canadiana 101: the inuksuk

 I'd never heard of an Inuksuk until I moved to Canada.  While we don't have them in the United States, they are literally everywhere in Canada.  Originally found among many of the Arctic cultures (including the Inuit and Inupiat), the symbol has become adopted by Canadian citizens of all varieties.  It was heavily featured in the Vancouver Winter Olympic Games, and is often viewed as the archetypal symbol of Canada. In fact, unlike the maple leaf (that other famous Canadian symbol), Inuksuit can be found across the country, while the maple tree only grows in the east. 


  While I won't go in to the political ramifications of adopting (or, as some would argue, co-opting) a piece of indigenous culture, I do find it interesting how beloved Inuksuit are among Canadians.  You'll find them in all kinds of places, from front yards to the most remote corners of national parks.  You'll spot them for sale in tacky souvenir shops, and being displayed in art galleries as 'high art.'


  For the uninitiated, the Inuksuk is literally a pile of rocks.  Inuksuit (plural form, not a typo) often take the shape of a human figure, with an erect back and outstretched arms.  They may be used for navigational purposes, for spiritual reasons or simply for aesthetic pleasure.  Honestly, I'm not sure what the heck they are traditionally used for, and I'm not sure many other people are, either.  Yet that doesn't stop people from loving, making and selling them.


  It should be pointed out that there is a lot of contention about the use of Inuksuit.  There is good reason for this -- the symbol has been taken completely out of its original cultural and spiritual context, and often gets co-opted in to advertising campaigns. The symbol is splashed across everything from tea towels and beer bottles.  Many Canadians don't even know what the the Inuksuit mean, and the fact that they do have spiritual value to the people of the north.  


  That said, I personally find them very beautiful and a wonderful symbol of the north.  It's always quite startling to come across an Inuksuk.  It brings to minds all kinds of questions -- who built it? When? For what purpose?


  I find it especially charming how tourists treat the inuksuit they come across while visiting national parks and other outdoorsy types of places where the Inuksuit tend to be built in larger numbers.  I have literally seen a pair of Canadian hikers build an Inuksuk, only to have it 'discovered' twenty minutes later by a pair of Europeans who loudly commented on the 'ancient Native artificat' in their midst.

In honor of the beautiful Canadian tradition of the Inuksuk, here are some photographs of various Inuksuit I have captured over the past year or so.  They're probably not ancient artifacts, but they are truly Canadian.

 

2:10am

  like most people, i never really express appreciation for the simple things that enrich my life.  they are small things, simple things, things that are rarely paid attention to.  they are things that are taken for granted and then put aside for later use.  that's the whole problem with modern life, really.  it's the same thing. many of us take the small things for granted, often to the point where it leaks over in to our relationships with people.  we assume that these people will always be there, and that they will always be around to help us through our various trials in life. our often very ridiculous, insignificant trials.

  it's been a difficult season, for many reasons. i'm not in a sour mood -- not truly -- but i cannot lie. things have been tough. i keep thinking how low i feel, and take all the positive things happening in my life for granted.  i push them aside. it'd ridiculous, really. i see it in other people too, so i know it's not just me.  it's a symptom of something larger, perhaps of modern society as a whole. who knows?

but no matter how difficult things get, there are always a number of things that make me truly happy. me, and you, and everyone else. we just need to appreciate them, instead of casting them aside until the moment we need them. as for me, it's those rare and fleeting moments of quiet peace, of a gentle and soundless kind of happiness, that enable me to keep functioning.  it's appreciation that keeps me strong.

 so, as a reminder to myself -- and maybe you too? -- here are some nice and simple things that make me smile. i hope some of these things make you smile, too. and if not, well, please take a moment to think about what small things enrich your life.  it's quite lovely to realize how lucky we all are, even down to the smallest and most seemingly insignificant of ways.

happy

candles.christmas lights. blue glass bottles. kittens. babies with big eyes. a good southern rain storm. old dogs. purple velvet. the smell of pancakes on the griddle. bird songs. freshly fallen snow. embers. your hand in mine. love. hope. confidence. acceptance. the smile of the dalali lama in his photos. having faith that it will all be okay.  hugging a friend after a long time apart. the quiet of 3 in the morning. the shadows of flickering flames on walls. monkey noises.  dolphins. the universe. prairie winds.  the winter moon. the summer sun.

as a side note: i didn't really intend to disregard upper case & lower case letters in this posting.  i actually rather loathe that sort of pretentious letter play that is so common in bad modern prose. it's definitely not my intent here.  any way, i just started writing and ended up not hiting the caps lock key once.  so, here it is.  not intentional, but it's not getting fixed, either. what the hell, i might as well break a few grammatical rules.  i already slaughter them by the bucketful as it is. 

thank you, canada

  I've been living in Canada for over a year now.  I am slowly settling in to this place.  I feel fond of my adopted home.  To be truthful, sometimes there are times that I wish I had been born Canadian; carrying around the social albatross that is an American identity can be very trying. People will often treat me differently, once they realize where I'm from. I love my country, but I'm also frightened for it, and at the directions it is going in.  If I were Canadian, I could let all of that go, and of all of the negativity I experience from non-Americans for being born in the 'Land of the Free'. 

