kat du jour

clock wings

2012-01-26T19:25:00.002-05:00

Wow. Time flies when you're getting married. It's been nearly a month since the big day, but over two months since I last posted. I've neglected blog land, but for good reasons.

Tonight Jesse's working late. This is the first time since we got married that I've come home and been alone. Strangely I feel like I have more time. I made salad & curried veggies plus lentils, baked muffins, cleaned up and played guitar. I haven't baked or played guitar in ages - especially guitar. Since Jesse moved to Ottawa I've felt less need to play. Since we've been nesting as a married couple, I haven't found much need or time to bake.

Looking back to a year ago when I baked a lot and spent a lot of time playing guitar, I can see that both were for a number of reasons. For one, I had more time. Add to that time, I was kind of lonely. With this hardly-any-single-people-in-it city, I found my evenings and weekends were often spent alone, so I filled them by baking and playing guitar. While muffins also served to fill my stomach, guitar also served to fill my need to do something with my emotions. It was a lot like journalling, especially when I first moved here and dad's death was still fresh.

Jesse's asked me to play for him, but I still find it much like a diary: very personal and vulnerable. I think, as close as we are, I'd feel overly exposed. I get performance anxiety, because playing for me isn't about sounding good or excelling musically, but about expressing what's in me in a way that neither pictures or writing can. I find it funny that I can't play for the person I trust most in the world, but it's not like I read him my diary either. Maybe one day... probably one day... just not yet.

In other related news, being married is amazing. It's better than I ever imagined, and no Christian friends, I'm not referring to actions in the bedroom. I'm talking about going to sleep and waking up beside my best friend (ok that had to do with the bedroom, but not the way you were thinking!), being free to hang out all of the time and not have to say goodbye at the end of the night, to have a constant ear, to be a constant ear, to pray, laugh, love and eat together (and I'm not making reference to popular books here).

Probably a year ago plus a few days, going back to before I met Jesse, I would have snickered at a post like this. I just wouldn't have understood and admittedly, I would have been a little jealous. All that gushing! Silly girl, I'd have thought. And how could you do less of what you love just because someone is in your life? Well, it's not that I will always bake less or play less guitar. It's a season in my life. Right now is the time to learn to be a loving wife, and to get to know my fantastic husband.

One year ago plus a few days (we met January 22nd, 2011), I knew I had a lot of love to give. Damn it feels good to have an amazing man to give it to!

end gushing.

quick thoughts and a long blurb about passion

2011-11-18T22:59:00.004-05:00

Jesse and I are somewhere around 44 days away from being married. That's just over a month, really. The closer we get to the date, the more real it feels. It also feels daunting, but I'm sure things will come together.

* * *

Teaching land is going well. I got a chance to attend the Circle of Light conference put on by the Ministry of Education this week. It was for Aboriginal education, to bring light to all of us about what the challenges and successes are in teaching Aboriginal content, teaching Aboriginal students, and more. While there I found myself often bored with too much sitting and listening, or annoyed with the pretentiousness of the Fairmont Royal York hotel and it's ridiculously exspensive nature (ie. $4.50 for a half can of Pringles, $8 Blue Light, $15.95 for the use of internet...), I came home with so much on my mind. There were a few really good sessions, like Susan Aglukark and Joseph Boyden's keynote speaking, listening to a man share his story in discovering he was "Indian", learning about how we are all Treaty people, and especially the student panel. They should make an entire conference by students to educators. That would be the most informative. Policy schmolicy rhetoric, rhetoric. Blah. What's actually going on in students' lives? What do they care about? That's what's important.

I got to meet a few street youth during a night off on Tuesday. There they were at Queen and Spadina, asking for money, and being heckled by some half-drunk man. He was telling them they should get a job and that he knows someone who can give them a job. The youth, who have been offered many jobs without any follow through, were pissed about this man's insisting. Their loud arguing was what attracted me to them.

When the girl of the trio saw me approach, she came to me. We greeted each other and I offered them some fruit and granola bars that I'd taken from the conference - I'd been hoarding some excess food and realized I could give it to people who really needed it... I felt like Robin Hood. Anyway, the three youth were happy to take my food and I decided to chat with them for a bit. Years ago I might have tried to bang them over the head with my Bible-thumping ways; this time I just had a conversation. I listened. They asked me questions about my life. I told them I was a high school teacher. One told me he graduated with A's. One said he dropped out, but if I was his teacher, he'd come every day! Cute. We talked about lots of things. Smiles and laughter were exchanged. I think I've grown up a bit. Finally.

The youth reminded me of my life in my early teens, somewhat directionless, but happy, no proud, to seem rebellious, rough and on the edge of society. They reminded me of my own students, some of whom have lived on the streets themselves or have been very close to it. What's more, they reminded me of what I want in life, and that's to keep working with kids like them. There's something so real, so genuine, so beautiful about youth who are sick of how life's treated them, who throw their fists - and middle fingers - up to and at society.

Sure, I could teach in a sparkling clean school with lots of funding and well-behaved over-achievers, but what would I get out of it? A few smirks behind my back and perhaps the feeling of accomplishment through the so-called bettering of society through sending students to university to be doctors, lawyers and economists?

That's not what I want. I don't want the gossip behind my back; I want the attitude to my face. It's not easy, but it's real. I want to see kids who fear the world, to start trusting people. How do they begin to trust? When they see that you're genuine. One of the speakers at the conference said, "kids will see through your bullshit" (I loved that he said that to a bunch of suits!). People just want to know that they're loved, that they're liked, and that they can be safe to be themselves. I want to be that teacher who helps kids, who no one else gives a shit about, realize how wonderfully fantastic they are and that they've got more to live for.

My conversation with those three street youth on Tuesday night wasn't all positive and inspirational. They admitted to being drunk, to being alcoholics, and to choosing this life on the street. There were some topics brought up that I wish I hadn't engaged in, and I most certainly don't think I changed their lives - nor was I trying to. I think that while maybe they appreciated my apples, smiles and conversation, they may well have woken the next morning a little hung over with no memory of me whatsoever.

What this conversation did do, however, was give some kids on the fringes of society at least a few minutes of dignity. What's more, my encounter with those youth reminded me of who I am and what I'm here for: I'm built for life on the street. I don't mean literally, but in the sense of working with the class level in which society has pegged these kids. They're "at risk", if you will, and I will proudly take the risk in loving kids like them, so that they feel loved, so that they can love others, too. I say all this not because I feel better than them. Honestly, I sometimes wonder what I can even offer to them! But it doesn't matter. What I know is in my gut, a deep longing exists to see at-risk youth find themselves.

On Tuesday night, after two long days with professionals in suits and gourmet food fit for a king, I stood on the streets of downtown Toronto sharing a few moments of reality with three young, vibrant, tattoo'd, pierced and somewhat stinky youth. They brought me joy like no other that day. I felt invigorated and uplifted - by street kids. Who knew?!

Walking back to the frivolous hotel, I had a huge grin on my face. I needed that boost. Those kids in black and boots brought light to my night. I rested well.

A Moment's Rest from the New Digs

2011-11-04T22:28:00.003-04:00

I'm home alone on a Friday night. I'm in the new apartment, where Jesse and I will start our life together, but not for two months - less than two months, actually. I will live my final fifty-six days of bachelorette life alone with my cat, Peter-Banjo. This sounds sad, and it's true, I miss my roommate and like company. However, I'll be okay. With the craziness of the past three weeks - it's a long story, but all centered around having to move and find a place in that short time, plus work, plus wedding planning - I don't mind having some place where I can sit and think and be still... well, that will come soon once this place is all set up. We need a couch, a rug, some furniture, pictures up, etc.

The view from this apartment is great. It's on the eighth floor. Windows span the entire wall of the living/dining room, which look out east over Ottawa. The bedrooms overlook Dow's Lake. I can see the canal more as the leaves fall off the trees. And the place is bright - very bright. I like sunlight a lot (who doesn't?!), and think this should make for a happy place to live.

Peter is less happy, however. He's not allowed to sleep on my bed with me anymore, in preparation for the fact that Jesse is allergic to him. Moving is even stressful on cats, and he hasn't quite figured this place out (neither have I). He misses our evening snuggles and I think he misses being able to watch the squirrels and birds and people from the main-floor windows at the old place. How does a cat even make sense of life from the eighth floor?

I like the eighth floor, though, as I've mentioned already. Not just for the view, but for the exercise. 8 flights a day and often more is great for the legs. I'm feeling it already, just 3 days in.

So that's it for tonight. Tired rambles from an overworked woman. I need a mental health day. Really, I do. I'm hoping this weekend cuts it.

Peace.

Today

2011-10-15T10:17:00.002-04:00

Time for another quiet Saturday morning post. Today is sunny. It was supposed to be rainy, but I have no complaints, except for the fact that I am inside in my pj's with cleaning and wedding errands to do. Actually, no, I take that back. It's not a complaint. I am enjoying my wedding projects. Currently I am working on pennant banners to decorate the hall, in gray, green and yellow.

Blogging the "du jour" has mostly gone out the windows these days as I've needed to prioritize things like, you know, getting married, work, social life, church and our wedding blog. Somehow things are coming together. I'm even moving soon and not completely freaking out -- just a little.

:)

Anyway, I've got to hit the washroom. I just wanted to write a mini update. I do hope to make this blog more regular once life settles down a bit. January is likely the time for that.

Peace!

NEW DEMOCRATIC PARTY OF ONTARIO | Nobel Laureate Desmond Tutu Endorses Anil Naidoo's NDP Election Bid for Ottawa Centre Ottawa

2011-10-05T09:20:00.000-04:00

NEW DEMOCRATIC PARTY OF ONTARIO Nobel Laureate Desmond Tutu Endorses Anil Naidoo's NDP Election Bid for Ottawa Centre Ottawa

false.

2011-08-30T02:07:00.001-04:00

stupid sleep, who needs you anyway?

Happy Saturday

2011-08-20T15:09:00.004-04:00

This Saturday post does not come from it's usual morning setting. However, it does come from its usual spot on the couch in my living room, with the peace and quiet that a Saturday at home, alone brings along. Instead of coffee I'm eating M&Ms, leftovers from the free tuck I got for volunteering at Eagle Lake Bible Camp. Don't tell anyone, but though I knew I would not eat two chocolate bars a day, I took my daily allowance of two so as to save (hoard) them for another time. Woops - there goes the last one: a sad, blue M&M. Thanks, camp!

I've been home from White Dog for a week and three hours. I've been engaged for about a week and maybe one hour. I don't remember the exact time, but Jesse proposed after picking me up from the airport, after preparing me a nice meal, after eating it and fudge crackle ice cream. Yum, yum, yum.

I miss White Dog.

I had some culture shock after I left that quiet, remote, northwestern Ontario community. A friend drove me to Winnipeg so I could catch my flight, but first, we stopped to have dinner with my friend, Laura. We met her and five men at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant. It was a very flamboyant, intensely chatty, loud and animated dinner, if you catch my drift. From four weeks in an Ojibway reserve in the wilderness to a mostly gay in company Japanese meal in the city: I most certainly experienced the shock of cultural differences!

White Dog is on my mind daily. Jesse and I talk about it sometimes. I am sure we'll be back at some point, we just don't know when.

The city is great and I'm most certainly enjoying being back home with city conveniences all around. It's really, really nice to have a few weeks of down time before the school year starts up again. I'm not yet sure what this year will hold, but I've been checking teaching job postings and will apply for suitable jobs as they come up. I'm looking forward to these last few months as an unmarried woman. I've only got four months left -- that feels both too long and quite short.

Enough rambling. I've got half a Saturday left to enjoy. In the mean time, check this out. It's our wedding blog.

Another Summer in Wabaseemoong

2011-08-07T10:03:00.004-04:00

It's a peaceful, sunny and somewhat smoky morning here in White Dog/Wabaseemoong, Ontario. It's smoky because there are forest fires up north and the smoke is drifting along the English River. Lord have mercy.

Jesse and I took the train here from Saskatoon three weeks ago. The train is a lovely way to see the prairies, and in economy class was only $10 more than the Greyhound! We were able to sit in the dome car for most of the trip, which made for plenty of light and great sight seeing.

Jesse and I spent our first week here helping out with a two-day scrapbooking camp, a day painting walls and trim at the Band Office, then we helped with an overnight fishing camp out at the Wabeseemoong Youth Camp, which is a 20 minute boat ride down the river. We spent our second week at Eagle Lake Bible Camp. For 30 years ELBC has been hosting camps for White Dog. So, we helped with the 9-12 year old's. Jesse was a counselor and my main role was the canoe instructor. I was intimidated at first about being the head of canoeing, but the counselors helped and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves. The kids love Jesse, which is no surprise. He dove right into camp life, playing hard and getting his campers pumped about everything from standing in a straight line at meal-time, to camp skills, games and more. He even organized a camp-wide boys only pillow fight, boxing match style. I think Jesse had more energy than his 15-year-old counselor colleagues! My only redeeming staff moment (as in, Kat IS fun), was spending an entire afternoon letting the kids tip the canoe - over and over and over! I would include that I went all out crazy moves at the girls' dance party, but I think they thought I was more ridiculous than cool in that activity.

Jesse was supposed to head home right after camp, but he decided to extend his stay a few extra days. He found himself quickly attached to the people here in White Dog, so he didn't want to leave. He played (and lost) many games of pool with the folks who hang out at the Resource Centre and played with the kids as well. Jesse is back in Ottawa now, and I've spent this past week helping with the Respect Rx program for grade seven girls. It's been fun talking about self-respect, boundaries and giving respect while making smoothies, fruit fondue and doing activities like jewelery-making, t-shirt painting, camp-outs, s'mores, tubing, swimming and wild blueberry picking. This week, which will be my last, is Respect Rx for the grade 8's.

Coming back to White Dog this year felt normal. I'm glad to be back and will take home many memories and things to think about. While it takes some adjustment for my busy-bodied self, I do like the pace of life here. Things are less rushed. People seem more relaxed. Life is far from perfect and there are certainly things the government and Canadians in general need to pay more attention to, but I do see lots of hope in this community. There's a river in White Dog's backyard, there are trees all around, and there are families doing life as best they know how. I will miss the freedom of the kids, their joyful smiles, and the many, many square kilometres of undeveloped land, lakes and rivers.

I'll be back in Ottawa by this time next week. See you soon, Capital City. For now, I will try to soak in my present home and try to be present with all I have around me.

