need to acknowledge that I really am now an only child. And there is no-one and nothing to blame for it. It just is.

Click pic to find source: an excellent blog post about the
advantages of being and raising an only child.

Whose reachin' out to capture a moment? Everyone knows it's Windy.

2011-11-10T11:32:00.001-05:00

Sometimes a great big wind has to tear through the skies in order to clear away all the debris leftover from summer's death. That happened last night. There are only a handful of leaves remaining on both mature trees on my property. The younger trees in my back yard are still holding on tight.

As a metaphor I have to say I find this most appropriate.

In my youth every grudge was nursed and stroked regularly and with diligence. An early boyfriend liked to remind me (lovingly) of the chip on my shoulder and for many years after that relationship ended I pondered that. In fact, during that time, I did not know the chip was so large I had to start to develop a chip on the other shoulder throughout my twenties in order to accommodate the growing pile of grievances that seemed to accumulate monthly.

At the dawn of my middle age I feel fortunate that the love of my friends and family (and therapy!) have acted like layers of spackling. So while I do still have the chip it is considerably smaller and back to only one shoulder.

I realize today that I'm like the mature trees on my property. The great wind of youth has passed through my life and I'm hanging on to a few of the leaves of despair. I realize that these 'leaves' are there. However, I also realize that they represent the last fragments of a younger self that was determined to logically resolve every emotional ache and wrongdoing ever inflicted upon me.

As someone with an extremely analytical mind this has been one of the greatest lessons learned in my life to date. It is okay to be a thinker and to try and think your way through problems. But knowing which problems to devote that energy to? That's true wisdom.

And on that note I leave you with a practical problem that my analytical mind (with the help of google) could not seem to solve. Perhaps you could help a blogger out by answering the question posed in my picture?

This tree is in my backyard.
I have no idea what it is but the fall leaves are stunning.

Two things to watch for in tonight's skies (worldwide)

2011-11-08T10:29:00.001-05:00

Given that I have an endless fascination with space (pun intended) I long ago discovered and subscribe to a list that generates news on a regular basis about the interesting events in our skies. Fittingly, the site is called SpaceWeather and I encourage you to subscribe since you get notices about planetary watches, solar flares, sun spots, eclipses and the like. You don't have to have a telescope to enjoy many of it's offerings.

Yesterday's email from them had the following information that I thought worthy enough to blog about. Apparently, today (November 8, 2011) at 23:28 UT (or 6:28 p.m. EST) an asteroid the size of an aircraft carrier is moseying on by our planet. By 'moseying' I mean it will be closer to our planet than our moon. So maybe I should say 'cozy'-ing. Seriously. That's close. An object estimated to be 400m wide is coming within 85% of the distance of our moon to the earth (or .85 LD = lunar distance i.e. the distance from the earth to the moon). This type of asteroid is called a PHA (Potentially Hazardous Asteorid) and is exceptional due to the proximity it has to the earth. The email notifying me of this event assured me that "There is no danger to our planet.". Um, wev. Even if they are wrong, this NASA site assures me:

"Many objects with sizes ranging up to about a kilometer will hit the Earth in the next one thousand to ten million years. These impacts could produce damaging blast waves, earthquakes, fires, and tidal waves, but the area affected will be less than the size of the U.S. Except for a direct hit on a major population center, the greatest damage may be done by tidal waves sweeping entire ocean coastlines ... These objects could kill millions of people, but the damage is not greater than that from other natural events such as earthquakes."

A few years back I subscribed to a now BBC owned British magazine called "Focus". It was/is full of really geeky science and technology news all laid out in full glossy print with lots of pictures...many of them technical. At one point during my subscription, the magazine had an article about asteroids (and today's asteroid is actually on the main splash page of their website today). The take away point, for me, from that first asteroid article was the fact that our worldwide governments haven't funded well placed asteroid observation stations so, as a planet, we could be sideswiped by an asteroid at any time. Now, please correct me if I'm wrong, but in the years subsequent to my reading of this article I haven't seen a lot of announcements regarding funding of asteroid 'watch' stations. So, I think the fact remains that unexpected collisions with undiscovered large asteroids still remain a risk (albeit a small one). Especially when you note the *daily* update of this list of PHAs (they are discovered all the time!).

I suspect that if an asteroid, expected or not, wipes out a portion of our planet in my lifetime, we won't be wondering whether or not it was tracked. Because even if it is was, there is nearly nothing that can be done about it given the nebulous state of our asteroid defense technology.

So tonight, instead of worrying about the PHA, I will instead go outside (I hope the clouds clear over Toronto tonight) and look for the second notable event happening:

When the sun goes down tonight, step outside and look east. Jupiter and the waxing full Moon are lined up less than 10^o apart. It's a beautiful conjunction that will last all night long--don't miss it!

For me, taking a good long hard look at nature is the best grounding force I know. Try it yourself and see if you, like me, can find the cosmic connection that is all around us and there for the taking at any second.

This radar image of asteroid 2005 YU55 was obtained on Nov. 7, 2011, at 11:45 a.m. PST (2:45 p.m. EST/1945 UTC), when the space rock was at 3.6 lunar distances.

Time is an invention

2011-11-06T17:00:00.000-05:00

The concept of daylight savings time has always hurt my head. The fact that only some locales observe it, even within countries, makes it especially ache. As a child I noted the difference since sometimes Mom and Dad came home from work in the daylight. I also noted that at times, I would have to go to bed in the daylight (no fair!). We are told that the spring forward time change leads to an increase in accidents due to people being tired. We are also told that the extra hour in the fall soon wears off and people go back to their sleep deprived ways, pronto. These factoids, and the knowledge that most of the world no longer observes daylight savings time, do little to alleviate my head hurting.

I took off my wristwatch in 1996. I was 29 years old and there were no pocket sized consumer cell phones back then that would allow you to tell the time immediately. The circumstances under which I made this decision was a total frustration at the lack of time keeping by my Irish family whom I was staying with whilst on a summer vacation. Time seemed to have no meaning in Ireland back then. I have not been back to Ireland in awhile so I do not know if the digital age has changed this cultural norm.

Later that same year, when I was back for a second trip to help bury my grandfather, I recall this same uncle pointing to a train pulling into the Cork city train station and saying "That'd be the 10 a.m. train pulling in from Dublin." My other uncle, long before deviated from his Irish roots by emmigrating to another country, looked at his wrist watch and pointed at it to my mum and I. It was past 11 a.m.. I knew right then and there that I had made a good decision. The man was seriously stressed by the lack of respect given to his wrist watch by the Cork train company. To me, it was a moment that vindicated my decision.

Humans need structure. But we must balance that with spontaneity in order for our creative bursts to see daylight. I wonder if by taking off that wrist watch, long ago, I was publicly declaring my allegiance to the creative spontaneity I am continuously drawn to.

Today, having 25 hours with which to ponder these thoughts, I wonder how I may nurture that creative spark a little more without disturbing the minimal structure I have imposed on my life. The shortening daylight hours make me want to throw structure to the wind and hibernate till spring equinox. But perhaps this year I might find the balance that has eluded me for years.

Mice and Men.

2011-11-03T15:34:00.000-04:00

E. and I were walking beside the St. Jacob's Railway tracks after attending our duties as long term Teaching Assistants for an Organizational Behaviour course. We were both PhD students in the Faculty of Engineering, Department of Management Sciences at the University of Waterloo. I was walking towards my car to go home and he was walking towards the married students residences that were a very short distance from the campus. The very same residences that I had lived in as a newlywed, earlier in my career as a graduate student.

My husband and I had moved out of these married student quarters just before finishing my master's degree. I had applied for funding to do a doctorate and we were uncertain as to whether we would be able to stay in the residence and besides which we were ready for a non-student dwelling after many years of living the student life.

As it turns out, I did get funding for that doctoral research. I also started teaching sessionally at Wilfred Laurier University. So, a mere year after moving into our first 'real' apartment, my husband and I were able to purchase our first home in Waterloo knowing that we would be having a baby and I would be finishing up graduate work and this would take a few years.

But as the saying goes, the best laid plans....