  Canadians are honestly treated a lot better, at least from an international standpoint.

  So yes, I'm claiming Canadian identity for myself. It's not just because of the American issue.  It is also because I genuinely like the place.  It is different from any other place I've ever been, sometimes in subtle and unexpected ways.  I think that's a really beautiful thing, and something that I'm very fortunate to be able to experience.

 It may be temporary, but for the time that I live here, I would like to be able to consider myself as 'Canadian' as any other new immigrant.  I pay taxes, I abide by the laws, I've studied up on the history and social customs.  I have spent significant time here, starting as a young child.  I have family members that live in this country.  I speak the main language.  I share a common continent and cultural bond. So, why not?  

  This doesn't negate my own American identity, or the fact that I also identify with the nation of my father's origin.  When asked, I feel hard pressed to be able to list myself as belonging to any one country.  I have too many connections to too many places.  Is it a sign of modernity when people become multinational entities?


  In the understanding that this does not negate my 'American-ness' or 'European-ness' in any way, I would like to say a big thank you to the nation of Canada for hosting me for the past year.  You've been pretty friendly, and over all, a really positive experience.  I've met some truly kind people here, and learned a lot of important things.  My life has been richer since moving here. I've also learned that I can cope with really damn cold winters.  I think your weather kind of sucks, but then again, everything looks more beautiful in the snow.  So, yeah. Thank you. It's pretty good here.

  Thank you, Canada.

canadian finals rodeo

  The Canadian Finals Rodeo, held in November, is a massive international gathering of cowboys and cowgirls from across North America.  Held over four days, the CFR is one of those classically western events that you can only find in very specific parts of the world.  

  I had a chance to attend both the Canadian Finals Rodeo and the smaller Farmfair that proceeded the main event.  A friend invited me to the fair. She summed it up as "a bunch of cows and the guys who ride 'em."  I've had limited experience with rodeos, but never with one as large, famous or international as the Canadian Finals.  So, I figured, why not? I'm living in Canada, and I might as well soak up the local culture.  Plus, the opportunity to mingle with real cowboys was just to good to pass up. 

  We started off at the Farmfair.  It was a massive event in its own right, with different halls dedicated to everything and anything related to livestock.  Stalls and pens were ordered in precise, tidy rows, with their somewhat messier occupants held within.  There were all kinds of cows (so many breeds!), from fluffy white calves to massive black bulls.  I witnessed the age old ritual of the Cow Shit, which involves a cow uncomfortably shifting around, followed by a lifting of then tail, and then the almost immediate projective and spraying brown liquid.  I saw cute goats with their kids, quite a few beautiful horses, some ducks, chickens (which were absolutely ridiculous in the way that they pranced around their pen),  and even a little clique of pigs.  (Pig herd? Litter? Social unit of swine? Whatever works.  All that matters is how cute the sight of a bunch of pigs is!)


  We also strolled around and checked out the wide assortment of incredibly tacky wares for sale by an eclectic group of vendors.  I saw a lot of really bad art, mostly involving cowboys, mustangs and cow skulls.  You know, the usual kitschy fare that you find on the walls of seedy motels in Arizona.  There were a few questionable objects for sale, such as 'authentic dream catchers' and 'aboriginal style jewelry.'  There were quite a few food vendors, and I came very close to purchasing some Saskatoon berry syrup. To be honest, I kind of wish I had, in hindsight. 

  There was even a guy who was cooking a demo meal for a live audience.  I can't remember what he was selling, but I did sample the salad he created on the spot.  It was quite tasty, although I wasn't sure what the big deal was.  Salad is, after all, not especially difficult to throw together.


  The highlight of my evening was getting an autograph with Terry Grant, 'the Real Mantracker.'  A friend once described him to me as a 'Canadian Sean Connery,' which strangely fits, somehow.  He was formerly affiliated with a popular show here in Canada, Mantracker.  I won't waste time here writing about the show, but click on the link if you want to know more about it.  It's quite entertaining.

  Terry was friendly, charming and very attractive in person.  I think I ended up confessing my undying love for the Mantracker to all my friends for the rest of the night.  It certainly became a popular joke for the evening.