Miigwetch.

A new outlook on the prairies

2011-07-05T17:58:00.005-04:00

I'm writing this from a coffee shop in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. While my boyfriend runs errands around the city, I am enjoying an americano and chocolate cake, and getting caught up on emails and other junk.

I decided to take my last day of work to clean and run some errands to get ready for my trip. I ended up packing late into the night. Apparently I am the slowest and most scatterbrained packer on the planet. Part of the problem was my lack of space luggage. I bought a backpack at MEC for this trip, hoping to pack light and replace my ergonomically disabling duffle bag. Unfortunately, idealism isn't always practical and I am still very much a woman and very much Kat when it comes to packing. By that I mean I need to be prepared for every circumstance. Thus, even though I only brought two pairs of jeans, 2 hoodies and a few t-shirts, my new backpack was bursting at the seams and oh-so-heavy. I blame toiletries and the salesman at MEC who said I didn't need a very big bag and that a bigger bag only meant I'd pack more than I need. I beg to differ as my smaller bag only caused frustration and the need to use Jesse's more appropriately sized backpack for my extra necessities (sleeping bag and running shoes, to name a few). If I buy anything on this trip there will be no room to take it home!

Moving on...

We left on the first and drove through the night until we got to Regina on Saturday evening. "We" would refer to Jesse and his best friend, Mark, who was the one with the wheels. Conveniently, Mark is working at a camp near Regina and was able to drive us. While I don't sleep well in cars, and therefore got maybe four hours throughout the trip, I was very grateful for the ride. It was much cheaper than even the bus. Unfortunately, we went the shorter and more boring route through Ontario and missed the beauty of Lake Superior along the TransCanada Highway. We also were making good time which meant we couldn't stop at Thunder Bay Restaurant for breakfast. We did, however, stop in Upsala at a roadside diner for a reasonably priced greasy meal. I groggily woke up to Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" as we pulled into the parking lot. The meal was cheap, the waitress had no personality, the decor was expected and the coffee, well, horrendous.

Jesse has just returned from his errands so I'll end this roadtrip ramble. I will mention that we're staying in Outlook, Saskatchewan at his parents' place, hence the above photo. Outlook is a tiny town between Regina and Saskatoon, along the South Saskatchewan River. His parents have a beautiful home with an even more beautiful view of the river. I hope to buy a camera soon so I can snap some photos of the place and of course, the people with whom I am staying. This insignificant town happens to hold the world's largest footbridge. Who knew? So a camera will come in handy for that, too.

The last thing I want to say is that I was very bored in the car between Winnipeg and Regina. The prairie view from the TransCanada is not the prettiest. However, things started to look up as we approached Outlook, and look even better from the outskirts of town. The sky is massive and the sunsets last for hours. I could do without the mosquitos, but the falcons are fantastic.

That's all for now. Peace.

The present moment, the past ten months, and the future two

2011-06-25T08:48:00.007-04:00

It's a quiet Saturday morning. I'm on the couch in the living room, listening to the rain fall lightly outside, relishing in the peace and slowness of this early hour. I meant to sleep in, because I could, finally, but Peter woke me up at 7:30 and I couldn't fall back asleep. I don't mind though. I've already organized a box of junk in my room, done some spiritual reading and prayer, and I'm on my second cup of coffee. It's been ages since I've had a Saturday morning like this with no immediate, pressing activities. Sure, my former roommate is getting married today, but that's not until 2:30 and it's a 20 minute bus ride away. I've got hours to relax and take my time getting ready. This is a good day.

Graduation day was on Thursday. The students are done for the year, my coworkers have left the city for various activities, and I've got four official days left of my LTO position (Long-Term Occasional) covering for the extended leave of the Math, English, Science and Literacy teacher. It's hard to believe an entire school year has gone by. I've now been at this school for over a year (school year, not calendar), working in an environment where I am the minority, as one of two non-Native people, covering subjects for which I am not qualified and sometimes felt way over my head. This year was not without challenges, but it's safe to say it was a really good year. I think of all the good times, camping and canoe trips, field trips to the sugar bush and biking downtown, running the breakfast program, and even teaching some art earlier this semester. I've learned so much from my students and coworkers about Aboriginal people and life in general. I've grown not only as a teacher, but as a person.

I have no idea what September holds for me job-wise, but I am ever thankful for these past ten months and beyond. I don't always understand how I ended up teaching beyond my subject expertise and with people whose cultural backgrounds are so different than mine, but I can only trust that God had a hand in all of it, that this was where I was supposed to be, that somehow it was more purposeful than to provide a paycheck and something to do with myself each day.

In less than a week I'm headed west to Saskatchewan to meet my boyfriend's family. His friend is driving us to Saskatoon, because conveniently, he is working at a camp out there this summer. For two weeks Jesse and I will be hanging out with his parents, sisters, niece and nephew. We might even make a trip up to northern BC to drive his sister home.

From Saskatchewan we plan to Greyhound over to White Dog where we'll be volunteering for a few weeks. I look forward to going back there, to seeing the children and youth who I started getting to know last summer, and some of the friends with whom I volunteered. I won't be doing READ like last time. The primary reason I'm going is to help with Respect Rx, a program for adolescent girls, which teaches them about self -respect, self-esteem, and healthy life choices. I was around while this program was running last summer and felt it was more up my ally in terms of the age group. Much as teaching 5-7 year olds how to read was rewarding and utilized my training as a teacher, I prefer working with older kids and especially like the idea of helping girls realize their value and potential as beautiful, powerful and important human beings.

I'll potentially get back to blogging in "kat du nord", in case people are interested in a specific northern-influenced blog. It does help to keep things more focused and I think it's important for people to become more aware of what's going on in at least one of Canada's First Nation communities.

That's all for now. I forgot how good it feels to blog and process my thoughts fully and properly in written words! Have a good day. Peace.

changes like the weather

2011-06-14T07:04:00.002-04:00

Well, the weather says there may be some rain. I thought it was too good to be true. Ohwell, rain is better than snow!

hopeful skies ahead

2011-06-13T08:15:00.001-04:00

We're going on a canoe trip with the students tomorrow in Algonquin Provincial Park for four days. I really hope this lasts!

how we change as years go by

2011-06-07T07:55:00.004-04:00

Last night I bought a lightweight, compact sleeping bag, small-sized Thermarest, and bug jacket. I also picked up some organic lemony smelling soap. Just a few years ago I couldn't care less. I even disliked the idea of being in the remote wilderness without conveniences of toilets and solid shelter. Now, however, this stuff makes me antsy to get outside. I'm also happy to have discovered that Bushtaka is less expensive for many of the camping supplies than MEC. I got all four items (bag, rest, jacket and soap) for less than the cost of one lightweight bag at MEC. Who knew I could get so excited about camping gear. Who knew.

Blog as Boyfriend

2011-06-04T19:24:00.004-04:00

I've been kind of a poop at blogging these days. Apparently ever since I started seeing my boyfriend, I've had little to blog about, or at least, little motivation to write. Perhaps that's because I now have someone to talk to on a regular basis about my thoughts and what's going on in my life. Does that mean my blog acted as some sort of interim boyfriend? It is true that I use my blog to sort out what I'm thinking. Now I use my real-life boyfriend for that - ahem, I mean, he listens to me when I ramble on about whatever - interesting or not.

Well Blog, it's not you, it's me. I'm sorry my attention is so divided these days. It's just that I've got something (someone!) more valuable to invest my time in now. I still care about you and want to keep you around. You've been a good friend to me, so I'm not going to break up with you entirely. I think it's best if we keep things casual. Love, your writer, Kat.

Reminder

2011-06-02T08:22:00.001-04:00

"If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."

Thanks Paul.

techno breaker

2011-05-25T20:41:00.004-04:00

I broke the screen of my camera yesterday. It was in my coat pocket. I forgot about it when I tossed my coat onto the floor of a canoe. Then I went to use it and found the screen was busted. It still takes pictures, but who knows what I'm actually focused on. Maybe it's fun, like a surprise?

That's the second screen I have broken this year, the first being my laptop. This is the third screen I've busted on a piece of screen-dependent technology in under two years. I broke another camera screen a few years ago while hiking at Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. I dropped the camera (in the case still) on a root. It fell all of one feet, but that one foot was enough to bust it. Guess I'm just a techno klutz.

even out the scales

2011-05-09T18:59:00.002-04:00

I like being busy, but being busy makes me feel a little bit crazy.
I like down time, but having too much makes me feel bored and/or antsy.

Can balance ever be found?

Two Years and Counting

2011-05-07T09:46:00.002-04:00

Last night at exactly 12:00am marked the two year point of my father's death. As we, his family, sat around his hospital bed, holding his hands and witnessing his final breath, all was both incredibly sad and strangely beautiful. Dramatic and intense would be other appropriate acronyms to describe that evening. I'd never seen someone leave their body like that. He went from being dad to a lifeless, empty, yet still-warm vessel. In just one instant, Dad was no longer there. I could see what he once was, but I knew he was gone.

Today and last night, as I reflect on this, on my dad, I feel odd. I'm tearless. I miss him, but it's been two years. Two years has been a long time and a short time. A lot has happened. People die and we have to move on. It's not that I don't care, or that I forget him. I think about him every day still, but with less sadness in my heart. I wonder sometimes if I will see him again, or what he's doing. Overall, I feel he is at peace.

Sometimes I do wish he could see me now, because I think he would be very proud of me. He would want to know all about my job, and he'd brag to his friends about my accomplishments. He'd come to my apartment and bring me a box of food from his house: some cans of tomatoes, maybe a zuccini from his garden, pasta, and most certainly, a bottle of cheap red wine. The last bottle he gave me was FuZion. I drank it nearly a month after his death and savoured every sip. He would meet my boyfriend, too, and probably embarrass me somehow, but they'd get along. Dad would have liked him. I'd take dad out for coffee. He'd do the crossword, but stop to listen to me ramble (or at least pretend he was listening). But, this is all silly talk in some ways, since it can't be. What can be is his memory and so I will cherish it in my heart and bring him to life in conversation.

I miss you, dad. Hope you're doing well.

VOTE Canada, Vote!

2011-05-02T21:24:00.004-04:00

I just can't comprehend why anyone would think that suburban sprawl is a good thing because, and I quote, "it means the economy is good." This kind of thought urks and scares me a little.

Things I like:

2011-04-26T22:09:00.002-04:00

- finding a Crock Pot at the thrift store for $12.
- free t-shirts from clothing swaps and friends with clothing companies
- my new hoodie from CBE
- being able to eat meat, dairy, and drink wine without a second thought
- free wine and meat
- walking and biking around town
- Fleet Foxes (why did it take me so long to give them a listen?)
- going for coffee with friends on my lunch break
- getting free coffee from coworker's son on my lunch break
- moving from phone to real-life relationships
- Peter-Banjo snuggling with me at night time
- hanging out with my nephews and niece
- springtime

...just to name a few. Peace.

Hope Lives

2011-04-20T21:48:00.007-04:00

Easter is coming. I can eat EGGS and CHEESE and MEAT and drink RED WINE very, very soon! I'm just a little bit excited.

What I should be more excited about is what Easter means. Hello redemption!

Re-reading that last statement, I feel slightly self-conscious at my hyper-Christian lingo, but what can I say? That's the language that gives meaning to the mysteries I've chosen to believe.

In a phone conversation this evening, the uncertainty of the future was discussed. We talked about where we see ourselves in ten and twenty years, but the reality is, with the so-called progress of our world, I'm not so sure these goals will be attainable. Houses? Gardens? Kitchens to share food and rooms to provide lodging? Nothing is certain. And that's where I find hope: not in the uncertainty, but in the promise of life offered in the life of Christ.

The problems of the world can be overwhelming, but God was loving enough to enter into the suffering to give us a break. He took those problems upon himself, let the realities of sin overtake him and torture him to death, and then he came back showing us that he - God - is strong enough to overcome the world. Take that, death!

Behold, I make all things new!

Easter reminds me that there is hope. I cannot hold onto the stuff I own, the dreams I have, not even the people I love. But I can hold onto Hope. And thank God hope is not just an idea or some cute phrase on a wall decal. Hope is a Person. Hope lives.

Selah.

Neighbours: The Ongoing Saga

2011-04-18T17:29:00.002-04:00

The people upstairs rarely seize to annoy me. Whether it's them or their friends, it seems there's a weekly occurrence of somebody doing something out of the ordinary, or at minimum, louder than ordinary. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some uber-sensitive, over-reactive type. Well, not all the time. And I don't think I am overreacting when I get frustrated with other people's lifestyles infringing on my living space. Here's a short list of what's been going on:

-loud fighting at midnight and 1:00am, waking me up on weeknights
-waking up at 4:30am, 5am, 5:30 am, etc. to "f--- you"'s and other more colourful language on Saturday and Sunday mornings
-waking up late at night to really loud sex and rocking bed springs (I might have overreacted one time when I threw something at the ceiling)
-waking up in the morning to the smell of pot and cigarettes wafting into my bedroom
-coming home to the smell of pot and cigarettes in the hallway
-spray-paint on the front door and down the side of the house by one of the women's ex-boyfriends (I've been told he was also banging on the front door, swearing and yelling really loudly)
-and finally, today's latest:

At 6:30am this morning, my doorbell rang. I had just gotten up and started boiling water to make coffee. I thought maybe I imagined I heard it, but then it rang again. "Who the heck is at the door this early?" I thought. I peered through the peep hole on my door, but I couldn't see anyone, so I went to the outside door where I saw two older men standing there, open beer cans in hand. I wasn't entirely awake or thinking clearly, because otherwise I would not have opened the door to ask them who they were there for. I could have just spoken loudly through the locked door, but like I said, I had just woken up.

I opened the door a crack and said, "who are you looking for?" with clear annoyance in my tone of voice, especially because one of them was pushing on the door as I tried to hold it just a few inches open. They muttered something about "the guys upstairs" and pushed their way up. "Okay," I said, and quickly went back into my apartment. I locked the door and suddenly realized how unsafe that type of situation could have been.

When my mouth is less frozen (I just got a cavity filled at the dentist), I plan to march on upstairs and let them know how inappropriate that was. I will be cordial, but I am tired of their behaviour. Seriously, I feel like telling them to smarten up, although their lifestyle is none of my business. I don't mind footsteps, hearing their voices, the odd music and television watching, or hearing the cats running back and forth. I do mind feeling unsafe in my own home. That's not right, especially since it's the people they bring into the place that effect my feelings of security.