By the time E. and I were walking alongside those tracks I had had my baby and my husband had left. I was basically an emotional and intellectual trainwreck yet I clung desperately to the original plan. This particular afternoon walk took place within a year of my husband leaving and I was suffering also from great shame.

E. and I had worked together for a number of school terms by this point. He was a mature married student from Thailand and our department had many social gatherings embracing the myriad of international students so we were on good casual terms with each other. In fact, we may have both served on our student council team. We were both outgoing and involved.

I think this walk was the first time I was alone with him subsequent to my baby and then marriage fiasco. I have noted the casual and friendly nature of our relationship yet he felt it necessary to ask me this: "Do you think that the fact that you chose to have a baby during your doctoral research might have been the reason your husband left you?"

You know what? 16 years later and I'm still gobsmacked by the question and the emotional rollercoaster it sets off in me. Researchers look for tidy answers to explain the lack of female representation in STEM. This story is one of my contributions (yes, there are more) to the not so tidy answers I suspect litter the STEM landscape for women.

Cheer your way out of an illness.

2011-10-29T11:58:00.000-04:00

Telling me to cheer up or imply that I am not welcome unless portraying a cheery disposition implies that I have control over my physical and/or mental circumstances. Waking up and being unable to fully function physically on a regular basis is no fun. And, fyi, there seems to be no cause/cure other than the lesions on my spinal cord. I repeat, there is no known cure or cause. So no, I did not bring this on myself. And lately I have completely reverted to the only pragmatic solution my budget allows - following a very restricted diet.

I agree that being in a good headspace is important when you have a serious illness. But sometimes attitude does not overcome physical realities. This past month has been disturbingly difficult for me. The prolonged lack of employment is like a game of dominoes on my central nervous system.

I don't know if one can ever accept shitty things about one's life and circumstance. I think the great literary works of art (and the visual/musical ones) serve as testament to the profound unease (and/or *dis* ease) that many of us struggle with. One just learns to ignore and batten down the hatches, more often than not. I think I've been pretty good at the ignore part and I'm a mere novice apprentice for battening down the hatches.

So advising me to cheer up does not validate my reality. I have an illness that can not be meditated away. As far as I know.

My year of living civically

2011-10-26T07:50:00.000-04:00

I wonder if Canadian data would be similar?

When your source of employment evaporates, almost overnight, what would you do?

In August 2010 that choice was put before me.

So I strapped on my boots, printed up a few business cards, and headed out.

Part of my motivation was the ole' networking thing. Maybe something or someone would turn up that could offer me employment or at least some contract work. But, to be truthful, a much larger part of myself was excited at the prospect of just getting out there. Being involved. Being aware. Being engaged with the citizens of my community in a way that I was deprived of for most of the past 12 years living in the city.

I moved to Toronto from a community where I was actively involved during most of my adult (post undergraduate) life there. I was on the board of the community band. I volunteered at my child's preschool. I was on the board of the food cooperative. I started exploring alternative community based groups such as a local bartering system. I got involved in a fledgling political party.

When I moved to Toronto my life went into a kind of warp drive of frenzied employment search and then the life of teaching seemed to suck the soul right out of me. Couple that with a diminishing physical ability due to a degenerative illness (undiagnosed for years) and a lack of child care options led to a huge gaping void in my life that I was unaware of until last year when the option to renew this core part of my life was put before me.

My first civic minded involvement came early. I recall launching a class endeavour in grade 3/4 (I did both grades in one year). We staged the Wizard of Oz for a performance to the the younger grades with minimal help from our teacher. Years later, in middle school, our catholic school religion department became infested with hippies and my life as a protestor started in earnest. I recall signing my first petition and proudly wearing my first protest button in the late 70s (the boycott Nestle movement). I attended an anti-nuclear protest shortly afterwards. Besides being roped into a pro-life march or two, the civic engagement training provided by my religion (hippie) teachers throughout middle school and high school was most informative and taught me the importance of being civically aware AND involved.

So, after almost 12 years being trapped in my own home due to unavoidable circumstances, my sudden and unplanned state of unemployment was like a gift. My life literally opened up. My child, now old enough to feed herself occasionally and also quite active with her own teenage social life, no longer needed me around and my time was like a blank slate.

So I got out there. I had already been dabbling a bit with the Toronto Food Movement and had spent a year on the board of one of the food co-ops. I had petitioned my councillor about urban chickens. I had attended a few local food policy events. So that was my starting point. The fall of 2010 also had a municipal election so I became aware of my local issues and joined the only local resident's association (which isn't very local). I jumped into the spring 2011 federal election by volunteering to be a campaign manager. I was a founding organizer of a local arts festival. I volunteered for three different food organizations.

I figure that in one brief year I managed to cram in about 5 years of community involvement. Not one job offer but a wealth of experience was gained.

I've learned that politicians can be slimey. Even the ones that purport to be your friends (my local councillor has recently blocked me on facebook and so did his provincially elected father, I have supported both of these men so the blocking is rather puzzling and irritating since I no longer have access to community information).

I've learned that young people make up the backbone of the food movement which startles me (a bit) since they are not the ones actually feeding the next generation, yet. My own food awareness was basically launched the day I gave birth so perhaps that clouds my judgment. I do believe there should be more representation from people actually feeding families and perhaps events should be orchestrated to facilitate this.

I've learned that most people are on a payroll of some sort when they are civically engaged which means that there is always an ulterior motive and/or agenda.

I've learned that volunteers might be recognized but they will never be given more than a terse thank-you. I've also learned that most volunteer jobs should be paid employment - and that especially is applicable to the alarming rate of growth of the Canadian internship industry. And many perpetual volunteers are unpaid women in my general age range. Male volunteers/organizers [unpaid] are few and far between. They tend to get paid for their civically engaged gigs - maybe not directly but in the form of future speaking gigs or book sales which are promoted at the volunteer gig. I've also learned that stating this fact does not make one very popular.

After my month pseudo-unplugged I decided to reign in my civic involvement. I've beefed up my resume a bit with these experiences and I have no regrets. I've met some very interesting people and look forward to watching some of their personal endeavours blossom. And I suspect that this past year will act as a bit of a reboot for the rest of my life since I don't think I will ever let my civically minded inner champion disappear like that again....at least not without one helluva fight.

Food Porn

2011-10-21T10:17:00.000-04:00

Lunch time in a suburban Catholic school in the 1970s went something like this. The bell rang for lunch time dismissal. If you were in Grade 2 or younger you waited for an older sibling or a designated substitute or a parent (mother) to pick you up to take you home. Or you waited for an older sibling or designated sub to take you to the gymnasium to eat your bagged lunch with your fellow 'bus kids' - of which there were only a couple of dozen in a school of a few hundred. If you were in Grade 3 or older you were allowed to take yourself home or go to the gym yourself.

I attended a school such as this and I was a bus kid. I was one of the very few children that had a mother that had paid employment (and possibly the only one whose mother made more $ than the father). I was also the only child I knew that had a family that had public marital troubles in it's history (although god forbid I ever talked about that).

In grade 5 and 6 it started to become 'cool' for kids to stay for lunch rather than go home so I recall that we started staying in our classrooms for lunch. This allowed me, an irish immigrant child, to gain further insight into the food choices of the mostly italian, portuguese and filipino families. I would come home to my parents begging for things like nutella (on fresh italian bakery bread, OH MY). And wagon wheels. And pop tarts. Their deli-meat based lunches smelled a lot different than my peanut butter and carrot (yes) sandwiches on brown whole wheat (cheap) bread. My lunch treat was an apple and very occasionally a couple of (cheap) cookies. I started baking at a very early age just so I could improve the contents of my bagged lunch.

Even today, the smell of the deli counter brings my mind directly back to those childhood lunchrooms. And one of the proudest accomplishments of my parenting career is the fact that my daughter came home regularly during much of her elementary school years so she was able to experience a period of time that included a hot midday meal. But she, like during my time, started wanting to stay with her friends in grade 6 and by grade 7 she was taking the subway downtown to an alternative middle school which ended her childhood hot lunch era.