  After the Mantracker/cows/goats/tacky stuff for sale adventure at Farmfair, we headed over to the insanely crowded Canadian Finals Rodeo.  The crowd was massive, energetic and definitely fans of all things Western.  I felt distinctly out of place without a cowboy hat or boots.  Even a plaid shirt would have helped me feel more at home.


  For the rest of the evening, I sipped beers and watched the amazing spectacle that is the great North American rodeo.  Barrel racing (fast!), bronco riding (amazing!), bareback (bold), team and steer roping (skillful!) and bull riding (anticlimactic, since almost no one was able to hang on long enough for a decent ride.)  I loved every second of it.  There was such a charge of energy in the stadium, the lights were bright, the air smelled faintly of sweat and horse flesh, and people were rowdy but respectful.  

  It was especially fun to watch all the different personalities of the animals.  The calves and steer were especially funny; they had very distinct personas.  Some were quite prissy, and would prance about with the conceited grace of an especially leggy catwalk model.  Others were simply dignified, or bored.  A few were mischievous, and seemed to relish in making humans run around after them. 


  As with any new cultural experiences, there were a few unexpected moments during the rodeo.  I generally roll with the punches pretty well, but did find myself taken aback during the opening ceremony for the event.  A rather jarring scene unfolded, in which giant one crosses slowly descended from the rafters during the patriotic strains of 'O, Canada.' While the overhead lights dimmed in the auditorium, the crosses were lit up with the furious white glow of spotlights.  I felt like I was staring at the westernized version of a Liberace set.  For a moment I thought I had accidentally fallen into some parallel universe featuring an Evangelical mega church. It took me quite a while to realize that this rousing display was, in fact, in honor of a very important holiday in Canada.  Remembrance Day is a sacred tradition here, and treated with the utmost respect.  In the context of the holiday, the crosses were symbolic of the grave markers over the bodies of buried veterans.  A lovely gesture, but rather jarring when it has to be explained to you. 

 


  For anyone interested in going, you can sometimes get discount tickets.  I'd definitely suggest the Farmfair, as well.  Who can resist the sight of fluffy cows and little lambs with big brown eyes?  You might even get to pet some, if you're lucky.




 

happy canaversary to me!

HAPPY CANAVERSARY!

I moved to Canada on August 24, 2010.  As hard as it is to believe, it is now one year later.  I've officially lived in Canada for an entire 365 days!

I want to say thank you to my adopted home. I am happy to live here.  While I have some things I still don't understand (CFL ? Why do you guys have ketchup flavored chips? How do I learn to keep track of all your political parties?), there are a ton of things that I have learned to love since moving up north (Don Cherry! Grasshopper Wheat Ale! Elk sausage at the farmer's market!). 

Thanks, Canada. 

on the topic of unexpected and small miracles ...

We've had quite a stormy and wet summer here in the north, and the weather has mostly been a mixture of damp, gloomy and frustrating.  However, every now and then something beautiful comes along after a particularly vicious rain storm and blossoms across the sky in a technicolor riot.  I only wish my photographs could somehow do this sight justice.

Below is my collection of Summer Rainbows.  My rainbow count so far has been five in a span of about six weeks.  Maybe Someone Above is trying to tell me something? Here's hoping for more rainbows.

Double Rainbow

Different day, same location

Massive rainbow

Rainbow detail (isn't it beautiful?)

Yet another double rainbow!

I must live in Rainbow Alley -- I have the perfect place to view rainbows from my 20th floor balcony



Last but not least, a rainbow from the Rocky Mountains

Magical hot air balloons, taken from my balcony.  Little miracles like these are what keep me going right now.

america bashing

I was speaking to a (Canadian) professor of mine the other day about stereotypes and nationalities, and she blatantly let me know that most Americans made her "cringe" and that she felt an intense disgust towards them.  There was no specific reason why, just that their 'American-ness' offended her on some deep level. 

 I found this a rather odd admission to make, considering the woman teaches cultural anthropology and is responsible for instructing students from all over the world.  Apparently key anthropological ideas about cultural relativism and trans-nationalism have somehow passed her by. Then again, this is the same professor who has lectured undergraduates on the "stupidity of American culture" in her classroom.  Yes, a little bizarre for a professor who is responsible for teaching about cultural difference.  Then again, it's not terribly shocking.  Her attitude is quite common in Canada, and it's one that has become a central point in Canadian patriotism.

While I am very fond of Canada, I am a little exhausted by the concept of Canadian identity.  I hear time and time again how Canada is an international peace keeper, a welcoming and egalitarian society full of outdoorsy folk with a penchant for poutine and hockey.  Yes, it's mostly true -- Canadians are generally very polite, friendly and great to be around.  I've eaten a lot of  poutine and watched a little bit of hockey since I've moved here.  Canada tends to be socially more liberal, and certainly produces better beer, which seem to go hand in hand.