I live on a quiet street. My neighbours have two primary-aged daughters. There are families up and down the street, babies, elderly, and a bunch of young professional renter-types. All this to say, it feels like a safe place to live. I'd like to keep it that way.

Rant over. Peace.

Sometimes Numb (two years later)

2011-04-02T21:16:00.005-04:00

Two years ago today I listened to a phone message where my dad told me he had cancer in his lungs, liver, spine, and brain. I was numb and overwhelmed. Two years later I feel numb, but in a different way. It's not that I've forgotten dad, but I rarely cry anymore. I think about him often, he was alive in my dream the other day, and I've even written songs about him, but I hardly ever feel - feel sadness, that gut wrenching pain that used to pop up so often, and that sense of missing, of longing. Sometimes he seems much more like an idea than a person who once existed, who just two years ago was able to talk to me on the phone, give me hugs, and tell me he loved me.

Lament

2011-03-28T22:32:00.004-04:00

Fuck.

That word, harsh as it may be, is all I want to say. It is an out, a lament, a cry for mercy. I bet if the Psalmists had such words they would have used them.

How long, oh Lord, how long?

Sometimes I wish I didn't carry the Protestant and professional guilt that comes with using such language. "Protestant", because I was told swearing was bad. Evil people swear and burn in hell, so they said, more or less. "Professional", because teachers aren't supposed to say such things either, let alone in such a public space as the internet. I could say a few words about that, too. Wink wink.

In any case, I won't apologize for my choice of word tonight, because sometimes fuck is the simplest and best lament.

Lord, have mercy.

Enough said.

Dust

2011-03-25T08:10:00.003-04:00

When people start talking about the earthquakes around the world and their magnitude, when I hear the news about war in Libya and other places, when I watch documentaries about water sources that are drying up, when people talk of food shortages, oil demands, forest fires and more, I get completely overwhelmed. Last night I had to ask some friends to stop talking about the recent earthquakes because I couldn't handle it any more. It's beyond our control and I feel so completely helpless.

And then I remember the words of Ash Wednesday, that "we are dust and to dust we shall return." I would be completely hopeless if it wasn't for my faith that one day all of this will be redeemed.

Lent is meaningful.

rambling wo-man

2011-03-22T20:07:00.003-04:00

I've been lacking words for blogging lately, but I'm hoping that beginning to type will spark some thought. I guess a good "I did this and then I did this" update is always worthy, if only to come back here in a year and go, "Oh, right. I was so busy. I must have been very cool and popular." That's also what you, the reader, think anyway. Right?

Last week I had my first ever official March Break as a teacher. Only I didn't get paid. But, I did have fun. I went to Vancouver to visit family and friends. I spent some quality time getting to know my new sister-in-law and some of my aunts. Getting together with the aunts is always eye-opening. I learn, through their many stories of life growing up, why I am the way I am. They said a few times, "I'm a Froese!", referring to certain Froese personality traits. I carry them too. Unfortunately, they're not always positive. And fortunately, I'm not alone in my character! Thank God for grace, though.

I'm rambling and actually have to go... going to check out a table and chairs because soon my roommate is getting married and will take the kitchen table with her. I could eat on the floor, but that's not very ergonomic.

Lenten thoughts

2011-03-11T19:19:00.003-05:00

I ate too much for dinner. Actually, I didn't eat that much, but I got full really quickly, made dessert anyway, and now my stomach feels like it's going to pop. So much for "self-denial". By that, I mean, it's Lent season. I think I'm supposed to feel hungry sometimes to be more aware of my sin and mindful of my need for Christ's redemption. While I've been craving a Hintonburger since I woke on Wednesday morning, I don't think I've been very penitent. Perhaps going vegan just isn't enough. Perhaps Lent is something I'd do better with others.

Clearly, I've been thinking about Lent and how to make it meaningful.
Traditionally, prayer, repentance, alms giving (a.k.a tithing/offering) and self-denial are practiced during Lent. Some people I know were talking about doing something for Lent, rather than giving something up. These things might be walking to work instead of driving, praying for a different person each day, writing emails instead of texting, calling their mom more often, or making coffee at home instead of buying out. Other people are going to live on less for a week, trying to emulate the diet provided by the Foodbank. These practices do involve an element of sacrifice, I suppose. Some might be very hard, too. But is it missing the point? I find giving up Facebook, calling my mom, or even not giving into my occasional meat cravings doesn't make me pray more. I don't feel more aware of my need for God. So what will?

January Wedding: The Visuals

2011-03-07T21:57:00.003-05:00

Here is a link to my brother's wedding website. I am mostly posting this because I am vain and made it into quite a few photos. Actually, that may be a little bit true, but more seriously, there are some great photos. The photographer, Christine Lim, is incredibly talented. She's a pretty cool lady, too. I especially like her because she is shorter than me.

come on out

2011-03-05T22:52:00.003-05:00

March feels like February and February felt like change. I'm ready for the snow to go. It's melting away, but it will be back tomorrow. Rain, snow, rain, sun -- hope! Snow, cold, snow, sun, cold -- disappointment. Life will cycle itself back 'round again, and so I go... go... boots and mitts and toques; skirts and shirts and shorts. Come on, sunshine, come on out!

Blogs Get Reviews?

2011-03-04T21:25:00.003-05:00

I've been reviewed. I am flattered. Check it out, and while you're there, take a look at what Miss Laura has to say. She's a pretty cool lady.

Peace.

Waiting

2011-03-01T21:58:00.007-05:00

I'm not so good at waiting. Neither is my cat. I have a few things I am waiting for. Peter mostly just waits for food. He does not like to wait for his dinner and he's very vocal about it.

My broken laptop situation is one thing I am waiting for. That's good, though, because I spend less time on the devilbook and in other wasteful things as a result. I am also waiting for March Break. This waiting makes the time in between take forever. And then there's that whole Lent situation, which is going to result in a whole lot more waiting. I'm not complaining - don't get me wrong. I'm just thinking a whole lot about waiting since I'm in the midst of and on the brink of a whole lot more waiting.

What will come of this waiting? Well, hopefully a corrected computer with not such a big hole in my wallet. I hope also for a restful and fun break out in Vancouver. As for Lent? Well, we shall see. I will have 40 long days to wait until I can eat animal products and enjoy red wine, unless, that is, I go for Catholic style Lent with Sundays off. There are some perks in the pick-and-choosing of contemporary Protestantism, I suppose.

Waiting. I know it's a good thing. I'm just not so fond of it. Too bad I can't teach Peter how to enjoy waiting, either.

Risk

2011-02-24T23:17:00.008-05:00

When I worked at camp we talked about risk to our campers, because we participated in some high-risk activities. When going up into the trees for high-ropes, going back down to the forest floor via a zipline, or trekking out into the wilderness on rivers and rapids for a 12-day canoe trip, risk is always a factor. The risk, however, is what makes it fun. If we didn't take risks, we wouldn't experience the beauty of the tree tops close-up, or the rush of the wind in our faces, or the adventure of white water soaking our bodies as we whip down the rivers, hardly missing rocks and close-calls with waterfalls. At the end of risk, once survived, even if challenged, beaten and sore, we come out stronger, wiser, and more self-aware. We look back on our experience with the knowledge of what we've overcome. This risk is not imposed on us, but something we choose. In choosing risk, we are choosing to grow. Choosing the unknown, those situations which we cannot always control, can be scary. But fear must be faced to be conquered. A life without risk (if I can rephrase some of Socrates' words), is not worth living.

Everything is Everything

2011-02-23T08:16:00.005-05:00

Radio 2 played this song this morning. I hadn't heard this song in years.

"Adjacent to the king, fear no human being"

"Now hear this mixture
When hip hop meets scripture
Develop a negative into a positive"

Note the lack of T's & A's, drugs and money represented in a hip hop video. Lauryn Hill is great. Too bad we don't hear too much of her these days.

Inheritance

2011-02-21T14:20:00.006-05:00

Your voice plays through the speakers like a ghost
It catches me off guard and I am choked
The words you spoke were really hard to hear
I'd listen but it's been over a year
And I don't want to go back there

How is this inheritance a gift?
How is this inheritance a gift?
You left me with some money, but you're gone
You gave me your canoe but I would rather it be yours and tag along

Now that I am up here in the north
Your memory is stronger than before
I think of all the things you would have said
Of all the mail for me you would have sent
The absence of your mail's just a reminder of the fact that you're not here

How is this inheritance a gift?
How is this inheritance a gift?
You left me with some money, but you're gone
I paid off all my loans, but I would rather be in debt 'cause this feels wrong

I can listen to your music, read your cards
I can look at all your pictures and your art
But someone passes by in a Tilley hat
He wears a denim combo with that silly hat
I want to run and hug him but I can't 'cause it'd be wrong 'cause it's not you

How is this inheritance a gift?
How is this inheritance a gift?
You left me with some money, but you're gone
You gave me your guitar, but I would rather it be yours than sing this song.

Peaceful morning

2011-02-19T10:26:00.002-05:00

Quiet Saturday mornings are my favourite, especially when it's gray outside. I was able to sleep in and wake slowly. Outside the snow is falling lightly. I'm on my second cup of french press coffee, I had cantaloupe and home made pie for breakfast, and I've had time to sit, think, journal and pray in solitude. Sarah's new song compliments my mood (thanks for sharing), and I'm content to keep things slow for the rest of the morning.

Peace is good. Holy, even.

persevere

2011-02-15T18:44:00.006-05:00

Teaching is a good job. Sometimes it is also a hard job. What makes it both good and difficult is that teaching requires one to work directly with people. People, especially teens, are complicated. In my particular job, I get to know my students on a deeper level than most teachers in most schools. It's just the nature of a small space, where having 12-15 students show up in a day is a really good thing.

This week has already brought with it both high highs and low lows, and it's only Tuesday! There are really good things happening, like happy birthdays (with cake!), students getting excited about art class, and some generally positive interaction between the students.

There have also been some tough things, like a student who came to me this morning telling me she's moving back home this weekend. By the end of the day, "moving back home" is happening tomorrow. She just came back to us a few weeks ago and has bonded really well with some of the other students. She comes every day (a big deal at our school!), is a good worker, and has been getting really into the art class. I was and am saddened that out of nowhere, she's headed back to her community in northern Quebec. It's hard for me to understand how a parent can just uproot her family like that. I don't get it. The student seemed pretty calm about the whole ordeal, but if I was 16 and dealing with that, I think I'd be a pretty big mess. In fact, I remember when my own mother forced the sale of our house when she divorced my dad. I was 16 turning 17, in grade 12, and the only house I ever knew was being taken away from me. That sucked. I think this sucks. I get the impression that the student's calm nature indicated she's used to this... stable instability.

Yesterday had a rough point, too. A student managed to sneak in and steal probably $300-$400 worth of bus tickets and passes out of the head teacher's desk. That's a lot of tickets! I am shocked, disappointed, and feel mostly sad for the student who we're 99% sure did the deed. It was a new student. This is in an environment where kids leave ipods and backpacks around the class, and teachers have been able to safely leave our cellphones and purses on our desks. I learned some history about this particular kid and his family and it really breaks my heart.

It's times like this when I feel a little stuck. Not entirely hopeless, just stuck. I suppose that's where prayer comes in: I can't save students. I can try to have a positive influence, but I can't make their decisions for them. And no matter how shitty their upbringing, they're at a place where the knowledge of right and wrong exists in their brains. They make choices; they reap the consequences of those choices. I wish they could see the effects their choices will have.

Back to the good stuff: it's the good stuff that continues to remind me that there is hope, and that it's worth pushing for more good to grow in the school and in the students' lives. Even the roughest of the rough have a chance. And so I keep going.

I should __________

2011-02-11T20:53:00.006-05:00

I had full intentions of getting outside for a run or even a good, long walk tonight. But then I ended up staying late at the school. And then I needed to make dinner and eat said dinner, as well as finish off the last tiny bit of ice cream and eat some carrot cake with cream cheese icing. I justified the extra dessert in the name of getting-some-exercise-later, but by the time I was done eating all that food, I was in the middle of watching this (I highly recommend, by the way, and thanks, Susan, for the mention via FBook). I got quite wrapped up in the sad, nostalgic, and creative storyline, and soon it was a bit late for a little woman like myself to be walking around in the dark by herself. And besides, all the sugar made me tired.

In the middle of all this end-of-the-week unwinding and relaxing, I started to feel a bit anxious and guilty, because I wasn't doing what I should have been doing. This sounds dumb, but I had to stop and actually tell myself (yes I said it out loud) that I was only anxious because I felt like I should be doing something and that I was feeling guilty because I did not do what I was supposed to be doing. But who set those rules? Me. And so who was making me feel bad? Me.

The point of all this rambling, is that I'm starting to realize that I often feel anxious when I don't do things I feel like I should be doing, or fill roles I should be playing - at least, not to the standards I think I should. Why do I have all these standards and ideals? I'm not sure yet. In the meantime, I think it's good - even if it sounds silly - to catch myself when I'm stressing myself out, and tell myself to get over it.

Obviously, exercise would have been fantastic this fine evening. But rest can be equally important. And so, I will continue to relish in my evening at home alone (guilt-free) and perhaps go to bed ridiculously early on a Friday night, not because I should, but just because I can.

Work & Hospitality

2011-02-09T19:58:00.004-05:00

We took the students on a field trip to Ottawa U today. Minwashin Lodge organized an Aboriginal Career Paths day of workshops and booths from various schools and job institutions. Days like today remind me that I get a lot of perks in my job. I can't complain about hanging out with my students listening to people share words of wisdom and advice for their futures, or about watching some kid dancing to the late and great MJ. Gina's Beauty School was there giving out free manicures and hand massages. My nails are now gray. There were free cookies, coffee, pens, cake, tea, juice, and most importantly, free catered lunch by one of the best Aboriginal cooks this city has to offer. He made three sisters style corn soup (homony corn, squash and kidney beans), beef vegetable stew, wild rice and bannock. Did I mention it was free? Free. And the portions weren't cheap.