One of my own guilty pleasures has been the provision of nutella for my daughter. This was one item that never came into the household I grew up in and was regularly provided for my elementary school peers. I wish I could also say that she also brought fresh homemade cookies throughout her childhood. Let's just say that she too started baking in a quest to improve the contents of her bagged lunch. After all, the apple doesn't stray too far from the tree :)

#OccupyEarth Pledge

2011-10-16T01:47:00.000-04:00

I promise to actively pursue the creation of a local community council (representing 200-2000 people in my same geographical proximity...one building or one block or one suburban/rural area). I also promise to serve as an actively engaged member for at least 3 years of my life (in flexible allotments/commitment times). An upper maximum allowed to serve on council might be for 10 or 15 years but only in 3 year consecutive allotments Democratic process should provide for the mechanisms to create and pay for this type of civic structure. All of the numbers are arguable....the point is to engage the citizenry and make it easy to be heard.
I promise to ensure that Zero Carbon Footprints should be embedded in policy. At each and every level of government. And, in your household - use carbon offsetting donations if you cannot go offgrid.
I promise to share what I can and when I can: money; food; time; resources.
I promise to be emotionally available and actively listen. I will actively pursue real (face to face) connections frequently. The goal is daily (and very flexible).
I will honour my body and it's need for healthy fresh food, rest, and exercise. The goal is daily and also very flexible.

Unofficial advice for Occupy Protestors (Canadian especially).

2011-10-14T17:17:00.000-04:00

I was at the second organizational meeting for #OccupyBayStreet #OccupyToronto held last night at OISE. I also went to the legal workshop and the media workshop. Here are some thoughts if you are planning on heading down to your local assembly tomorrow for 10 a.m.:

Bring whole milk, dawn detergent, containers: http://www.pepper-spray-store.com/relatedinfo/antitdote.shtml. #Remember #Toronto #G20. Alternatively, bring maalox(liquid) and baby shampoo. Bring apple cider vinegar and a scarf to breathe through in case of tear gas.
Bring very little cash, $50 max in smaller denominations. One piece of picture ID. If stopped by police ask if you are being detained. If you are being detained ask why. You do not need to answer questions. Do not show i.d. unless you are arrested and ask for a lawyer before saying anything. #G20 #Lessons If you or your bags get searched announce loudly that you do not agree to the search but do not resist. Do not carry anything that may give cause for arrest (knives, drugs, etc). Read through this Canadian legal guide for activists for more information and advice. The legal # for #OccupyToronto is 416-833-6137. Consider writing it on yourself, somewhere discreet.
Protein bars/meal supplies for personal use and/or gifting. Consider also gifting the Food Committee with a bag or two of fresh fruit or vegetables. Preferably local. A reusable water container and a bowl and spoon will also be required if you want to obtain replenishments there. Larger food or cash-in-kind donations (please see this wish list) can organize with @OccTorFoodies.
Wear comfortable and warm clothes and shoes. Dress in layers. As waterproof as your budget allows.
In-Case-of-Emergency (ICE) contact information : ICE numbers on your cell. Who to call in case of the worst case scenario. Your cell may be searched. Remember that.
Portable musical instruments and the ability to play! Voices count as instruments! Bring song & chord sheets! The Common Thread Chorus will be out so look for them. Bring your crafts too....and think about giving a workshop while down there for anything you feel qualified enough to.
Signs - be creative, find your voice. Weatherproof it.
Media: at this time no-one is speaking on behalf of the movement so if you get asked to go on camera or give a quote by a member of the media make sure you emphasize you are speaking for yourself. And just because they ask doesn't mean you have to. In fact, the more people that do not speak will create more of a media frenzy and might help to increase our support. Think carefully before agreeing to anything and contact the media committee if you are unsure or unclear. The last thing the movement needs is some angry wing-nut on the cover of the Sun....but if that happens I'm sure it will not kill the movement.
Try not to be photographed or videotaped alone by any media. Group shots encourage participation. Solo shots do not.
This is a powerful movement but that should not preclude the fun factor. Being friendly, inclusive and accommodating always works better. Yes, we are angry but we are not assholes. This is a peaceful assembly. We all have our reasons to be there. We all share one thing in common ---> HOPE. Don't forget this. And don't be a litter bug either - and this includes cigarette butts :)

Conflicted

2011-10-14T01:03:00.003-04:00

After tonight's organizational GA/workshops for the OccupyBayStreet/OccupyToronto event on Saturday I see the Toronto Elites taking it over. Under 35. Mostly white. Mostly male. Many of them paying attention more to their devices(smartphones/cameras) instead of the gathering of real live engaged and motivated human beings. Many of them with agendas that vary from political kowtowing to union participation. And a lot of smokers (wtf?!).

If you were there, you know of what I speak.

Sigh.

Revolutions are difficult. I'm glad this one is not armed.

Snap, you've been pwned.

2011-10-12T16:04:00.000-04:00

There was recently some controversial press surrounding the choice of a Toronto couple to not reveal the gender of their baby (their third child) to anyone outside of their immediate family. The flurry of public judgment surrounding their family's personal decision reveals much about the state of our society.

Each breeder makes many choices in the course of their parenting journey. Some choose to release their children into other families. Some choose to continue breeding well beyond societal and global norms - China's one child policy has been in place for almost 32 years and, according to their authorities, the policy has prevented almost 1 billion births. Some breeding choices are more public than others. The Toronto couple's controversy stemmed from the fact that many people felt that gender is something the public is entitled to know. Gender is something our culture feels it owns and we are lambasted daily with media images defining gender norms. So it is no wonder the controversy brewed worldwide about 'hiding' the gender of this infant. Our culture has given permission for that to be owned by others and kudos to these parents for highlighting this fact.

I remember touring a day care facility while pregnant and the tour guide proudly declaring their ability to look after babies as young as three weeks (this was in the days of six month parental leaves). I recall being suitably impressed. Nearly immediately after giving birth I started to question this. My line of questioning revolved around the inane choice to breed and then hand off the responsibility of raising your infant/child to someone else...or most likely a series of other people that are paid very low wages. The average baby in full time care spends 40 - 50 hours of their prime awake times with someone else. This seemed logical before I gave birth but was extremely illogical, to me, postpartum. It was like a light switch went off the day I gave birth and it has never turned off. The era in which I was raised made me believe that the natural course of events in one's life included the farming out of one's children to other people's care. "Two earner families are a requirement in this day and age" is a line I've heard time and time again.

I feel strongly that the speed at which our culture changed in the 20th century did not allow time for our values and priorities to be thoughtfully re-adjusted. For example, in the middle of last century my parents were both raised in homes where a mid-day hot meal was prepared and served by a homemaker. Children came home from school for it. I believe this contributes to their mostly good health (ps Dad's okay). I look around at my peer group and I see many illnesses that were unheard of when my parents were in their forties. Heart disease and diabetes being the headliners. Cancer too.

The urgency of our world to reclaim feminine power in the 20th century usurped the basic human needs of healthy food (and nurture). Communities have been decimated and reduced to enclosures that families shuffle into at night. Neighbours are not regarded as allies but merely as temporary acquaintances until the next property flip or job change. Fear permeates most opportunities for interpersonal engagement to the point that it is discouraged as soon as a child is allowed to walk alone on the streets (which is now at a much older age, if ever). Families don't even eat together anymore!

But getting back to the gender free baby. Our society is quick to pass judgment on this issue. I myself was criticized many times for raising my child in a television free home ("but what about her friends at school? doesn't she feel left out?"). I was criticized for her father's and I choice to give her my last name ("you won't be a real family"). Etc., etc.

But that is not really the crux of it. At the end of the day we all have to be able to look in our children's eyes and hear their opinion on the matter. And last night daughter read me homework for her grade 12 english course. It was a narrative essay that, in part, applauded me for my choice to raise her in a television free home. As a parent I can think of no better way to capture how I feel while hearing her read it aloud: Snap, you've NOT been pwned. She'd shudder to hear me misuse modern vernacular this way but so be it :)

Apples and Snakes

2011-10-11T14:41:00.000-04:00

I am not religious. Not anymore. I had a good long three decade run at it with most of it being a willing and consenting participant (i.e. as an infant/small child I had no choice). My certificate of annulment from my brief mid-twenties marriage attests to the purity of faith I once had as well as to the success of the brainwashing efforts. As does the certificate of baptism that my daughter has. As a teenager I used to go to Saturday evening masses with my best friend when neither of my parents had darkened the church doorstep for months. My relationship with the church fizzled out before my daughter's recollected memory starts so she has bypassed the brainwashing track and for that I am truly grateful....as is she.

However, I do miss the comfort of the ritual. I was part of many church choirs and I miss the music. I went to a catholic funeral a year ago and belting out the hymns was marvelous. I didn't participate fully in this mass due to knowing that the partaking of the sacraments is a personal witnessing for christ ritual that holds no meaning to me anymore. But I was fascinated to see friends participate even though I knew they hadn't partaken of any sacrament in years and according to the 'rules' as I know them the body of christ portion of the ceremony should have been off limits to them. All of these friends were in their second or third marriages without annulments and I'm pretty sure their new relationships weren't chaste. So they are 'living in sin' and not regularly obtaining the sacrament of reconciliation to clear that blemish in order to partake of communion. In fact, I'm not sure when the last time any of them had been to church (probably a first communion or confirmation service). Their participation made it clear to me that in today's secular world most people regard church ceremony as more pomp and less - or no - circumstance.

Setting aside the pomp versus circumstances debate, I don't regret for a single minute the time I spent with mother church. It gave me early insights into the history of humanity that I don't think I would have obtained since I was pigeon holed at an early age into the mathematics/science fields. My knowledge of humanities subject matter remains an autodidactic journey which is enormously pleasurable albeit a bit frustrating when the next gap is forged open, yet again.

That knowledge of humanities' history becomes handy when seeing clear affronts to morality. Like this kind of shyte. Knowing that the core of humanity can be boiled down to the Adam and Eve Garden of Eden parable delivered concisely in the first book of the bible helps to frame these affronts. Let's recap that shall we? Snakes are tricky. Apples are tasty. Some humans can't resist. Consequences can be profound and innocent bystanders are affected also. But at least we can blame someone (the starting line of most christ centred religions).

When I look at that repulsive soft drink ad campaign, or in fact at much of our modern culture, I see lots and lots of snakes. And just because I can blame someone (or something) doesn't mean that anything will change. And even if I ignore them, the consequences will affect me and my daughter and her generation and the generations to come. So basically nothing can be done except to try and ignore the tasty apples cleverly profferred by the snakes and concentrate on the bounty elsewhere. Because, despite being extremely tricky, those snakes haven't figured out how to obliterate the bounty overflowing in each and every human being's mind.

P.S. Try to imagine what our world would now look like if the starting line of the Adam and Eve religions had been placed at recognition of the abundance of our planet and our need to sustain this for all time despite the appearance of tricky snakes with their tasty apples.

Occupy Toronto: Top 10 Reason List.

2011-10-08T15:19:00.000-04:00

fubar by 1944, acronym from fucked up beyond all recognition. Said to be military slang originally. (via)

occupy mid-14c., "to take possession of," also "to take up space or time, employ (someone)," from O.Fr. occuper, from L. occupare "take over, seize, possess, occupy," from ob "over" + intensive form of capere "to grasp, seize" (see capable). During 16c.-17c. a euphemism for "have sexual intercourse with," which caused it to fall from polite usage. (via)

I am going down to Bay Street next Saturday. If that's where the gathering actually happens (no decisions as to location yet, I will watch for information on occupyto.org. and @OccupyToronto).

Reason 1: I am part of the 99%. I'm pretty positive that so are you.
Reason 2: This is not about left versus right. I have many issues with the 'left'. And many with the 'right'.
Reason 3: I am 44 and unemployed. Most lower paying jobs require long periods of standing or the ability to lift 50 lbs. This is no longer feasible due to me having multiple sclerosis. Despite my condition being quite mild these are limitations that I must honour in order to maintain maximum physical comfort and sanity.
Reason 4: Despite a master's degree in engineering I have been unable to find a job. I have met many middle aged people in similar circumstances.
Reason 5: I have met thousands of regular Canadians this past year in the course of my working in temporary jobs (for the federal election, Census 2011 and the Ontario Election). We live in an amazing area on our planet...so many cultures living next door to each other in peace. I don't want corporate greed to destroy this special place we call Toronto. We are a magical spot in the world.
Reason 6: I have a 17 year old. This is for her generation.
Reason 7: The 20th century was about being 'soma-fied' into a way of life that is no longer feasible.
Reason 8: The 21st century is about awakening .... or extinction due to overpopulation or climate change, likely both.
Reason 9: The real survivor builds tribes. The people down there next Saturday will be my people.
Reason 10: It looks like a lot of damn fun.

If you are going next Saturday or wish you could go, feel free to leave a comment, anonymously even. If you think this is a load of bull crap please comment (nicely) too. #HarmoniousDifferences.

"She's a sweetheart."

2011-10-07T15:40:00.001-04:00

I just finished teaching a third year university course where nearly the entire class cheated at least once. Most offences were for simply copying (or in some extraordinarily stupid instances actually photocopying) individual assignments. Two people had word for word exact same answers on their midterms (I was not supervising the room they were located in, an administrator for the university was). Two other people that were in the room I was intensely supervising managed to copy similar answers by the use of ball caps. I admit to being caught out (?!) by that but I was walking up and down the classroom every 5 - 10 minutes and watching from front to back so I was shocked to see the same (wrong) answer on one of their questions. During the midterm, in my class, I actually reprimanded another table of students for trying to share answers by moving papers closer. The final insult came after the final examination when I was informed by a student that a fellow student who was to write a deferred exam due to missing it for personal reasons had obtained a copy of the final in advance.

I have nearly 20 years of teaching experience with most of it at the post secondary level. I have never witnessed this type of full scale complete disregard for academic integrity. Because, you see, when I approached the administration about this, with clear cut proof, I was questioned and given no support. I had a conversation with the director of the program that made it extremely clear that they wanted nothing to do with my charges and told me that yes, I could file reports, but, um, was I really sure? This kind of response despite a couple of the students commending me for calling the class out....the cheating issue during all tests had become de rigueur in all their courses through the prior year (this is an intense two year program to obtain a BComm) and they were annoyed that their marks were fairly and honestly earned while a large swatch of the class regularly copied from each other for everything. These commendations came from students that I had penalized for photocopying assignments.

This, my friends, is the nail on the coffin for me. The coffin of my 'career' in post secondary education. The problem is rampant throughout every level of our education system and if you haven't heard about this it is because, like me, everyone who tries to make an issue of it is not given any support. This happened time and time again at the previous institution I was teaching at. I was at that institution long enough to implement testing methods that nearly made it impossible for cheating to occur (4 different versions of assessments, adequate spacing allocation to prevent wandering eyes, vigilant walking throughout the testing facilities). This most recent course was the first I had taught at a satellite campus of a distant institution and the classroom facilities were woefully inadequate. Not to mention the incompetence of the administrator that allowed final examinations to be released and word-for-word copying on examinations.

I had a bad feeling at the web-cam based 'training' provided by this institution. The person who, in the very near future, was to ask me if I was sure that the word-for-word answers were actually cheating, said to his colleagues around the table that the person who taught the equivalent course at the main campus "She's a sweetheart, isn't she?" before telling me that I could connect with her for any questions etc.

Both this woman and I have master's degrees in engineering and were teaching a challenging third year mathematical modelling course. But it turns out that being a sweetheart is the 'skill' that is most important to continue the paycheque flow. And when it comes to academic integrity, and many other issues of import, I am not a sweetheart.

"Well behaved women seldom make history." Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

To that I would add the corollary: In the 21st century, well behaved women tend to earn regular paycheques.

Social Media and Reputation Economics

2011-10-05T14:56:00.000-04:00

Social media. It's an oxymoron. The only thing that distinguishes today's media from the past, and therefore deeming it 'social', is that we can respond immediately. Letters posted in the 19th century (and earlier) were also social media. As were the cave drawings in Europe from 32,000 years ago.

I believe that today's social media has allowed us to bypass the knowledge economy and move directly into a more transparent reputation economy. It is not what you know, it is who you know. The promise of an economy growing according to [knowledge generated] patents does not get very far without the money to build, test, market and improve said patented item. And where does the money come from? According to the Occupy Wall Street movement, the money belongs to only 1% of the population. So if you've got a great idea you are going to have to gain access to some of that wealth in order to generate wealth with that idea. And that, my friends, is where reputation is key.