That is one thing I want to highlight that is so wonderful about traditional Aboriginal values: hospitality. I don't know if they use that word, but it's something I've noticed a few times in my work and related experience with Aboriginal people. When I went to the Wabaseemong School graduation in White Dog this summer, the people served me and my fellow volunteers first. It was our first time in WD, no one knew who we were, and here we were at their grad being served first because we were guests. Well, probably the elders and seniors got served first, but then they served us. That was a free meal, too. The whole community showed up! Today's free lunch was another example of hospitality. I also saw respect: elders and seniors ate first, then women with children, then women, then men.

Do free fitness classes at the Friendship Center count as hospitality? I think so. It's community building, at least.

Unrelated to this discussion of hospitality, I found I hardly noticed I was of a very small minority of non-Natives at the meeting. I didn't think too much of it until I met one of my student's slightly blond cousins (I mean that literally, not in the insulting sort of way. I don't make blond jokes. That would be ironic. Anyway...). When I was introduced to the cousin she said, "Hi, I'm so-and-so and I am Native." Perhaps I was looking at her hair, but I am not sure why she said that. I responded, "I'm Kat and I'm not Native." People laughed, but I suddenly realized my stark white natural blond hair and super pale skin probably made me stand out just a little in that room of darker skinned, black and dark brown haired folk.

Chocolate Milk & Student Comments

2011-02-08T17:54:00.005-05:00

I just drank a small carton of chocolate milk. It tasted so good going down, but I know this is a decision I will regret, like last night's late night Chinese takeout indulgence. People with sensitivities to lactose should not drink cartons of chocolate milk. Just because it is free does not mean it will not cause gas. Just because it is called #1 Chinese Takeout does not mean that hoards of grease will make you feel like number one. More like Number Oiliest. And gassiest, I suppose.

In other news, I was told by three students today that I:

1...am cute like a monkey.
2...am cute like a fairy.
3...have hair like a mermaid.

"If honesty had a colour it would be plaid"

2011-02-06T16:36:00.006-05:00

I did not create that saying, but I heard it recently and had to laugh. What does that even mean?

* * *

Prices listed by the pound are misleading if you are bad at guessing weight. Thus, $1.99/lb is very expensive for cabbage, even if it is small. Also, don't talk on your phone and buy groceries at the same time, or you won't notice that your two very small cabbages actually cost you $10 in the end. Ten dollars for two cabbages! Organic is a luxury I don't believe I deserve. I hope it makes a difference for the planet at least. TEN DOLLARS! I'd return them if it wasn't such a hike to get back there. Next time I will not talk on the phone during my transactions.

* * *

I am teaching Drawing this week. I hope my students actually enjoy what I've got planned. I'm going for part skill-based learning, and part experimental. They'll practice drawing still life and people, to work out skills in line, shape, form, etc. The main thing they'll be marked on is a sketchbook project where I'm posing four assignments in the form of questions, which they must respond to visually. These will be questions like "what is art? How are you feeling today? If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?" I'd like to get them thinking visually, and applying that thought into a visual journal. We'll see how it goes.

* * *

The canal is open in Ottawa. There are lots of people, but if you can manage to skate around them and not trip on all of the bumps, then the skating is good. The canal reminds me that winter and living in Ottawa are good things.

* * *

Tomorrow I will attend my first rebounding class. Rebounding is a workout using little trampolines. The Friendship Centre where I work is offering the classes for $4, so why not. I've already been to Zumba twice, which is hilarious because I'm terrible, but fun anyway. I think the worst part is the Jujitsu people who stick around and watch after their class. I'd feel a whole lot less self-conscious if they'd just leave.

* * *

Can honesty really have a colour? Plaid is not a colour! What colour is self-conscious? Swirls?

worm can

2011-01-31T23:07:00.001-05:00

Perhaps the can of worms is really a can of caterpillars. But will they become moths, or butterflies?

Moths is a funny word. Moths. Moth. Your moth.

Advice du jour pour moi

2011-01-30T22:32:00.002-05:00

Keep your head on your shoulders, your feet on the ground, your eyes in focus, and be honest with yourself. Listen. Really listen. As you made it your new years resolution, be attentive. Pay attention. That is all.

Bon nuit.

Pack Rat

2011-01-29T16:24:00.002-05:00

I'm purging old clothes and stuff from my closet. It's giving me mixed feelings. On the one hand I feel a nice sense of freedom. On the other, I'm annoyed with myself for having a hard time getting rid of stuff, like sweatshirts I used to love but never wear. So many items hold the, "well I might use it someday..." tagline. I have given things away and then later regretted it. But really, what does it matter? It really is just stuff, stuff that can be replaced. Hoarding is a thorn.

Friday Night

2011-01-28T20:38:00.002-05:00

Spending my post-run evening in a coffee shop with an americano and a brownie feels right tonight. Though I came here to get some work done, I doubt I'll get much accomplished. This place is humid and I'm relaxed. The jazz music and decaf beans are putting me to sleep.

On my way here I ran into a friend. She was just on her way home from the hospital where her baby has lived since his premature birth. Her voice quivered a few times, but I sensed she wanted to hold it all together. That's a lot to hold together.

I wish we didn't feel like we have to be together all the time.

This week brought some hopeful news on the job front. It's nothing permanent, but extended. I'll keep it vague for now, since it hasn't been confirmed, but I'll say I was slightly elated when I heard the news.

Some other good work-related news is that I'll be the art teacher for the first week of the semester. I'm excited to be teaching in my subject area, and teaching at all, for that matter. My teaching skills in terms of lesson planning and instruction are likely rusty, since my position requires very little of that. But that's why I came here tonight, to the coffee shop. Perhaps I'll actually get to it.

Peace.

January Wedding Story: A Sister's Perspective

2011-01-26T17:51:00.009-05:00

This past weekend was a whirlwind. Mom and I flew to Vancouver after getting about 4 hours of sleep. We arrived around 2:30pm. Aunt Irene and Uncle Nick brought us home to Burnaby, where we had some family hangouts. By 6:30 we left and Tom dropped me off at my then future sister-in-law's bachelorette. We went from a fancy expensive cheese restaurant to Vancouver's oldest karaoke bar. I faked awake and hyper many times to sing and dance to the likes of Brittany Spears and Spice Girls. Finally, I got to bed by 2:30am. (Please note: Ontario is 3 hours ahead of BC time). I woke with the awareness that I am not as young as I used to be. I also was more aware that I don't handle tired + busy + stress very well.

Saturday got better when I made some decisions, drank some coffee, and ate brunch with a lot of people. I met Lorne Cardinal from Corner Gas, which made me feel pretty special. Brunch turned into skating - indoors, because where would you skate outside in Vancity? - into hot chocolate and treats at Tom & Mandy's church, into a run-through of an Orthodox wedding, and into pizza for rehearsal dinner. A run-on sentence should hopefully emphasize how long the day was. I felt like a noodlehead for most of it. Meeting new people, making small talk, saying what I do over and over again was effortful. I felt not like myself. I imagine the bride and groom were feeling at least double that in overwhelmed/tired/excited. Fortunately, Saturday evening was relaxing for all, spent with much smaller quantities of people.

Sunday was wedding day. After Aunt Irene's delicious pancakes, homemade blueberry sauce, and too much coffee, I got me and my mom ready. I played hair stylist and makeup artist to us both. We spent the earlier part of the afternoon getting lost between Burnaby, North Van and the city, which meant I neglected to help out at all with my dear brother's wedding. I felt pretty bummed about not being there, but they had lots of help and the place looked fantastic. Mostly, I felt relieved that my stressful unknown city driving had come to an end, as well as my colourful language and bad attitude. I also didn't have time to practice my speech, but we made it on time to pick up a belt for Tom at the dollar store. That's right, he forgot his belt and we found one for $1. I doubt anyone has ever paired a Harry Rosen suit with a dollar store belt before. No one was the wiser.

The wedding was wonderful. The Orthodox ceremony was incredibly beautiful. I might have dropped a burning candle on the floor in the middle of it, but thankfully I did not shout profanities, nor did anything or anyone get burnt. Thomas and Amanda Theodorus were prayed for and blessed many times. A beautifully harmonized chorus sang hymns, "Lord have mercy's" and the Lord's Prayer. Many prayers for children were recited. Much scriptures was read. There was no wedding party, but two sponsors: a married couple who's duty is to support and pray for Tom and Amanda. There was no kissing of the bride and no clapping, but there was kissing of the Holy Bible and drinking from the common cup. They walked out of the church married and then we cheered.

The reception was perfectly decorated like a county fair meeting a Wes Anderson film, meeting two graphic designers who know how to collaborate. Add in a mother-of-the-bride florist and tons of helpful friends/family et voila: the best themed reception hall I have ever seen. Mandy and Tom have great taste. They also looked great.

I could ramble on and on, like about the local food caterers, dancing to soul records, the fact that my speech came out all right, and how cute it was to see Tom and Mandy ride across the street in the rain on an orange bike, but I will end for now. This was a very good weekend, much worth the wait, stress, and lack of sleep. Tom and Amanda are safely nestled into Paris maintenant, and the rest of us are back to real life.

Congrats to my brother and my new sister. Here's hoping for some new little family members in the not too distant future!

rent

2011-01-19T00:18:00.002-05:00

I stayed up late tonight with headphones in, so I wouldn't have to listen to the upstairs neighbours going at it again. I've woken up to it before. It really makes me cringe.

I like my apartment, but unfortunately the walls are paper thin. Thank God for headphones. And alarm clocks and coffee, too - otherwise I don't think I'd make it after a few late nights and crappy sleeps (it's not all their fault... but there have a been a few annoying evenings.)

On a more positive note, my landlord is great and has asked them to stop smoking inside. He also let them know they need to be more quiet.

One Week to go!

2011-01-15T13:08:00.006-05:00

I have to write a speech, finish a gift, figure out a hair do (get a hair cut?), and make (or buy) jewelery. Miniscule details compared to all that has and will go into my brother's wedding. I am so excited. You should check out his and his fiance's blog. Tom & Mandy are fantastic.

PS. I thought writing his speech would be easy. Turns out, it's not! I have so much to say and don't know what to say. This is my first wedding speech. Online searches of how to write wedding speeches are lame. Too many formalities and traditions. I just want it to be from my heart. I wish I could draw a picture and that would be my speech.

Procrastination

2011-01-10T23:02:00.002-05:00

I guess I can clean the bathroom tomorrow.

Where does the time go?

"So this is the New Year..."

2011-01-08T10:47:00.005-05:00

I could finish the above Death Cab For Cutie line, but saying, "I don't feel any different" would be a lie. This is not because I had any major transformations on New Years Eve, but because I have been under the weather since January 1st. Fever, chills, sinus pain, cough, leaking faucet of a nose, congestion, sore throat - just to name of few of the symptoms that have been moving their way around my system. I assume once my health is back to normal I will feel like myself again.

Because of being a sicky, I haven't posted my typical reflective/goal setting blog. I've just not felt up to it. Even right now feels forced. But alas, here I am, so here I go:

2010 started out quiet. Occasional teaching shifts were few and far between and I couldn't pay my rent on time for the first time in my life. I was lonely, anxious, somewhat depressed, but mostly held it together in public. I was also humbled, learned to live even more frugally, and realized when it comes to money, I still have a hard time trusting God. Thus, winter 2010 carries a shadow in my memory, however, there are cracks where the light shone through. I worked hard to channel my loneliness and sadness into productive, artful and communal places. I spent a lot of my free time at home painting and teaching myself guitar and baritone ukulele. I channeled my sadness about dad and life into writing songs (I never thought I would write songs!). I took to hour long winter walks in the wealthy neighbourhood near my old house to battle the effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I visited dad's grave an cried often. I applied to tons of LTOs. I stayed involved at church and Bible Study. I volunteered at the Mission a few times. I started working part-time supporting people with developmental disabilities. And finally, I set goals for myself and applied to volunteer with Agidasin Initiatives for the summer. Accepting the position there was a turning point. Somehow having this goal to work towards brightened my mood. I had a new found sense of purpose. I suddenly felt more alive.

This brings me into spring. We hit the one-year mark on Dad's passing. May 7th was a rainy, gloomy day, but my spirits were not. I made crepes for the first time on dad's old cast-iron pan. Mom and Stef came over for brunch. Stef and I played guitar together and sang songs. I even got over my shyness and played some of the songs I'd written. We visited dad's grave where we prayed and reflected. Then we went out for coffee. Hitting a year showed me how far I'd come and how much I'd been through. And things were getting better all around.

Shifts were becoming more bountiful between substitute teaching and my job with Christian Horizons. The weather was getting warmer and so was my mood. New friendships were forming with people at church and elsewhere, and I tried new things like dumpster diving and cycling for very long distances on a vintage cruiser. Cycling with Trusty Rusty was a new found love and helped to shrink the city of Ottawa, as well as my spending on public transit. Finally, Spring landed me an LTO at the Aboriginal high school. Life got busy, but I now had full-time teaching for the first time in my life, for seven and a half weeks until I left for White Dog.

Volunteering and living in White Dog was a lot of things. It was tough, but rewarding, and I learned way more about myself and conditions in Canada than I ever expected. I relished living in Ontario's wilderness with a river for a backyard and trees all around. I hoped my time there made a difference. I came home not sure what to expect for the fall.

Four days into the school year I regained my position at the Aboriginal high school. This was a shock as I was (still) unqualified, and had assumed they would seek out a teacher with the proper subject knowledge. Not only was it wonderful to know I'd have secure, full-time work for 7 months, but the job was just a 7 minute walk from my new apartment! Speaking of the apartment, it's in a way better neighbourhood than the previous place. No smoking tennants (well, not like before with the connected heating vents), a great roommate, and well, the positive points continue. Anxiety was and still is a daily struggle, but this fall I started learning how to cope with it better, thanks to some good friends and lots of prayer. Also, I became treasurer for the board at church, a new challenge, but a good place to invest my time nonetheless.

Christmas time was much more relaxed and exciting and fun than last year. I have more friends in Ottawa now which really helps, and got to see many friends back in Toronto over the holidays. Christmastime also enabled me to reach two of my baking goals: making Grandma's peppermint cookies and her Mock Cherry pie. The pie and crust turned out beautifully. The cookies, well, at least they looked beautiful. My new goal: find baking ammonia (the substitute of baking soda and powder ruined the cookies which are now in the compost. What a waste!).

This now brings me back to where I started: talking about the new year. I don't have a lot of goals for 2011, but one word comes to mind when I think about my hopes and prayers: attentiveness. I want to be more attentive. Perhaps I'll write more about that later, but for now this is really, really long and I've got things to do.