I spent many years pursuing a doctoral degree. The brick wall I came up against while researching my topic (Investment Decision Making in New Technologies) was the fact that time and time again the venture capitalists and the angel investors were not modelling anything when making these decisions. It was the handshake and the reputation that sealed the deals. To be sure, a thorough examination of the knowledge aspects were part of the due diligence process. But the final decision came down to the handshake and the reputation of the development team. This reality, as well as the chaos of my personal life, forced the ending of this academic route since handshakes are not only difficult to measure but a dissertation on the 'soft' aspects of investment decision making was not likely to be easily defended in an engineering faculty.

I learned a lot about communication networks in this field of study. I've even published on the matter. The idea of lead users is quite compelling and feeds nicely into the foundation of a reputation economy. With social media you no longer have to rely on face to face connections or peruse trade magazines and conferences. If you have an idea, you can actively search online for people looking for solutions that fit your idea. Or conversely, if you have a problem you can look for ideas that solve it.

And how does the 'wheat get separated from the chaff'? Reputation. And this is greatly eased by the immediacy of social media. Letters of introduction are no longer needed (my father brought a few with him when he emigrated to Canada from Ireland in 1967). Answers to questions like: How many twitter followers does the person have?; LinkedIn connections?; Blog traffic?; Youtube videos?; Conference presentations?; TED talks?; will allow a potential investor to ascertain quickly whether there is enough 'klout' to warrant further investigation or a seed investment.

The sad thing about bypassing the knowledge economy is that there might be some truly great ideas out there that will go nowhere in the reputation economy. The world transformed itself in the space of a mere decade, leaving knowledge junkies like myself hankering a bit for a bygone era and resigned to blogging for a better world. A 3.0 world where reputation is based on quality rather than merely quantity.

The Power Privilege

2011-10-04T13:25:00.000-04:00

At this time of year I cherish each sunny day. There are the obvious reasons for this since having passed the autumnal equinox in my patch of the globe the number of daylight hours is rapidly shrinking. And the not so obvious reason like laundry.

A couple of years ago my ancient dryer decided to stop working. That was fine by with me since it rarely got used. I moved into this house 8.5 years ago and brought with me my spanking new energy efficient dryer. The movers quickly discovered that the basement doorway was too narrow to get it down to the official laundry room. At the time this was a small crisis. But I made do. The old dryer worked but was never very efficient so I started hanging my clothes to air dry nearly from the start of moving into this house. I basically used the old dryer for sheets in the winter and 'emergency' loads. So when it stopped working altogether that didn't phase me. Sheets can air dry too and if you set up your house to accomodate this then it is not a huge problem. It is important to note that I live in a two person household so I have the luxury of space and small laundry usage that a bigger household does not.

In the fall I hang up wash loads on my outside line with grateful appreciation to the dimming autumnal sun. Each fall load I hang I hope for enough heat and wind to dry. I check weather reports to see if leaving it out overnight is feasible in case the day doesn't provide ideal conditions for a quick dry. In the summer these matters are moot and I often squeeze three washloads on the line in one day.

As I checked the weather last night before putting on a load of laundry I chuckled at how the time of use power changes here in Toronto have radically altered my household hydro usage. I was raised in a house that demanded lights were turned off when the room was not in use and I have done the same. The smart meter changes have demanded a little more sophistication. My dishwasher and washing maching never get run during prime hours. In fact the only power that I use during prime hours is this computer and sometimes making dinner (and my fridge and freezer). And often dinner manages to be late enough to avoid the premium (we tend to eat on european hours in this house, especially during the summer months). I have room air conditioners that also see some use during the summer months during heat waves.

There is a provincial election this week in Ontario and one of the big topics has been the increase in our hydro bills due to the current government implementing a harmonized tax. The other side of this debate is the smart meters themselves since they have not been implemented throughout Ontario yet and the other parties are calling them a cash grab by the incumbent party.

This kind of doublespeak confuses me. My own experience since the smart meter was installed AND the harmonized tax was implemented has been that my hydro bills have gone slightly down. About 5-10%. To me this is quite satisfying knowing that the small changes in my behaviour have allowed a modest decrease to my household budget AND have helped to smooth out peak power demands.

We all know too well the saying that "power corrupts". If we apply this idiom to hydro usage we see that it not only corrupts but blindsides a population that is all too unwilling to make small changes towards ending our reliance on carbon based energy.

You are my fate.

2011-10-03T12:43:00.000-04:00

Daughter turns 17 today. This means that I got to say "my daughter" for the first time 17 years ago.

Language is so powerful. These two words melted my heart for days, if not weeks after uttering them for the first time. Even today I can tap into the wonder and marvel of those words and feel my heart melt a little.

There are so many hormones involved in this thing called mothering.

When I went on that farm trip a couple of weeks ago I felt like I was going to 'let down' when they started milking the cow. It blew my mind that all these years later I could still empathetically release oxytocin by merely watching a cow getting milked (by machine even!).

I was a staunch La Leche League (LLL) member. Attachment parenting, etc. My daughter's crib turned out to be a great clothes hamper - i.e. she rarely slept in it..maybe twice - and since she grew by leaps and bounds in that first year a good clothes sorting basket was a handy thing to have (albeit a bit pricy). Once I start earning a living wage again I intend to put LLL to the top of my donation list. They are an amazing organization for new parents to turn to for support in all aspects of parenting.

I remember being amazed learning through LLL that some women who adopted could train their breasts/bodies to lactate. With the cooperation of the new born infant. The miracle of birth is one thing but learning about this marvel of the female body completely gobsmacked me. Hormones.

Daughter was a real snuggler, well after being weaned, and really only stopped snuggling with me when she started snuggling with her teenage friends. They regularly lie all over each other in the school hallways with heads on laps, feet on arms, etc. There is nothing sexual about it (not overtly) and they are all platonically affectionate with each other.

I find this amazing. At 17 I was not lying around on anyone's lap that I also wasn't furtively groping on Friday/Saturday nights. Affection was always regarded as a prelude to something sexual. And frankly I'm not sure if that was a nature or nurture thing. I think catholicism and a general prudity of culture lingering in my 1980s suburb world had a lot more to do with it than I would have thought even 10 years ago.

My child, now a young woman, has been raised with the assurance that she is loved. I know that she is nearly finished putting on her wings and will soon fly away. That breaks my heart in some ways but I also know that this attachment parenting thing goes well beyond the nursing stage. Hormonal human bonds transcend biology, as evidenced by the adoptive mothers that trick their bodies. As daughter herself put it best in one of her notes to me long ago: "You are my fate".

Freedom 105?

2011-10-01T13:57:00.000-04:00

Father called a short while ago.

"I didn't want to worry you."

Fuck.

He has been eight days in hospital. This is his third trip this year. No answers as to why he is passing out other than it has something to do with his heart, they think (!?).

One more test Monday and then they might be putting in a defibrillator.

Both of my parents are 68 and in moderate states of health.

My dad, up until last Friday, has been working full time at a seasonal job since April and was really pleased that he landed this full time job so that he can collect employment insurance throughout the winter and return to the job next spring. My mother has basically never not worked since arriving in Canada in 1967.

So far, each of their retirement years have been spent paying off debt.

They are not together and haven't been since 1982. I often refer to their continuing state of employment (well into what should be their golden years) as one of the perks of divorce. Or penances.

I'm not alone with this view point. I can't think of one divorcee that has had an easy time of it financially even if it meant downsizing into a luxurious condominium from the family mansion after divorce proceedings. I have also personally lived this reality and have come to accept there is no golden years future for me too.

If my father's health now means he will no longer be able to work I fear for his mental well being, with good cause. He has shown himself to be unable to 'do nothing' and today I am left wishing that I could support both of my parents so that each of them could pursue more leisurely activities at this stage of their lives. Travel for my father. Writing and travel for my mother.

As someone who currently is not gainfully employed these are pretty lofty goals. But as someone who also just witnessed the passing of a similarly aged neighbour I am not rationally processing my fears at the moment.

Damn.

No Sh*t Sherlock

2011-09-29T10:20:00.000-04:00

Daughter says the above to me this morning after I stated the bleeding obvious about something (before having my coffee, to be fair).

Daughter leaves for school and I am thrown back 25 years to a conversation I had with a university friend.

During my last couple of years at university I had the good fortune to obtain a part-time on-campus job that had some awesome side benefits. One of which was being able to do my homework or knit on the job - I was giving out change for the arcade machines in what was called the games room and unlocking the ping pong room on an as needed basis.

This job also allowed me to befriend a few of the people who staffed the 24 hour student life centre. This centre provided a myriad of services including the cheapest and most delicious coffee on campus. These friends and I would often hang out in the new smoking room which was added midway during my undergraduate days - before that you could smoke anywhere in the building (think wide open space with many couches/comfy chairs and tables...then think hazy smoke settling over it during late night study sessions).

Me and this new friend, S., had developed a friendship that had gotten to the point of comfortable familiarity...we were on the level of personal joking but not many confidences had yet been shared. I had actually been aware of S. during nearly my whole time at university since she was quite distinctive in appearance and worked at the student life centre so was in a high profile position for most students that frequented the centre.

One day S. and I were alone in the smoking room. The smoking room in itself had become like a private members club. All of us that were regular users were very friendly with each other and any new face was greeted warmly and tentative welcoming chit chat was proferred.

S. announced that she had something to share with me. I was puzzled momentarily but then I knew what she was about to say. I was uncomfortable. I didn't want her to announce her 'news'. Part of me was uncomfortable because I had had a similar announcement given to me in very different circumstances a couple of years prior and it basically ended that friendship. I didn't want my friendship to end with S. and I thought that by her making this announcement that there could only be that kind of outcome...an ending.

S. took a deep breath and proceeded to tell me, with some fits and starts, that she was a lesbian. The thing is, this information was no surprise to me or to anyone else that knew her. Even in the late 80s some of us were hip to this kind of thing and dear S. was, well, quite butch. In an era of big hair and neon colours, S. dressed in mens tshirts, boys jeans, and kept her hair cropped very very short. After her 'announcement' I waited for what I thought was coming next - which my only previous experience of someone coming out had led me to expect. It didn't happen. She didn't say "I'm a lesbian and I'm attracted to you, what do you say?" In my relief at the lack of this addendum I said something I probably shouldn't have. I don't think I said "No sh*t sherlock." but it was something just as trite and didn't acknowledge the deeply personal nature of what she had entrusted me with. I will never forget how hurt she looked when I said that I had suspected this was the case. At the time I was perplexed that she was so unaware of how others perceived her strongly 'butch' nature. Now with my middle-aged hindsight I wish I could go back and just hug her for the difficult road she was on in a completely homophobic 1980s world.

Our friendship continued into the next couple of years and I even had dinner with her and her girlfriend a few times at their apartment. Interestingly enough, hers was the second last 'announcement' of homosexuality I was to receive in my life. The last was my sister and with her I know I said something similar. After a lifetime of knowing someone as close as a sibling you should not be surprised by this kind of information. If you are then you might not be paying enough attention. And like my experience with S., I wish I could go back and just hug my sister instead of treating it so glibly.

In a country that now legally acknowledges the equality of people with any sexual orientation I can recognize the heroic acts of my two university friends and my sister: they were pioneers willing to come out amidst challenges I can only surmise.

Will work for food

2011-09-28T10:41:00.000-04:00

I've been mostly unemployed for over two years.

I belonged to a union for nearly 10 years...paid $1000s in union dues and then suddenly lost my contract job after being at the top of the union heap. The job requirements for a position I had held steadily for nearly 10 years changed overnight. I was given no warning and there was no grandfathering. Letters to the union remain unanswered.

Needless to say I lost a whole lot of respect for unions due to this distasteful experience.

So, during the past couple of years I've explored a whole lot of options. I've sent out many resumes.

I have discovered that I fall into this curious niche market: over educated and possibly older than the target audience of the jobs I've been applying to.

At a time in my life that I thought I'd be able to swing into any type of job since I do have impeccable qualifications and my daughter is in her last year of high school (so I could take a job with travel requirements) I have yet to be interviewed (let alone offered) a job.

It is hard not to be discouraged and often I am. Greatly. I go into blind panics...especially as I see my debt load rising daily (I long ago ran out of employment insurance). I have gotten to the point that I think I will explore temporary secretarial options. It is disheartening to think that my mathematics and engineering degrees are to be put to such waste.

I have had contract work my entire adult life with the longest contracts being one year and the great majority of them being 4 month contracts. I have lived a lifetime of contract employment and naturally have thought about starting some kind of business. Yet a part of me craves the stability of a longer term stint. Benefits. Pension plans. Things that most of my classmates from years ago have enjoyed their entire working lives. Things that have been challenging to me due to having a child that required far too many sick days to allow me to enjoy the regularity of a traditional 9 - 5 job. And once I got the union job and was at the top of the seniority list I thought I wouldn't have to worry about it (even though there was no benefits and no pension with that job and my contracts always depended on enrolment numbers).

Today I remain hopeful and will once again enjoy an outing this afternoon that wouldn't be possible if I was working a traditional job.

A part of my soul was dying in that previous life and it feels good to publicly reject it.

No longer just passing by.

2011-09-27T11:31:00.000-04:00

I am one of the fortunate people that has managed to arrive to middle age and I have personally witnessed very little death.

In the natural order of things I know this will change but other than giving my heart a little squeeze when thinking of my parents passing on I don't put too much time or energy into thinking about it. One never knows what can happen or when and worrying about it will do nothing to prevent it.

So when I found out last night that one of my neighbours passed away I was shocked. This is not someone I know beyond passing an occasional fresh cut peony too and exchanging weather pleasantries but he was a fixture during my time in this house which is now almost eight and a half years. I don't even know his name but since his daughter lived in their basement I always thought of him as C's dad. His daughter is of my age and we have chatted a lot over the time I've lived here. Her mother, the new widow, has limited english and my chats with her are also limited to pleasantries.

I first became aware of this man when the ambulance and fire trucks showed up in the middle of the night within the first couple of years of me living here. When I asked the daughter what had happened in the days following I found out that this man had had a heart attack. I found out about his expected convalescence period and his intent to return to work as soon as possible.

Sure enough, in the proceeding months, I saw him shuffling off to work each morning and returning at night. The man worked long hours and the only thing that seemed to have changed was that he had acquired a cane and he had lost a fair bit of weight on his already slight frame.

Within a short period of this heart attack, he had another. Ambulances and firetrucks again. Discussions with C. told me that there was a longer hospital convalescence this time yet he was again planning on returning to work even though this time she didn't seem so eager about this plan. At that time I was shocked he had survived another one since he no longer looked as strong as he had when I first moved to this house.

As far as I was aware, this was his last heart attack and until last Friday night I saw him shuffle back and forth to work and we would exchange the usual pleasantries. A few months ago I saw him on his way home near the main intersection from our street and he was smoking. I was shocked, since I know he had quit years earlier, but immediately my ex-smoker empathy kicked in. I've joked with friends that I just might pick up the smokes again in my senior years.

I admired this man and his strength. It turns out that his fatal heart attack this past Saturday night was his fourth. He was 75 years of age and worked until the day before he died.

I will miss seeing him shuffling up and down the road and sitting out on his front porch with his wife and daughter. I hope that as I age I might manifest some of the strength and courage he portrayed. I also selfishly hope that my own death and the death of my loved ones goes as quickly as this man.

Routine

2011-09-26T10:05:00.000-04:00

Six weeks for a habit.

10,000 hours to master.

Have you heard of these guidelines?

If I apply these notions to this blog then I should be habitually posting in this blog by about November 5, 2011. Unfortunately I won't master it until on or around September 19, 2066 (at which point I will be 99 years old and hopefully using voice recognition software or brain implants to prepare my Modern Times blog podcasts/writings/shout outs to other life forms in the universe).

I have a daughter that is in her final year of high school this year so our talk is often of plans for next year. Last night at dinner I shared with her how it took me approximately 3 years of my undergraduate degree to figure out that a specific routine worked best for my university GPA (and graduate school prospects). The routine was simple and I managed to keep it up. This resulted in my average being raised considerably and I was able to apply to graduate school a couple of years after my undergrad knowing that they wouldn't jettison my application directly into the rubbish bin.