Hope whoever got this far is enjoying a nice, relaxing snowy Saturday like I am. May the Peace of Christ be with you in 2011.

This Year's Favourite

2010-12-27T11:25:00.004-05:00

My sister asked what our favourite Christmas tune is. I said the following:

gluttonmas and other stories

2010-12-25T23:54:00.006-05:00

I feel very full. Overeating is not healthy. I kept telling myself, "it's okay, it's Christmas!" I think I've been telling myself that for two weeks!

* * *

On a positive note, this year was the first I have spent at my sister's. I haven't spent Christmas with her in years, as she is usually in Newfoundland with her husband's family. It was a nice break from our usual tradition. Traditions can be good, but I found last year especially difficult doing the same thing while missing some very important people: dad was gone and Tom chose not to fly home for the holidays.

* * *

When I was on Fakebook earlier today, I had a hard time relating to all the "Merry Christmas"es I was reading. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself, but just realized Christmas didn't feel like Christmas. Really, I'm not sure what Christmas is supposed to feel like. I had a good couple of days enjoying lots of eating, relaxing, and family time. There were lights and presents and Christmas trees and carols playing. We even read the Christmas story. Lots of festivities all around. It was small with just four of us, plus the dog. So what was it? What makes Christmas feel like Christmas? What was missing?

* * *

When my mom and I were all packed up and our goodbyes were said to my sister and her husband, they went back into the house, and we went to the car. Just as I was about the get in, I noticed something moving in the front seat. Upon closer look, it was their dog! He had snuck into the car while we had been packing it, either to say "don't leave" or "I'm coming with you!". Too cute. I'll miss my furry running buddy. Besides sneaking into cars, he was also very good at sneaking all of the baked brie off of the table tonight. He's a dog with sophisticated tastes, I guess.

Mental Illness

2010-12-22T09:42:00.004-05:00

Caught your attention, no? I'm thinking of anxiety namely, and I suppose along with that, depression. These seem to be ever increasing ailments in our modern world, and yet, taboo. Anxiety and depression, both "mental illnesses" according to the professional, psychological world, carry much stigma still, even with the high population of people who experience symptoms. Perhaps it's the word "mental illness" that scares people. I know it bothers me. Perhaps the stigma is my own: something I attach and others have less qualms about it. Regardless, I know I have a hard time talking about it, let alone blogging about it, without fear of how it will cause others to perceive me.

Just to set things straight: I am not depressed. But, the mere fact that I feel the need to "set things straight" makes plain my own issues with the subject. I do, admittedly, struggle with anxiety, which can lead to feelings of depression from time to time. This is nothing I've gone to the doctor for, but having grown up around mental illness, having a sister whose profession is in counseling and social work, and my own educational experience, it's not hard to pinpoint what's become a daily thorn in my side - or thorn in my gut and chest rather, since that's where I feel it the most.

Regarding the stigmas surrounding anxiety and depression, I can only speculate why society has difficulty with the subject. With our highly individualized, competitive, perfection and success oriented culture, it's easy to hypothesize as to why we have trouble talking about personal, deep setting, mental/emotional issues. Who wants to admit they have problems when everyone is supposed to be spot-free? I wonder, too, if making people more aware of anxiety and depression might cause them to have to think about the high-pressure social systems we've become accustomed to, which are likely a major cause of these illnesses in the first place. We want to have our cake and eat it too, even if it means ignoring the mold growing in the centre of it. Mold has spores you know, and spores tend to spread out.

My personal stigmas attached to anxiety and depression are rooted in my own family history. Like I said, I grew up around mental illness. So, when symptoms of stress start to affect my physical, mental and emotional states, I am prone to deny the truth. I don't want to be like that, I'll think. I do still think that.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine told me I was "high strung". This was not meant as an insult, but still, it cut deep into my being. "High strung" told me that my inner anxieties were leaking out. They were no longer just affecting my thoughts, but my actions. I felt like I'd been found out. Growing up, anxiety and depression were the main cause of dysfunction in my family. This dysfunction was a source of much pain and shame, the effects of which I still feel today. So, when someone says I am "high strung", I don't just hear that. I feel one of my biggest fears creeping in on me: that I, myself, may be teetering on the border of mental illness. I fear people will see me as crazy, that I may in fact be a little bit nuts.

In reality, I know I am not "crazy", and for the most part, anxiety does not have control over me. I'm learning to talk myself through things when symptoms arise, and to take care of my body physically as a preventative measure. Fortunately for me, I don't require medication. Frankly, that would be a whole other stigma I don't want to deal with, but what about those who do? Do I think they're crazy? The honest truth? No!

Stigmas. What do we do with them? I wonder if just talking about subjects with stigmas will help to make them less taboo, will help folks who struggle with such issues feel less alone, less crazy, like people actually care - and not in a sympathetic, condescending sort of way, but with true empathy and a desire to make true change. That was a really long sentence. In short: more talk = more awareness = healthier people and a healthier society. I hope even this post helps.

Hello Kitty!

2010-12-22T01:15:00.001-05:00

I really don't understand why people don't like cats.

On Giving and Love

2010-12-19T23:12:00.005-05:00

Why is gift giving and/or receiving sometimes awkward? Oh wait, let me answer that.

a. We have hopes and expectations about how a gift will be received, but really, we have no idea how that person will react. We have no control over the other person's response.
b. People have reacted poorly (ex. without thanks, or with a smirk) to gifts we have given in the past.
c. People feel obligated to make up for the gift, as if there is a debt owed, things are imbalanced, and they need to even out the scales.
d. The gift was unexpected.
e. The gift was too much, really. Really! (ex. diamonds from a coworker)
f. We feel bad for having nothing in return. Maybe this is the same as reason "c".
g. The gift was given for the wrong reason.

If I get a gift for reason "c" it feels ingenuine and I have a hard time receiving it.
I want to stop feeling I owe a gift back, if one is given to me. I think it takes away from the giver's joy. A genuine "thank you" and appreciation should be the proper response. Otherwise I am turned inward.
When I give gifts I don't want to expect anything back (I hope I don't. Usually I don't!)

Why do you give?

* * *

This is the fourth Sunday of Advent. The theme is Love. Perhaps my thoughts on giving are related. "We love because He first loved us..."

God gives us love. This is for free, it is because of his grace and mercy that we can receive it. It is love that spawns grace and mercy. God is love. He gives us himself (In Christ, in the Holy Spirit, in forgiveness and beauty and more). I was going to type that God expects nothing in return, but I'm not sure that's accurate. He does want us to love him back; however, his love is not conditional upon the return of our love. He does and will love us regardless. Jesus was born, no?

In "Follow Me to Freedom", Shane Claibourne and John M. Perkins write that we should feel a "debt of gratitude" to God for all he's done for us. In other words, we should so appreciate God's love that we should want to return that love - to him, to others.

When someone is generous with me, it makes me think twice about my stinginess (not that I change very much... little by little, I guess). I should be more grateful for the love that God gives in Christ. I should live a life of gratitude for this beautiful gift.

What does that look like? I know it's beyond words, thoughts, feelings. How do I live "thank-You"?

Two and Seven

2010-12-15T22:53:00.005-05:00

Ottawa has a great strip up Somerset for pho and other Asian delights. It's our mini version of Chinatown, way smaller than Toronto's, but also way less stinky. There must be at least half a dozen (probably more, actually) restaurants called Pho Bo Ga, or Pho Bo Ga La, or Pho Bo Ga, etc. I am not exaggerating.

For tonight's celebration of yesterday's birthday, I invited some girls to go out to Pho Bo Ga La. Most of us went to the wrong place first. Same sign, not even half a block apart, almost literally right across the street. I don't get it, but I can't complain. Cheap pho! Options! Yum! After pho and spring rolls, even though we were all shivering, we hobbled down the street to My Sweet Tea for bubble tea. I'm still recovering from all of the salt and sugar, but it was worth it. Can you crash from MSG?

My roommate asked me, "how does it feel to be 27?" As with every birthday, the answer is really, no different from the day before. The "but" comes in when I look back over the year and realize I am in a better place than I was last year. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm feeling better about my circumstances. Last year I didn't even attempt to organize anything for my birthday for fear that no one would come. I was just getting to know people, and was feeling quite lonesome. This year I decided to organize a girls' night for my birthday. Not only did a good number of girls come, but they were thoughtful about my special day, too (gifts, cards, etc.). That was more than I expected and quite special. Really, I was just happy that anyone even came out. I felt quite loved tonight - a much needed boost in this bitingly cold season.

I am grateful, so very grateful for the friends that I have all over, and for the friendships that are developing here. I want friends. I need friends. I just hope I can be a good friend in return.

p.s. I have not mentioned even the little mail gifts, treats from friends, the card my students made me, phone calls from family...

Season's everything

2010-12-12T22:14:00.004-05:00

Busy season has begun. Excessive calories from food and drink are being consumed, festive parties are being attended, and I'm way behind on Christmas and December birthday cards as per usual. I really can't complain, though. I am much happier this Christmas than last year. I dreaded the holidays last year. It was the first Christmas without dad, the first Christmas Tom would not be joining us, and I had very few friends in Ottawa. One year later I've attended a few events already and have birthday plans and much more going on. I won't ramble, I'm just happy about the changes. I may throw in a reflective birthday post come Tuesday, but I'll keep it short for now.

Joy is this week's advent theme. 'Tis the season. How can I share joy with others?

snippets (what a stupid word.)

2010-12-06T23:59:00.007-05:00

I just spelled stupid with an "e": stuped.

* * *

The other night I woke up to the neighbours upstairs being in love. That was disturbing. I said that out loud. "That's disturbing," I told Peter, who was sleeping on my legs.

* * *

I met a nice bearded old man at the bus stop tonight. We discussed art and literature and Thunder Bay. He has inspired me to read Thomas Merton.

* * *

I am super grateful for my current job as a teacher. I met some other OT's tonight (occasional teachers) who get very little work. These were all science teachers, too. Perhaps I should not have talked about my struggles as a non-science teacher in a science teaching LTO.

* * *

Two Fridays ago I went to the Running Room and walked out with a good pair of runners. I'd been wearing old ones that I bought four years ago second-hand (gasp). Every time I attempted running in those shoes I got shin splints and my knees hurt, no matter how much stretching or how soft the ground beneath my feet. I can now look forward to my runs since I hurt much less. This definitely helps on establishing some sort of routine, which I must add, has been not too bad since I started two weeks ago.

The hard part now is breathing in the cold. I tried covering my nose and mouth with a bandanna, but I figured I probably looked like I just robbed a bank or something so I removed it upon first sight of another pedestrian. How does one run outdoors at -15?

* * *

Peter is lying on all my receipts and papers piled on my desk. He's purring away, leaning on my computer like a guy might lean on the counter-top at the bar of a bowling alley, hitting on the lady serving booze behind the counter. She has frizzy bleached blond hair in a pile on top of her head and frosty pink lipstick. Her voice sounds like sandpaper and she has a space between her yellowed teeth. The guy wears tight black jeans, greased hair, with a pack of cigarettes tucked under the sleeve of his tight white T. He hopes the 14-year-old girls at the birthday party are checking him out.

* * *

The bowling alley by my place says "fully automatic". Aren't they all? Perhaps in the olden days they had guys at the end of the lanes who replaced all the pins. I bet they had to be real quick. I bet sometimes they got bad bruises, fractures and missing teeth.

* * *

Good night.

Third World Canada

2010-12-02T08:25:00.003-05:00

When I was in White Dog this summer, I saw some pretty unfortunate living situations. I saw poverty that I did not realize existed in Canada. I saw homes that looked like shanty towns.

Should people live in old construction workers' portables? Live with mold, broken up floors, dirty mattresses on the floor? I'm not saying all of WD was like this. I don't want to paint a terrible picture of what is for many wonderful people home. But I also don't want to deny the fact that some people were living in less than suitable housing. I'm not sure if Canadians are aware and if they are, I'm not sure if they know what to do (or maybe they do, but I'd like to hope for the best).

What I saw sometimes seemed like the pictures you see on World Vision of under nourished children and patched up homes. I'm not saying everything was devastated, but it wasn't right. Not in Canada where we're apparently ranked the 3rd best standard of life in the world. What - or who, rather - are we ignoring?

We had the opportunity to take our students to see a film called "Third World Canada" yesterday. Check out the trailer below, or the website for Third World Canada. I'd like to know what people think.

3rd World Canada - 5 min Preview from Andree Cazabon on Vimeo.

Is this news to you? Did you know? How does one respond without being the "Great White Hope" (a.k.a replaying the problems of the past where white people tried to help but really just imposed their ways onto others)?

Hope

2010-11-30T23:35:00.004-05:00

This week's theme for Advent is hope. My friend wrote a great little blurb about hope. You should check it out.

I hope to make Advent meaningful this year, to see the true significance of waiting and expectation in this season. See another great blog on this.

I hope also to make Christ central to all I am and do. I hope for refocusing. I need it.

O come o come Emmanuel
and ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lowly exile here
until the Son of God appears

Rejoice, rejoice Emmanuel
Has come to thee o Israel

That is a beautiful song about hope.

Too Much Gum

2010-11-29T23:07:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I dream I have too much gum in my mouth. It's always pink bubble gum, like Bubbalicious or something. It gets in the way when I try to talk. I'll try to take it out of my mouth but it will just keep on breaking and stretching and there's always more. It gets stuck in my throat, over my tongue and teeth. I don't know if I've ever tried spitting it out, but maybe my subconscious mind will remember that one for next time.

Speaking of subconscious, I'm reading the memoir "Running With Scissors" by Agusten Boroughs. It's fantastic, dark, funny and makes me feel that my family/childhood is a little more normal. It also makes me feel sad that there are such crazy people out there, namely his mother and the psychiatrist she gives Agusten to. I wonder if I would have liked this book as much had I not seen the movie? Regardless, the book has more details and is more true to life, which I think makes for a much better use of my time. Plus I feel smarter when I read books. Most of the time.

Peace.

Coffee in Your Socks and Underwear

2010-11-22T23:05:00.004-05:00

My French Press never keeps coffee as warm as I would like. Thus, the Coffee Press Cozy was birthed. This was made from recycled socks (the ones with holes in the heels) and some little boys underwear-like elastic I found in my nanny's old sewing box.

Rave On

2010-11-21T18:40:00.009-05:00

Last night I went to a rave. That's right, you heard me, a rave - a Christian rave at that. Don't worry, I find it kind of funny, too.