The routine was this: Schedule (earlyish) morning classes for most of the week. In my second last term (when I established the routine) I distinctly remember having Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes at 8:30 and then I believe I had 10:30 classes on Tuesday and Thursday. The other secret to this routine was to actually attend these classes - which I did. It was really difficult for me to do this at first but after a few weeks it was a breeze.

Today, as I looked at my blank blogger page I let my mind wander as to what on earth I could possibly write about. I felt completely uninspired and started thinking that maybe today I didn't need to write. The next thoughts became about why I started this venture. And that led directly to my discussions with my daughter last night.

Sometimes routine can be quite ordinary. But on the way to mastery it is essential. Even if mastery might be just a pipe dream :)

Peer Pressure

2011-09-25T13:57:00.000-04:00

http://www.savagechickens.com/

It sounds so trite to say it but I'm gonna do it anyway.

You can't beat friendship.

I just spent time with someone I met at aged 20. That would make it almost a 25 year relationship. One of the longest non-blood relationships I've had that has sustained itself with some regularity.

I feel like I've had a solid serving of love to top me up until my next encounter with intimacy.

Because, as I've told some of my friends before, that's how I regard my good friends. They are intimate with me in ways that do not include sexuality and I'd marry each and every one of them if it wasn't for the fact that we just don't feel the inclination to have sex with each other. Never have, and likely never will.

As someone who has managed to bypass the permanent monogamous relationship state of adulthood I guess I've come to rely on these types of friendships to fill the need for intimacy that humans seem to require.

I've watched most friends (and myself) transition in and out of sexually intimate relationships and can see the clear benefits for some and disadvantages for others and the fine line that exists between the state of bliss and the state of discord.

The same line exists in my platonic relationships but it is not such a 'fine' line for me anymore. As my mother has started to say: "I don't have time for this shit" and I'm taking on the same attitude with respect to the friendships I've had/have/considered.

I know that as a friend I have flaws. Many. I also have been confronted by a few loving friends over the years and have learned to consider constructive criticism and the feelings of others. I have thankfully also learned that I am willing to learn how to communicate with others. That is what makes me not only a good friend but also, at times, a great friend. And that is also what makes my friends great. We are not perfect but we are all astounding people. This is because the group of people that have chosen to occasionally explore this path called life with me are, without exception, people who are growing and evolving continuously. They are self aware and can also see the areas in the their life that need work. And because they are growing and allowing me to witness this growth first hand I feel compelled to join along.

Life doesn't really change much from childhood other than we can choose to hang with the dead weights or the people that are going places (emotionally) with their life. I am fortunate that throughout most of my own life I have had some pretty evolved people around me that have included me in their circles and I feel that I am a much better person for it.

I find that after spending face-to-face time with one of my intimate friends, I feel hope knowing that in the dark times ahead (because there are always dark times ahead!) there will at least be this shoulder to cry on. Even if it is a shoulder that isn't seen very often due to circumstance or geography. And after the tears there is the gentle nudge forward to find the light once again.

Diets, Fads and Religion

2011-09-24T11:07:00.000-04:00

I recently interacted with a couple of people who I didn't realize were animal welfare activists. Not PETA members but apparently just as fanatical.

When I told them I had been a vegetarian and even a vegan for a number of years in my late 20s-early 30s they seemed to get quite animated (i.e. there is hope...we can draw her back). They seemed about to crush my argument of losing energy while on a vegetarian diet when I pulled out the big guns and told them that I was no longer a vegetarian because of medical reasons.

That confounded them and I could see the disbelief in their eyes. I repeated the phrase "We all have our own beliefs when it comes to our diet" a number of times in a number of different ways. One of them was dismissive, immediately. I felt the need to explain even further and was flustered by not remembering all the fancy names for the chemicals and the reactions that take place in the stomach when certain foods are eaten by people with certain auto immune diseases.

It brought to mind a potluck dinner party I went to in the last year where there was discussion about what ingredients were in certain foods (undoubtedly instigated by myself since being gluten free always inspires this). After about 10 minutes of lively discussions by pairings in the entire party (we were all in the kitchen gathering our plates of food) someone piped up: "Remember when we went to dinner parties and nobody talked about dietary restrictions?". All of us laughed because yes, I think the 21st century has brought an awareness of food and health issues and the scientific research has advanced enough so that even an individual who is not a food scientist/nutritionist/doctor can assess for themselves how they feel eating certain foods and eliminating others.

For example, have you ever given up gluten? When I first gave up gluten I felt a definitely lifting of "brain fog" that I had no idea was even there. I've talked to others about this and it is not uncommon. Unfortunately that is not why I remain gluten free. I follow a specialty diet since I have multiple sclerosis. My logic in doing so is: a) I can't afford the traditional treatments; and b) there is not a lot of evidence that the treatments do anything. So since I really don't have anything to lose and can possibly prevent blindness or a wheelchair in my future (or worse) I might as well give this a go. And from nearly 5 years of experience following the diet I can say that the diet affects my quality of life too.

As I attempted to explain this, the looks of disbelief in the eyes of the animal rights activists I was talking to broke my heart. These are people that haven't faced these type of choices and they were regarding my own choice as evidence that I was some kind of wacko.

This is the way many people regard religious fanatics too yet mega food corporations have embraced them. These companies are merely exemplifying the age old truism: "Religion makes money". I find it offensive that people automatically dismiss diet restrictions as a fad when many people are following them for real health reasons. These same people might respect a muslim for their halal food choices or a jew for their kosher choices in the interest of embracing religious diversity. I don't really expect that to change anytime soon but by writing this perhaps I will enlighten just one person. As one activist I had contact with for many years used to say in the face of clear public adversity: "We soldier onwards."

Farmers Feed Cities (and make music?)

2011-09-23T13:33:00.000-04:00

I volunteered for Sustain Ontario's City to Country tour yesterday.

I had the privilege of being taken to three different farms and learning quite a lot about supply management issues in the farming industry (pdf link) here in Ontario, Canada. I also got quite a bit of fresh air and lots of wonderful conversation.

There were fourteen of us on the bus and on our way back to the starting point people remarked on the fact that they had never been to a dairy or egg farm before. I myself have been to a number of farms from my days living in Waterloo and involvement in the food movement there but never had I been to an egg farm. In fact, the only reason any of us were allowed to go to the egg farm was because the farm was converting from a 50,000 battery caged hen operation to a 8000 cage free hen research centre. The public is not allowed to visit working egg farms due to ministry regulations.

The cage free egg research farm was not yet up and running because it was in the midst of conversion so we got to poke around in all the areas and see the old set up (six layers of tiny cages that held seven hens each) and the work in progress of the new set up (large indoor areas where @ 1000 hens will roam free and have access to large outdoor protected areas).

I don't think the images and smells of the defunct battery cage operation will leave me anytime soon. Nor the thought that the egg production and supply management system in Ontario is flawed and unless consumers demand cage free operations (from their politicians!) it will not change anytime soon.

After visiting the 'haunted' battery cages we then luckily got to see free range hens at Coopers CSA. As we approached the outside mobile hen pen I was struck by the musicality of the birds. The sounds were so soothing....I tried to capture it with a short video:

Raising chickens in my backyard has been my dream for awhile (much to the amusement of my friends and the dismay of my teenager). Legally.

Yesterday's excursion reminded me how fulfilling it is to be close to our food and how I long to immerse myself full time in this and be able to pay my bills at the same time.

Remarkably unremarkable.

2011-09-21T10:50:00.000-04:00

I poured over a series of books in my childhood. I couldn't get enough of finding out the mundane details of Midwest American Pioneer life from the viewpoint of a girl who aged throughout the series, going from just below my age to a young married mom.

My formative years were spent reading. The pages of the books in this particular series became dog eared and the binding on the paperbacks started cracking. And, similar to the Velveteen Rabbit, the books became living things to me. I absorbed the day-to-day life details by osmosis since they were incidental to the real (and somewhat autobiographical) stories portrayed in the books.

As childhood slipped away and more sensational authors like Erica Jong joined my list of reading pleasures (nice pun eh?) the pioneer series was shelved.