Funny because I am not a raver.
Funny because most of the population was under 19.
Funny because I joined in on the dancing and have sore legs to prove it.

The explanation: someone I know is a DJ. He's part of a team of people who run Christian raves all over. They're 16+ drug, sex & alcohol free parties, meant to celebrate dance, music and worship all in the same space (at least that's my interpretation on the ordeal). So, I was invited to this rave, my friend Katie happened to want to go too, and voila: there I was surrounded by neon laser lights, glowsticks, multi-coloured hair and makeup kids, techno-rave beats and a lot of colourful plastic beads.

When I was a young teenager my brother talked about raves and might have even gone to a few. Since I thought he was super cool I wanted to be cool and go to raves, too. I looked up to older teenagers who wore massive pants (remember Modrobes?!), over-sized beaded necklaces, extra-long wallet chains with various toys attached and sometimes made out of baby-toy chains, not to mention loads of hair colour, makeup, sparkles, and kiddie backpacks. I can even remember when the baby soother style became trendy in grade five. We were ignorant of its connection to heavy drugs.

When I was 13, my best friend went to all-night raves. She called them "parties". I wanted to be in on it all - sans Ectasy mind you - but never got the chance. Now that I'm nearly 27, I can say I lived out my thirteen-year-old dreams, both in how old I was at the time, and how much time has passed since. I think I would have thought it was way cooler if I was younger, but I probably would have felt way more awkward and consumed with looking cool. Awkwardness was still part of my experience, but once I got over my pride and Katie started dancing, I let myself get goofy, too. It's hard not to dance with loud techno-rave beats blasting in your ears.

Sometimes...

2010-11-17T21:38:00.001-05:00

I hold in my pee because I am to lazy to go to the washroom. Apparently I am not the only one.

Crab Apple Kat

2010-11-16T23:38:00.005-05:00

Two of my students called me "crab apple" after asking if I was crabby today. I admitted to being a little crabby. I also said one of the student's behaviour may have added to my crabbiness (he knew he was being difficult). They laughed and said they should buy me an apple and draw a crabby face on it and give it to me for my desk.

I don't know if I should feel bad for being crabby, or feel good that this is the first time it's come up and that they feel comfortable asking me about it. I think I'll take the latter: open lines of communication.

Just in my defense: I wasn't that crabby! Frustrated yes, and perhaps scolded these students more seriously for the first time. I guess I am happy they left in good spirits. It does make me smile to think about their silly crab apple idea.

Kitschy Christmas

2010-11-14T20:23:00.003-05:00

I wish everyone appreciated silly kitschy gifts. Then Christmas "shopping" would be a whole lot easier. I also with the above items were mine. Photo creds to this person.

Anywho I should stop procrastinating. I have things to sew.

An Interview on Freeganism

2010-11-11T18:06:00.005-05:00

I just got back from an interview. It wasn't for a job; it was for freeganism. I was the interviewee being interviewed by two second-year journalism students at Algonquin College.

I found out about the interview through Freecycle, an online free community where people offer and ask for free things, no strings attached. Someone was wanting to interview people involved in freeganism type living. While I do not label myself as a Freegan, I certainly dabble in garbage picking, Freecycling, and I love love love getting things for free, new or used, edible or not, especially if I need it!

Being asked questions about what freeganism means to me and why I do it was good for introspection. It was also a good opportunity to share about my values as a Christian: about being a good steward of the resources God has given me. I could have rambled on and on and on!

The young women interviewing me also wanted pictures, so I offered to get in a dumpster. I didn't get all the way in since I couldn't see too well sans headlamp, but it was fun to play photoshoot anyway.

Too bad I don't have more friends who would DD with me here in Ottawa!

Changing Seasons

2010-10-29T23:35:00.008-04:00

The Parkdale Market is gradually closing as the growing season comes to an end. It feels more sad each time I go, with more and more sections closed up for the winter, and less produce available now that the frost has come.

Yesterday the young woman at the "nice stand" (I call it the "nice" one because for some odd reason most of the other vendors are crusty. Your crusty attitude is a big turn off and does not help sell your wrinkly yellow peppers for $1.50, people. Smiles make sales! Customer service! Geez. Anyway...) So this nice young woman about my age gave me four butternut squashes for free! And she only charged me $5 for 12 tomatoes, 5 red peppers and a jalapeno. Last week I got about 10 potatoes, a massive cauliflower, a basket of carrots and some tomatoes for $6 at this same stand. Maybe all this is uninteresting, but for someone who wants to support local farmers, and knows it's likely going to cost more, this is good news!

I got talking to the woman about her farm. Her parents own it and she hopes to inherit it someday, too. However, she doesn't know if she'll be able to carry it on. "The price of vegetables has not changed with inflation," she told me. This leaves her with a lot of work for next to no money. "But who will grow our food?" I asked. "Oh, Monsanto!" she said with an undertone in her voice that told me this is more than just a sarcastic remark - it's a sad truth that massive corporations are eating up small farmers, leaving many bankrupt and consumers with very little choice on where to shop and what happens to their food from laboratory to dinner plate (yes, I mean laboratory - biotech is a strange and somewhat scary industry). Just watch *Food Inc. and you'll get an idea of what I'm talking about. The woman told me she is passionate about farming, so for now she'll just keep at it. I loved hearing that word: "passionate"! It's so wonderful to meet someone who knows what they love and is going to press on, even in the face of so many challenges.

I love buying from farmers' markets because I feel one - and sometimes many - steps closer to my food. At the same time I get a sense of sadness each time I go. I wish more people in Ottawa took advantage. It's right in our own backyard!

PS. I baked my first apple pie tonight from my Parkdale Market apples. Grown just 30km away in Quebec! Hope it tastes good.

*Food Inc. was once available for viewing on CBC. Might still be. Google it.

feeling

2010-10-26T22:58:00.003-04:00

This past week or so, my path has come across the paths of those who are hurting, whether physically, in dream land, or virtually through the lines of internet communication.

Physically, a lot of my students are hurting. They have tough lives. Homelessness, drug and alcohol addiction, mental illness, depression, anger, foster care, poverty, abuse, teenage pregnancy, single motherhood, breakups, life in shelters, house arrest, trouble with the law - just to name a few issues my students deal with. How does one help someone realize there is hope in life? I am not allowed to share the Good News and hope of faith in Christ with these kids, but that is what they need. The student who told me he doesn't care if he gets jumped or killed, that he's been having suicidal thoughts - what can I say to him? I love these kids so much. I just wish I knew how to help. I wish they would see and know how loved they are, how wonderful, how valuable.

In my dreams, I hurt. I have a lot of dreams filled with scenarios where I can't get my bags packed on time, where my students point out my faults to them as a teacher, where people are waiting for me and I miss my flight. These are dreams of anxiety. I wake up with anxiousness in my guts some days. The other day I dreamed I was on the phone with my dad. He was in the hospital, alive, but dying. Someone said, "Why aren't you with him?" "You're right!" I exclaimed with urgency, "why aren't I with him?" My dad was dying and I wasn't there. I began to cry. I woke up crying.

That same morning I got an email. Pain crossed my path in email message form from someone who had spent many days at the hospital with her husband, to visit and comfort my dying dad. She wrote me "with a heavy heart" to tell me of her husband's passing just two nights prior. A week ago he had fallen off a ladder and hit his head on the cement while doing fall clean up at the church. She told me visiting him daily reminded her of the visits she and him had spent with my father in that same hospital.

Tonight I read online about a betrayal of love. A man who pledged his life to my friend has been unfaithful. He has ripped her heart out, chewed it up, spat it out and stomped on it. My heart hurts for her. I can only imagine; I can't imagine.

My heart hurts tonight. Tonight, I feel.

Teachers Are People, Too

2010-10-22T23:19:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I took a walk with my friend over lunch hour. She works a block away, so sometimes we get out for fresh air and conversation. As we were walking back, I saw two of my students up ahead. One of them yelled, "It's Kat! Hi Kat!" I waved back and kept on in conversation. When I got back to class this student said, "It was weird to see you with a friend." I told him jokingly, "What? Teachers can have friends? What, I have a life?" He laughed. "I thought you were just a robot Kat."

Today I: ______________

2010-10-16T22:28:00.004-04:00

- slept in
- gave away Trusty Rusty to a guy on Freecycle. He promises to fix it up and give it away to a friend who needs to stop taking the bus and start riding a bike
- had the same guy tune up my own bike gears
- biked around and enjoyed gears that actually change
- opened a new bank account
- bought some groceries
- impulse bought a less-expensive version of Bailey's
- went into American Apparel and bought nothing because the most simple and often ugly pieces are a bajillion dollars. Even on sale. I guess fairly made clothing will continue to be bought second-hand.
- returned and re-bought an LED front light for my bike
- bought discounted tomatoes from the Parkdale Market
- sewed some pillow cases for my sister
- made some gifts for friends
- baked bread for communion
- baked cake and made vegetarian cabbage role casserole for tomorrow's church potluck
- cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and the floor
- enjoyed my day alone :)

Single thoughts exposed and lead to gratitude

2010-10-15T23:50:00.006-04:00

Do you ever tire of being single? I do. I expect you don't because you're probably married. Everyone and their dog is married. Actually, that last statement is more true than you may realize: some people have their dogs marry. They even perform ceremonies. I don't think I should get into that rant.

Before I ramble on - about what, I am not exactly sure - I feel it's important to discuss the fact that I feel somewhat ashamed for publicizing my feelings on singlehood. like there's something wrong with me. Perhaps it's an insecurity that I worry people think there's something wrong with me for being single, so I pretend I am always content in my single state. That way, when I do admit to sometimes (often) wishing for an otherwise connected, non-single state, I end up feeling silly and exposed. Perhaps writing about it publicly puts me in a vulnerable state, which I am also insecure about. Like, what if people think I am writing this as some pathetic cry for a boyfriend? Yikes. That is simply too risky, and yet, I continue to write. Someone has to. I don't think you're going to get inside my head and write this for me.

Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away in my writing rather than what I actually mean to discuss. Sometimes (often) I am actually this weird.

Anyway, what's wrong with being single? I want to say "Nothing", but I don't always feel that way. Sometimes I feel great about it. Like I love that I've had the freedom to do things like pack up and move to new cities, to go away to volunteer, that I'm not missing anyone in the process. Yet, in the process there is sometimes a sense of missing someone, someone unknown, without a face, just an idea, an ideal, a far away hope. Well, sometimes this person has a face. Usually of a boy who ended up married or just never showed any interest. Those fleeting crushes that crush the heart. I sound like an emo song or something.

When I was 16 I thought I would be married by the time I was 21. Mind you, I did have a close relationship with a boy at the time. We were really good friends, obviously more than friends to everyone else except ourselves. I thought I would marry him. Now I look back and think, "Man! Thank God I did not get married at 21!" This is not because there is anything wrong with him, but we both had different lives to live. And wow, I've grown up a lot since 16 and 21.

When I was 24 my sister said to me, "You know, I could see you not getting married until you're 27." Absurd! I thought. No way! That would suck, I thought. This year, on December 14th, I will turn 27. When I think back through all I've gone through in three years, I realize that I grew up a lot since then. There have surely been some rough patches when maybe having a guy around could have helped, but at the same time, I would not be who I am today had I not grown through those things on my own. Plus, I've had many wonderful friends help along the way.

You know what, I think I've just taught myself a lesson from my past. Who needs time travel, Erica Strange? All you have to do is think back and process through yourself. Perhaps you don't get that Being Erica reference, or the fact that I totally ripped off NB by referencing the show in my blog. Regardless, I think I've come 'round to a good head space: gratitude and living in the present. Stop wanting what you don't have - or at least, stop spending so much time dreaming about it - and start living with what you've got, in gratitude. Thankfulness really makes my day. Really!

Out With the Old and In With the Old

2010-10-05T07:39:00.003-04:00

Sarah K. has mentioned twice about wanting to see pictures of my new old wheels, so here they are. I'd have liked to put up a picture of the old beside the new old, but it seems I have trashed the only picture ever taken of Trusty Rusty.

Anyway.

This is my vintage road bike. It's much smoother than TR, with decent brakes, and much less rusty. It will be fitted with fenders, a rack, and some sort of back basket or carry-on for groceries, since I can no longer ride with bags at my side. The cruiser was better for that, since I sat more upright. This bike is still taking some getting used to with it's skinnier tires and suicide brakes, but I think we're developing a pretty good relationship. If only the weather wasn't so rainy this fall we'd be out more often.

So there you have it, SK. You also get an unflattering peak into my new apartment.

Music to My Eyes

2010-10-03T09:29:00.001-04:00

Suzie Homemaker

2010-10-01T22:54:00.003-04:00

I don't know how people do it: manage a full-time job, kids, meals from scratch, husband, church, church activities and friends. Oh yes, and housework, gardening, kitty litter... the list could go on.

I'm a single lady. (All the single ladies...). I work a 9-4:30 or 5ish kind of job. I hardly hang out with people because I'm a homebody slash don't really have too many (single a.k.a not busy) friends here in Ottawa. I don't get out much. And yet, I still find it hard to get everything done that I want to do. Maybe I'm an overachiever? Is making pizza crust, soup, and cake from scratch overachieving? Working another job every so often? Keeping up with my half of the chores? Feeding the cat? I don't think so.

All this to say, I think I would make a great housewife. Just kidding. That's totally not what I came here to write about. In fact, I'm not sure this post even has a point. I just needed to waste time between rising dough, laundry and my much-needed shower. I'm most certainly procrastinating. That's my problem, really. The webbernet. And blogging about the mundane.

Peace and crackers, and say happy birthday to my sister tomorrow. She's thirty and two years young.

Ending September with Peter-Banjo

2010-10-01T00:07:00.002-04:00

Peter ate a moth. Then he wanted another one. The black diamonds in the linoleum pattern tricked him for a little while, but then he realized there were none left.

jobs and bikes and popularity

2010-09-28T21:25:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow I have an interview for the job I already have. That is my Facebook status. If I'm as popular as I think I am, you already know that.

*grimace*

I've been prepping for the interview. My roommate tells me not to. I guess it's a bit strange, when I know I've got the job already. I've been working there for two weeks as if I am the real teacher. I know the ins and outs and the goings on. I'm also good at grammar and cliches.

*poo face*

The sun came out as the school day was ending. My classroom is on the third floor, with wall-to-wall windows facing west, overlooking the Hintonburg neighbourhood in Ottawa. It's quite lovely, except sometimes I could use a pair of sunglasses in the classroom.

I was excited to ride my bike again, after a few rainy days. My new vintage road bike and I haven't gotten to know each other well enough. It doesn't even have a name! Good ol' Trusty Rusty has been locked up under the back deck and well neglected, left out to rust some more. TR needs a new home, someone who's willing to give him some TLC. Know anyone in Ottawa who wants a vintage 3-speed Raleigh cruiser?

On Being Grown-Up

2010-09-27T18:32:00.007-04:00

I should not post while drinking red wine on an empty stomach, but it's been too long. My nose is runny, runny, sneezy. Dust is the culprit. Sufjan's new songs are streaming, I'm sitting on the couch by the window, I am content.

This week I have felt both adult and immature. Immature because I have reacted, well, immaturely to disappointment and stress, both at the expense of two family members. Lame, Kat, lame.

I have felt adult because I have spent my week trying to find furniture, and my weekend arranging said furniture. It's still second-hand, yes, but I wouldn't wish for anything more when there is still so much discarded furniture in our landfills.

It feels adult to have couches that look mature. Maybe because they are not quite my style? Red and flowery. But these were free red flowery couches. I paid only for someone to drive them here.

It feels good to have a living room with book shelves and couches and artwork on the walls after weeks of nothing but our bikes, a trunk and an elephant. The elephant is a leather ottoman. No real elephants here. What do you think I am, cruel and disgustingly rich?

So, until we find proper housing for our bicycles, this room will remain somewhat student-like, but it's close enough to comfort. And really, these couches are wonderfully comfy. Maybe not for a tall person to sleep on, but cushy nonetheless.

Should I start writing about how a few years ago I resented the idea that discussing furniture and carpet samples could be an enjoyable and exciting time? I guess I'm growing up. Who knew that at twenty-six, I would still struggle with the idea of being a grown-up. I guess it's because I don't always feel very "adult". The term
adult" still brings with it the attachment of "boring", "mortgage", and "grey". With regards to this post, "boring" does fit, but I am neither the two last. So there.

How mature is that? I blame the wine.

For the record: I'm not actually writing out of a wine induced state. And those blinds you see in my silly photo? Oh how I cannot wait until they go! I'm just waiting for something fashionably free or fashionably frugal - whichever comes first. Until then, the dental office window treatment will remain.

Squirrels and Autism and Joy

2010-09-20T23:03:00.008-04:00

Today I saw some squirrels hugging. Hugging! As I approached on the sidewalk they got embarrassed and took off.

I watched a video about spending time with a young man who has autism. It made me smile, laugh and cry a little, too. (Don't tell anyone it was on MTV - "World of Jenks"). I work part-time with some people who have autism. They are absolutely wonderful, sometimes frustrating, but often make me laugh and smile. My favourite (I know I shouldn't have favourites) but my favourite is S who thinks I'm hilarious when I cross my eyes. He calls it "googly eyes". "How d'you do that?" then he laughs his big, squealy, pubescent sounding laugh.

One day we went for a walk and he told me we would look for a husband for me. He said he would pray for me to find a husband. I told him that would be nice.

Yesterday S and I went for a walk and we saw a man walking his cat. No leash - just the man calling and making low meowing sounds. The cat wanted to do its own thing, but followed for the most part. The man said he does it every day. S didn't seem to think this was so spectacular.

S then started to tell me about his friend from school who was going to emergency for his back. He would be in emergency a long time. I said to S he could pray for his friend, that maybe God would heal him. Right there on the path S stopped, folded his hands, closed his eyes and said, "Dear Jesus, help my friend to get better, please. His back, help him. Thank you Jesus. Amen." So wonderful, I could have cried. I think God smiles extra big for guys like S. I do. And how can I be more joyful than God?

You can't say happy birthday to a dead man

2010-09-18T13:37:00.008-04:00

Today would have been my dad's 65 birthday. He wanted to make it to his 64th last year, but that didn't happen. Thinking about his birthday makes me think of things we would have done to celebrate. It reminds me of Ottawa before I lived here, of his little bungalo, blue carpet, clutter, art, me having coffee on the blue couch by the window, dad in the chair in the corner drinking coffee out if his little blue pottery mug with a lip. He'd be working on the crossword and reading the Ottawa Citizen. There would be piles of papers beside him. He planned to go through them, to save and cut out articles for people. Except usually the piles just continued to sit there. And CBC would be playing on the radio. It's a Saturday, P.S. Probably we'd just had a big breakfast: pancakes or crepes, with fresh fruit, yogurt, cottage cheese, and real maple syrup. Dad was the best at breakfasts and endless coffee days.

This year I realized it's not really dad's 65th birthday. He's not 65 because he died at 63. You don't get older when you die. Your birthday no longer represents growing up and older, but the ending of time, the cap on life.

This day I'm thinking about dad's body in the grave. The body is older, if the body exists anymore. There are likely still clothes and bones. Perhaps his watch is still down there ticking away, but I doubt it. I don't mean to be morbid or gruesome. It's just what I'm thinking about. Dad. Body. Life. Death.

I spent dad's birthday - September 18 - trying to sleep in, but Peter woke me up for his breakfast. I bought a vintage road bike through Craigslist. I started learning some math for my students. I talked to mom, I talked to Stef. I ate a lot of sugar. I worked at CH. I cried for a millisecond. I don't cry often about dad anymore. If I let myself dwell on his non-existence then sure, I feel sad. There's an empty spot in my gut that will never go away. It's the source of some creativity and artistic expression. It's the source of sporadic tears and aches. It's good, because it reminds me that death is bad, that it wasn't meant to be this way...

There is hope. Well, dad, if you're listening, happy birthday. But really, I just want to tell you that you're missed.

My mouth is on fire

2010-09-17T20:36:00.008-04:00

A week has come and gone at the Aboriginal school, week one into about seven months' full-time teaching. I really like my job. Who knew I'd say that in a position where Math, Science and English are the subjects I cover. I hated Math in high school. I failed Grade 11 Math, and only went to 12 General (the equivalent to 11 College these days). Science was hard/boring, and I only took it to Grade 10. Seeing the amount of work my English teacher had was what made me say I would never be a teacher.

Well, here I am, and here I am liking it. One of the things I like best - besides the students - is that it's not a traditional teaching job. By that I mean there's no teacher in front of the classroom, preparing lessons, blabbering on to bored students. My students teach themselves through something called ILCs - Independent Learning Courses. I assist them as they ask. I redirect them to focus when necessary. I do the marking. I provide feedback. Sometimes I have to modify the courses a bit to cater to different learning needs, but mostly we just use the lessons given. Sometimes I get nervous when I don't know how to help my students with their math, but I'm learning. The beauty of ILCs is that I, too, can learn! This weekend my homework is to learn how to calculate compound interest: Lessons 16-20, in Math for Everyday Living.

I will be teaching one course: a 13 week course for students who didn't pass the Literacy Test. Fortunately, the teacher who ran the course last year is going to show me everything she did and knows. I love how teachers are so willing to help one another out. In teachers' college they make you think you have to create everything from scratch. Sure, it's good to know how to do that, and there are certainly times for it, but mostly teachers collaborate and share. Thank God! Otherwise I'd be up to my eyeballs in lesson planning.

What a world of difference from where I was last year: living in Toronto still, unemployed, and unsure as to where I'd end up. I am grateful. So very grateful.

And my mouth is on fire because I made homemade salsa with chili peppers I picked up from the Asian grocery store around the corner. You know, those little guys found as decoration on the tops of Thai food? Well, apparently two is too much for a bowl of salsa. Spicy yes, but delicious too. Peace.

an evening at home

2010-09-16T17:02:00.004-04:00

Rain sounds nice outside my window.
Tea tastes lovely in my cup.
The phone call lets me rest.
I'm content.

what's going on

2010-09-14T19:17:00.003-04:00

I'm trying to relax and enjoy some necessary down time before heading to work tonight. I'm doing the "night sleep" with CH - that means work two hours, sleep six, work two more and done by 8am. I wouldn't mind so much, except I've just started working full-time, and last night's CH shift was just a little stressful. Eggs, toast and tuna made it's way onto the walls, floor and well, it was just a mess. Thankfully nothing was broken and I wasn't present to get the food thrown at me. I suppose in hindsight it could be seen as funny?

On a significantly more positive note related to the above mentioned full-time work: I've gotten the LTO again at the Aboriginal high school! I found out Friday and started Monday. I wasn't even going to apply since I knew they were looking for someone with Math and Science qualifications. But I did anyway and voila, here I am. It feels quite natural to be back and I've had a positive reception from the students. My experiences this summer certainly helped give me more perspective on where some of my students come from. If only it could have helped me with my math and science skillz. And perhaps if I'm spelling skillz like that, then my English/Literacy skills too, since I'll be teaching the Lit. course and covering English, too.

I could go on and on about my job, but I'll keep it short. I'm entirely grateful. This won't be easy but it feels just right. And hey, I happen to live a ten minute walk from the school. And hey, there's a farmer's market open every day in my neighbourhood. And hey, Peter-Banjo is sleeping all snuggled up to my legs right now. And hey, after this weekend I'll be done with this two jobs businass. I'm not quitting CH, but I certainly won't be taking very many shifts.

Enough of the crappy blogging. I'm out. Peace.

Confession

2010-09-12T15:32:00.003-04:00

I have a confession to make: I ate KFC yesterday. The guys I work for got a huge meal of it for dinner yesterday. They offered me some. I was hungry and the greasy, salty popcorn chicken called to me. I only had a few, but still, even one bite is enough to make me feel guilty. Mostly guilty because I broke my personal standards. It would be like me shopping at Walmart. Not that I don't shop at similar places, but hey, you gotta start somewhere, right?

Movie documentaries like "Meet Your Meat" and "Food Inc. really point out the evils of the fast food world. KFC is among the worst for horrendous conditions of factory farmed chicken and mechanically separated chicken (yuck).

I felt gross and over salted even after just a few bites of chicken and a couple of french fries. It was a dose of reminder as to why I don't often eat food like that, if just for the pure grease factor of it all.

New year, new look, new you

2010-09-03T22:34:00.003-04:00

I'm not really new, and it's technically not a new year, but the blog's a lookin' different, no?

* * *

I am typing from my new place at my new-old desk, a retro, mid-century-ish, solid dark wood grandma's spare room kind of piece. Picked it up with a similarly-styled but laminate covered dresser from St. Vincent de Paul the other day. Lucky for me, the charity thrift shop is just a ten minute walk down the road. Luckier for me, it's across from my favourite coffee shop, Bridgehead. Lucky not for the pocket book, however. My roommate told me the furniture was very me. My friend told me the neighbourhood is very me. I'm grateful to be here. Very grateful.

* * *

It is with gratitude that I continue onto other more important thoughts. Gratitude because these thoughts spring from a book I've been reading, one given to me by some good folks who saw the value in passing it along. The book is called Follow me to Freedom: Leading and Following as an Ordinary Radical written by Shane Claiborne and John M. Perkins. Thefollowing excerpt stood out to me:

"As I pondered the problems of oppression, discrimination and poverty, I began to see that Justice is really a stewardship issue. It has to do with how we manage the earth God gave to Adam - and to us - to subdue. It is also an educational issue. We need to acquire the skills , the wherewithal, to use those gifts God has given us to manage the earth in a way that enhances lives and brings about justice. Ultimately, justice is an economic issue, because that is how we implement what we have learned in order to be good stewards of this planet, which includes every human being.

Since we are assigned to care for and be blessed by earth,* injustice is to deprive any other person from open access to this creation; to disallow them from reaching their full potential in life; to subjugate, deprive or exploit them. That's injustice."

*I made that statement bold because those words jumped off the page and told me they were important words. Words to ponder, to sit with, to chew on a while. What does he mean by "open access"? It makes me think of oppressing others, saying I deserve this much (with my arms spread wide for the visual), but you only deserve this much (with my fingers pinched leaving but a millimetre of space. I can have access to clean water, healthy, organic food in abundance, but you can only drink dirty water, cheap, over-processed high-fructose corn syrup based food, if you even have food. I can have nice things. You can have pretend nice things, or nothing at all, and I will pretend not to notice. Limiting others' goods by the masses for the high standards of living for the few. It's evil. Pure evil. And I'm a part of it.

Here's more:

"Why would anyone want slaves? Why would anyone want to work people for less than minimum wage? People who approach business that way want to increase their individual profit at someone else's expense. That is not God's way. That is anti-God. And so justice is fundamentally a stewardship issue. How do I use my gifts and skills to make sure that someone else has a better chance? That's justice. And so we work towards it."

Beautiful.

"Wherever I go, there I am."

2010-08-28T08:23:00.004-04:00

I first heard that phrase from my dad. I'm not sure who came up with it, but it's a good one. Good for me, at least. Here I've been in Ottawa for almost a week now as if this is where I always was. White Dog feels very far away. It is - literally. But I was there less than two weeks ago. For eight weeks. Perhaps that isn't a long time.

Even though I'm simply "here", I am feeling rather antsy these days. Living out of a bag at my mom's is the main cause of that one, I think. And not really doing very much. I've rested. Gone running. Helped mom clean up some junk. Sorted through my own junk (and even threw out old grade-school diaries - gasp! You would too if all you read was "I went to the mall and saw so-and-so and he was so hot. So was his friend. He looked at me and I died."). I haven't been very productive and watched more TV than I'd like to admit, but at least the bandwagon on LTO applications is underway. And and and, I am moving to my new apartment today. I won't get most of my belongings until next week since the people holding them are away, but at least I'll be somewhere where I can walk everywhere, and public transit is way more accessible. The suburbs to the city is always an exodus of relief. Next relieving step: getting my bike in working order.

Back to speaking of LTOs - those short-term teaching assignments, usually covering for a maternity leave - I am interested most in the alternative schools. The Aboriginal high school posting is up again, too. I wasn't going to apply because I thought it would be just for Math, Science and some English. The posting says "English, Math and Literacy". So, why not? Applying never hurts. I am more qualified for this than last time, especially with a summer of literacy tutoring behind me. Admittedly, I get nervous every time I click "apply" (and the entire time I write cover letters). I have to take a deep breath and tell myself not to worry. "Whatever will be will be." More wise words from unknown sources.

Who comes up with these things?