In the last few years I've thought often of these books. I even found a book outlining the detailed biography of the author and her daughter. I was disappointed to learn that the book series I was so fond of was actually a happier version of what really happened in her life and that soon after the 'ending' of the series, the author's life took a few nasty turns and life remained quite challenging for much of her young adult life. She didn't actually write the books until the onset of her senior years with the encouragement of her daughter who had herself become a successful professional writer.

In the mid-70s, this book series was destroyed [imho] by the turning of it into a long running and horribly inaccurate tv series that continues to deliver residuals to it's producers. By definition, television has to be remarkable to maintain ratings and on it's own this series just didn't have enough to sustain the 10 seasons it ended up running (and a multitude of spin offs). I suffered through a few episodes and found the characters horribly misaligned with my firmly implanted characterizations from the years spent reading and rereading these tomes. I actually now point to that series as the beginning of the end of my television watching days.

There is something to be said for ordinary. How did a pioneer family heat their house? How did they go 'grocery' shopping? What happened during the holidays? How did they talk to their teachers? What was their dinner time routine? What happened when family came for a visit? How did they prepare their food (my favourite parts!)? How did they socialize with friends?

This is the sort of thing that I found remarkable as an eight - twelve year old girl. And over thirty years later, I find it remarkable at how such unremarkable plot lines continue to resonate in the very core of my being.

Cheap Shots

2011-09-20T09:54:00.000-04:00

It is always interesting for me to think now of how quickly the world has changed. Back in 1977, with my first camera, there was always the underlying cost consciousness for me (and my parents). Every click meant a photo development cost and if you didn't focus or use a flash when needed you were essentially throwing money away because the development of the photo was the only way to know about whether your skills made the cut.

This new hobby of mine was soon neglected with the resurgence of parental turmoil and the almost overnight removal of extras from our comfortable middle class life.

The hobby didn't really resurface until the birth of my child. This was in 1994 and although digital cameras were making their debut in the consumer market, my now adult pocketbook was competing with the costs of a new mortgage and child care costs. And then, after the abrupt ending of my marriage, frugality once again became a necessity. However, I did manage to snap enough pix in those early childhood years to fill (and label!) a few photo albums.

And now I own a digital camera thanks to my mother. About 8 years ago she gave me an awesome present of a top of the line point and click camera with a swivel LCD screen. By today's standards it is quite primitive but I still love it. In the past year I've taken to carrying it with me nearly everywhere. I delight in the opportunity to take unplanned urban shots like the ones below. I love the ability to take multiple shots and immediately assess them (or not). The camera has become like an appendage to me. And perhaps it is my way of taking cheap shots at the world I am so regularly angry with.

South side of King St West East of Spadina September 2011

Vaughan Rd North of St. Clair August 2011

I have had fun filling up albums on Flickr, Facebook and Picasa. I am contemplating trying all 21 of the suggestions here. My old recipe blog has a lot of food pictures and may soon see a resurgence due to my never ending penchant for cooking and my new knowledge about taking food photos :)

My grade 7 journal: "My favourite class is shop."

2011-09-19T09:22:00.001-04:00

There is nothing like getting down and dirty with some power tools. I literally hear my adolescent self rejoice. I spent a few weeks this summer stripping the baseboards and refinishing the oak wood floor in the smallest room of my circa 1930 Toronto house.

And now, each and everytime I walk by the room with the 'new floor' I feel such pride in my accomplishment I expect the goddess herself to smite me for indulging so regularly in one of the seven deadlies.

But,what you don't see in the above photo collage is the sweat. In Toronto, in August, there was quite a bit of it poured onto the floorboards. And the tears.

The tears came as proficiently as the sweat some days.

Tears for a life not lived. Tears for a body caged by a disease that forbids a full time switch to physical labour of any kind. Tears for lovers lost. Childhood endings. Misguided choices. Abandoned and neglected friendships.

When rubbing in the oil on the floor after nearly 3 weeks of developing a very intimate relationship with it I felt I was anointing it, for in a peculiar way, the old floor has become my sacrificial lamb. An offering to the universe of myself. Stripped raw and then polished and buffed.

So take me as I am universe. I am ready, willing, and able for service.

LBF: Life Before Facebook

2011-09-16T10:14:00.000-04:00

Events in my life have taken many twists and turns in the last couple of years so that by the end of July I thought, I need to unplug from the greatest friend debauchery the world has ever known. Even if it is only for a wee while. So I took a month off of facebook this past August.

I can report that after one month exactly 4 of my 661 facebook 'friends' contacted me via phone/email. I have 3 immediate family members and luckily we maintain regular contact. So, as a mathematician I have to evaluate this using the cold hard facts. 4/661 people are really my friends. I interacted with approximately 0.6% of the total publicly declared number of connections that facebook deems friends.

I don't know about you, but that's about the same as LBF. In my adult life I have found that in a given month I socialize with about 5-10 people and since I actually do know people that don't have a facebook account that number is about correct for my facebook free month.

Facebook clutters my life and I'm not sure I can return to it again. I've poked around a bit in the few weeks since I 'returned' (pun intended) and I feel like a lost sheep. The spell is broken. The charm has ceased.

I am now officially living LAF: Life After Facebook. This 'new' life will include this blog. Or another blog (I have a habit of creating new blogs....maybe I will commit to one eventually).

Legacy

2009-07-06T01:16:00.000-04:00

I think it's because I'm 42 years old that I am thinking of this.

Legacy.

What will I leave behind?

I am at a turning point in my life. My child is almost grown. I have yet to establish a proper 'career' (contract work for nigh on two decades now...never more than a year long...but the bills get paid....).

The ice caps are melting and the economy has tanked.

I have received many wonderful gifts from our world. A solid education. A love of learning. A desire to do well for the world.

But how best to pass that on?

Despite the well over a decade I've had of teaching (mostly post-secondary but also SK-12) I have yet to earn a formal post-secondary certification in the field. My thoughts at the moment are about actually applying to formally obtain the Bachelor of Education degree required to teach in the public schools in this province.

We all know what legacies our teachers leave us and I'm thinking, maybe this is the best course of action.

I am truly interested in passing on my passion for learning.

And if the cost of doing that is one more year of university tuition? So be it.

Education: Storytelling with Technology

2009-06-26T22:09:00.000-04:00

"But they won't learn the same way with this newfangled stuff like pencils or books. The traditional ways of telling stories around the campfire have shown to be successful...why meddle with it? My father, your father, my mother, your mother,...you and I...we have all learned successfully this way...why change? "

This statement could have been written thousands of years ago by someone resisting the idea of writing down material in in order to teach. In the history of humanity, verbal storytelling was/is our mainstay in terms of passing on what is important to our progeny (now called education).

I have a master's degree in the management of technology. The cornerstone in my learning is that a pencil can be regarded as 'technology'. Laugh as you might but it is a pivotal hinge point regarding what technology is.

Replace 'pencil' or 'book' with 'internet' or 'twitter' in the above statement.

Can you see the implications?

Humanity is now gathered around a large fire...we can now twitter amongst ourselves and share knowledge across many boundaries (but not all, not yet). This is not unlike our ancestors huddled around a communal fire in a cave long ago and sharing stories about planting or hunting or fishing or exploring...stories that lead to others trying out what they'd heard. Learning from others. The essence of humanity.

What story to do you have to share? What learnings have you gleaned?

Namaste.

Opting out - maybe there is no glass ceiling?

2009-06-08T02:06:00.000-04:00

I find this article powerful. (thx Javed!)

I am one of those women he writes of.

I opted into motherhood in 1994 and my life was irrevocably changed.

At the time (1994) I gave birth, I was enrolled in a PhD program in engineering....in the area of Management of Technology.

At the boom of the internet age I was at the leading edge in a world class university (University of Waterloo)...but giving birth to a child changed all of my priorities ...I did not finish that doctorate. I have yet to see a female authoritative figure in this field and wonder if all of us just opted out.

My child is now 14.5 years old and I am re-emerging and wondering how many other women have made this choice (not choosing 45+ hour week day care and opting to stay mostly at home during formative years)....perhaps some of you have made similar choices?

Online persona

2009-05-24T02:29:00.000-04:00

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