My last night in Wabaseemoong

2010-08-17T01:11:00.002-04:00

Well here's a first, me blogging in retrospective lookingbackness with my packing done. Usually I am typing on a messy floor surrounded by half-packed clothes and junk. It's late and I'm tired, and tomorrow is my last day in White Dog. Where did 7 weeks just go?

I feel many things. Tired. Excited to road trip home with my friend through Ontario's finest wilderness (Kenora through Thunder Bay and on to Sault Saint Marie, then check out the American side of things on through to Toronto, and on to Ottawa after that). Sad to leave the kids behind. Sad to leave my roommates - yes, after weeks of living in close quarters, I will still miss them! We've become a bit like family. Anxious about marketing myself to schools for substitute teaching. Excited for substitute teaching year two. Looking forward to seeing friends and family and church, and to get settled in my new place. Wondering how I'll feel about White Dog and my summer once I'm back home.

That last one's an important one. How will I feel? How have I felt? I haven't been journalling. I should have. I realized the other day that everything here is so normal that once felt so strange. I notice especially when I talk to my friends and family, or anyone really, who's not from here.

Tomorrow we will debrief. This will be important, discussing the summer with the team. I should take notes. For now I should sleep. Lots ahead of me! Cookies and kids and hours in the car.

Goodnight!

Isolation

2010-08-14T00:21:00.002-04:00

I just realized: I don't know what's going on in the world! No TV, no newspapers. I know about the silly things of Facebook. But what about the rest of the world? Wow... will culture shock hit hard when I get home? I just browsed CBC's news site. So many things. Hard things. And here I am. I feel overwhelmed enough about the litres of water wasted by our leaky toilet and drippy tap. Now I see floods and stuff about the oil spill.

***

Thy Kingdom come.

flying by

2010-08-13T09:08:00.001-04:00

I have four days left in White Dog, including today.
Reflective post on the du nord blog soon to come.

What you didn't want to know and how it got me thinking

2010-08-11T22:33:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I had the flu, or something like it. Whatever made me feverish and chilly, and throw up four times, that's what I had. I wondered how one can throw up when there's nothing left to throw up. I now understand where the term "puke green" comes from. Too much information?

Today I have a swollen bottom lip. It hurts real bad. Not sure what that's about. Natural Botox? The good thing is, I can keep my food today.

Being sick let me watch Narnia, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and countless episodes of Degrassi. It kept me in bed away from the kids, but they made me a get-well card. It also made me grateful for my health, something I take for granted all too often.

While lying in my bed, stomach sore, body in a state of resting unrest, I tried to think of what it would be like to feel like that all of the time. I know many experience much worse. I know I have. How do people do it? I wondered. Then my mind trailed off and I probably fell asleep. It's hard to be philosophical and thoughtful on an empty stomach and a fuzzy head.

Now that I'm more alert I want to come back to that thought. I was trying to be okay with being sick because perhaps it could somehow connect me to others who suffer daily. I was hardly suffering. I was cozy, entertained, and well-cared for by my roommates (they made me Chinese congee and picked me up a bottle of ginger ale). Anyway, at least I could imagine for a few moments what it would be like.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. There are five of my roommates wandering around this living room chatting, talking to parents on the phone, and playing zombie computer games. I wish I could have done a better job at connecting my puking to empathy with others, but clearly that's not happening right now. My apologies. And for perhaps grossing you out, my apologies for that as well.

no news is good news?

2010-08-05T22:02:00.003-04:00

The "du nord" blog has been updated today. See side bar for links.

In other news, there's really not that much to report on. Tutoring continues as usual. I'll be back in Southern Ontario by August 20th, and should be back in Ottawa by the 22nd.

Today I made a dragon in the sand? And a salad? Super.

Miigwetch.

The good and

2010-07-28T22:42:00.007-04:00

In three weeks I will be leaving the reserve to come back to southern Ontario. I don't want to leave yet. I do want to see my friends. But I like the pace of life here, the children we read with, that children come to our door just to hang out (well, some come to get freezies and leave), that I open my back door every morning to stare out at mostly untouched nature, not a building in sight on the other side...

All that said, I don't want to idealize or paint paradise of this place. There are good things. There are also tough things. I've been surprised at how ignorant I grew up regarding First Nation people and how they live in Canada. I still only have the first-person perspective of my students at the alternative high school, and now one reserve.

I'm hesitant to write about the problems. It's easy to talk freely about the beauty, the joys, the successes. There are many of those. I'm uneasy about sharing just yet of other parts of res life. I think I could say many Canadians have a vague perception of what it might be like through the news and other media sources. There are many stereotypes portrayed, however, which aren't exactly true or fair.

What I want to emphasize is that seeds of hope are growing. We need to keep praying. As was discussed in our Bible study last week, we also need to start being the answers to our own prayers - by that I mean not just shrugging responsibility off to some Higher Being, but allowing the possibility that this Higher Being might have given us the ability to do something about our prayers ourselves. We say "God, please help that person" and maybe He says back to us, "Why don't you help that person?" This doesn't mean I know how, exactly. Maybe that is the prayer: not "God help them", but "God, how can I help them?"

For tonight, I pray for wisdom, energy and lots more joy. Laughter is always a good start!

Good things

2010-07-22T22:14:00.006-04:00

I've been looking for apartments for months. Not super seriously, but it's been on the mind and tongue. I've looked into many places, spoken to many people, gotten excited, been disappointed, prayed lots.

I wanted to live with a friend, someone who's open and warm and welcoming and easy going. I wanted to live in a clean place with laundry, a well-sized kitchen and space for hosting, that's both bright and cozy. I wanted a bathtub and a yard and space for my bike. I wanted Hintonburg or Chinatown or somewhere like that.

Just last week I got an email from my friend Anna. A spot is opening for September 1st and she offered it to me. I got excited, I prayed, I accepted. While I didn't get the yard or a proper space for my bike (the living room will suffice), I got the neighbourhood, the price and most importantly, the good roommate.

Housing is really important to me. It's having that space to call home, that feels like home. This is something I think all of us need. Since I am away right now, knowing that when I come home to Ottawa I will actually have a home to move into makes coming home that much more homey. Not homey like homey-G, yo. I think you knew that. How many times can I say home in one paragraph? Sentence? Home home home home...

Anyway, all this to say, I am looking forward to the fall. Maybe not being back in the meat market that is supply teaching, but certainly getting into that great neighbourhood, seeing my friends, going back to Ecclesiax and more. Plus my brother is to visit sometime this fall from Vancouver. Good things, good things.

Back on the current homefront that is White Dog, good things came to us this evening in the form of a food box. This was delivered to our door via our director, full of fresh local produce coming no further than 500km at most.

Time to get some sleep. Another good thing: going to bed by 10pm.

The Avett Brothers

2010-07-21T16:45:00.001-04:00

I discovered this band at Winnipeg Folk Fest. Below is the song that had me. It's so cute! (So are they). Teenie bopper moment over.

A day off in Kenora

2010-07-16T13:11:00.004-04:00

I've been neglecting this blog in favour of the other one, and well, laziness. This always happens when I'm away - I don't feel much like blogging. Emailing people feels overwhelming, too. Not to mention phone calls. I miss people, but sometimes it's easier to just not talk.

* * *

I had an anxiety-filled dream last night, that I worked at Canadian Tire. I had to wear a hideous uniform and I was late for my first shift. The dream changed and became less stressful when I found myself sitting at a diner eating with my dad. We enjoyed conversation, then he was taking me to work. I started crying because I knew he was going to be dead soon. I didn't want him to see my tears. I told myself to just enjoy being with him while it lasted. I really miss him lately. Especially when my roommates get mail. He would have sent me at least three pieces of mail by now - even if it was just random articles or mail from my university. It was his way of showing he cared, and that he missed me.

* * *

Today the hydro is out from 9am-5pm in the entire reserve community. This would never happen in a town or city, as far as I'm aware. Mind you, it's not that big a deal. Our director said we could just take the day off. I'm assuming many people will also be in town today. It's just too tempting to want to open the refrigerator, or wish I could boil water for coffee.

I'm sitting here in a cafe in downtown Kenora. I've discovered a better place than Hojos, with a more cozy atmosphere, and non-locked wireless. I have yet to see how their coffee compares but I'm currently wired on a carrot cup-cake. Healthy lunch, Kat.

It's nice to have some alone time. And not to have to go shopping at the devil of department stores with the group: Walmart.

We've been getting along well. Just yesterday we acquired another apartment, so the boys have moved over there. This means there are no longer 6 people in a 2 bedroom town home, no longer four girls in one bedroom. We still eat together, which is nice.

This seems sufficient for now. I could ramble on about the Winnipeg Folk Fest, which was so good, but that's okay. Friends on Facebook can see my pics there. Peace.

I still exist...

2010-07-14T20:37:00.002-04:00

I've just been without consistent internet. I've also been updating on kat du nord.

Peace. Miss you. Miigwetch.

community living

2010-06-28T20:18:00.005-04:00

I'm writing from a sunny but barred bedroom. Barred because there are bars on the windows in this house. Actually they're more like grates.

The front of the house faces the field in front of the school and the main dirt road running east and west. The back of the house faces a river which feeds into the Winnipeg River. It's a wide river, with beautiful rock face and trees. No buildings across the way. Just on the res side of things. It's nice to look out at land untouched.

The house is six of us volunteers. I am the oldest. I am working on my bossiness - as in, trying to stop being so bossy. It's not easy and I am actually quite displeased at how particular I can be. I'd love to say I'm easy going. I wish I was, but my behaviour is proving otherwise. A thing to pray about for sure. There's a certain freedom in acknowledging faults, but also a sense of fear: in being accountable, in doing it again and being noticed.

I believe I will learn a lot this summer, from my work with the kids and community, but also from my living arrangements. Setting up house, shopping on a tight budget, cleaning and cooking meals together is tougher than I expected. Is it because these are mostly people I don't know? Is it because I am older and more "set" in how I like to keep my living space? How I like to eat? Perhaps. This is new, this isn't easy, but this is good. Especially if I ever do have a family of my own one day, it's important to know what's really important.

We get along quite well. We laugh a lot. We sit down to pray each morning. We sit down to dinner each night. Space and alone time is hard to find, but not impossible.

I am thankful for people who teach me.
I am thankful I get to be here this summer to serve and to learn and to live in community. I am thankful for community.

From Tbay with Love

2010-06-20T00:55:00.002-04:00

Thunder Bay has been a wonderful time as always. I came with next-to-no plans and it's been excellent to go with the flow of life here. I've visited with friends, baked twice, shared meals, eaten at Thunder Bay Restaurant, biked around the city, biked around the harbour and Boulevard Lake, eaten a Persian, swam at the Cascades, went for a jog, watched a movie and had a wonderful meal with the Ladies Lunch at Grassroots Church. Tomorrow I'm sharing about Agidasin Initiatives at the church, then the pastor and his wife are driving me to Kenora where orientation will begin. I feel great. I'm tired, but that's only because I should be sleeping. I've got very little idea of what to expect this week and summer, but I know it's all for good. Time to rest these tired eyes.

Good night!

what

2010-06-16T18:53:00.004-04:00

What just happened to seven and a half weeks? I'm at the Ottawa airport waiting for my flight. It's delayed. Does that mean I'll miss my flight to Thunder Bay? Hope not.

Coming back to my blog after so long feels foreign, like I don't know how to write, or what to write. Wait....

ah..

no..

Maybe not. Maybe it's because so much has happened it would be impossible to capture it all in a blog. If I was more vain than this blog I'd write a novel about myself. Me me me. I'm so important.

In summary:
My short-term teaching contract ended today. I'm flying to Thunder Bay to visit friends, then Sunday I'll be in Kenora. Sunday I am sharing at Grassroots Church about Agidasin Initiatives. Have I ever told you how much I don't like public speaking? Well, maybe I do like it, I just get really nervous. I like it if I like what I'm talking about. And I'm in a good mood.

I'm in a strange mood right now.

woo woo. There we go. I blame the americano for this scattered post. I'll miss you Brideghead. Oh yes, and you, too Ottawa.

Peace.

Still moving

2010-06-06T00:57:00.003-04:00

Time is flying by. So much is happening. I can't seem to get caught up on my life. Maybe living out of a bag does that? Working full time, moving, seeing friends, having friends from out of town visit, house sitting, camping for three days with work? Trying to be thoughtful and organized? Working 6 days a week this week? I'd be embarrassed if J&K saw the state of the room I'm in. I'll have it cleaned before they get home tomorrow.

I have things I want to blog about, to process, but not enough time. It's nearly 1am and I've got church tomorrow. I can't believe I'm out of here in 10 days. Somehow I'll get all my marking done, get packed, and get out of here on time. If only I could finish all the little things.

Time for sleeps. I'm enjoying myself, p.s. Just tired. Good, but tired.

Here I go again

2010-05-29T19:05:00.003-04:00

Do I thrive on late nights and early mornings? Do my eyes like carrying around such heavy luggage? My forehead a sea of pimples? My ever increasing wrinkles on the grow?

This is no lament. Just thinking. I'm sitting on my carpet surrounded by half-packed boxes and items strewn across the floor waiting to be organized. The dust in this shag causes my nose to run when I sit here too long. I'd rather play guitar than concentrate on these last bits of packing. All it would take is one hours' dedication. I've been dragging it on all afternoon between phone calls, guitar practice and dinner with my mom.

Tomorrow I move out of the neighbourhood for good. It's about time. In less than three weeks I will be in Thunder Bay. In just more than three I will be in Kenora. In five I'll be in Grassy Narrows. I've just finished week 5 of 7.5 weeks full-time teaching.

I'm tired, but happy. Anxious, yet somehow relaxed within it all. I don't blog enough these days, but perhaps blogging comes out of boredom. I'm busy lately. No time to waste (although I do that often).

I'm feeling a bit disappointed. There's a lovely apartment I want to move into, but I've got no one to move in with me. I guess that's okay. I will wait. Maybe something better will come up? That's hard to believe, but I don't want to rush into anything. Not again. I am sad this one will likely fall through, but I know if it does it just wasn't meant to be. When we pray for God's guidance we need to believe that. And trust in his timing. I think he cares even about these silly things. Not because it matters to him, but because it matters to us. Isn't that what parents do?

I need a tissue for these allergies. Since when do I have allergies? Oh well. No big deal. A runny nose is better than a stuffy nose. Peace.