  Am I playing on popular stereotypes? Yes, and obviously so.  Yet many Canadians seem to readily embrace these very things. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, and in fact can be quite charming.  I totally love you Canada, really and truly. 

 However -- and this is a major point -- I find that the vast majority of Canadian identity seems to be about exclusion.  That is, Canadians are quick to point out that they are not American.  America is seen as that pesky and bossy neighbor to the south, full of fat rednecks who love their guns and Bibles.  Canadian identity is all about not being like those uncivilized people below their pristine borders.  Canadians have great national health care (unlike Americans), are skinny (unlike Americans), civilized (unlike Americans), well mannered (unlike Americans) and they never, ever eat at McDonald's (unlike Americans). Oh yeah, and Europeans don't hate Canadians (unlike Americans). While the reality of the situation is a lot different -- there are lots of fat people and Bible thumpers in Canada, and yeah, quite a few Europeans living in the USA, including my dad-- it doesn't really seem to matter.  The national discourse surrounding Canadian identity reminds me of the language used by colonial-era English when they dismissed their Irish and Scottish neighbors as the filthy and unwashed masses.

  This attitude is readily apparent in the media.  I find subtly anti-American headlines on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's television programming and website all the time.  Articles abound on all sorts of negative American news stories.  Anything positive about the US gets pushed aside, but anything sensational manages to make it to the front page. Headlines are carefully worded to create as much furor and controversy as possible. It's especially apparent on the CBC.ca website, which encourages readers to voice their opinions -- which are almost always rabidly one sided and full of vitriol towards "those arrogant Yanks."  (By the way, has anyone considered that southern Americans tend to loathe being called Yankees? But I digress.)

  In the past week, the CBC has run extensive coverage on 'Carmeggedon' in Los Angeles, otherwise known as the shutting down of the 405 Freeway, a major thoroughfare in the City of Angels.  Various articles have elaborated on the "looming shutdown" of the highway and American fears of "epic traffic jams."  The subtext of the news coverage has been that Americans "can get out" of their "cars once in a while and survive."  (All quoted from CBC news articles from July 15 and 17, 2011).

  Perhaps not the most vitriolic news coverage, but then again, incredibly one-sided and hardly news worthy for most Canadians.  While the piece did not serve as hard cutting coverage, it somehow made the front page. Additionally, it managed to feed into the on-going stereotyping of America in the Canadian press. Americans were depicted in a farcical light, as idiots unable to live without their cars.  Many people who commented on the articles were aghast, wondering why "Americans are such idiots?!"  One commentor fumed over the "greed of the American people and their giant cars." 

  Of course, what the article didn't explain is that public transportation in Los Angeles is underfunded and fairly useless.  LA is one of those cities that you really need to own a car in, because otherwise you're going to spend hours going from point A to point B.  Good luck catching a bus and getting to work on time.  The 405 is an important road and a major transportation corridor for the LA metro area. 

  By leaving out this information, the CBC catered to the image of Americans as fat, lazy slobs who are addicted to their cars.  A sort of patriotic Canadian chest thumping became very apparent from the reactions to the articles, which amounted to 'we are Canadian and we don't rely on cars like Americans!' (Totally untrue, but anyway.)

  During the July 4th weekend, the CBC ran extensive coverage on American stories that were anything but positive.  Most had to do with re-hashing security fears surrounding 9/11.  I couldn't really make the connection between the 9/11 stories and the 4th of July, but apparently the CBC was trying to make one. Additionally, a lot of the news coverage played up on the 'differences' between America and Canada, which seemed to amount to a lot of hype over Canadians burning down the White House way back in 1814.

  I'm not alone in observing this.  It's been noted by one diplomat that "the degree of comfort with which Canadian broadcast entities, including those financed by Canadian tax dollars, twist current events to feed longstanding negative images of the U.S. - and the extent to which the Canadian public seems willing to indulge in the feast - is noteworthy as an indication of the kind of insidious negative popular stereotyping ... in Canada." (Toronto Sun, December 12, 2010).  It's rather sad to me that so much of Canadian identity has become one of exclusion and xenophobic posturing.

  Of course, not all Canadians buy into the hype.   I've met plenty of Canadians who have expressed interest in my American roots. A lot of people have been curious about life in the States.  Many more have been simply disinterested, and not entirely sure where the hell New York City or Washington D.C. are. 

  There are many intelligent people here who are able to realize that there isn't a whole heck of a lot of difference between Canada or the United States, despite what the rest of the world would like to think. After all, Canada and the United States are in bed with each other politically.  We fight the same wars, are part of NATO, and uphold the same capitalistic, corporate mentality.  Admittedly, the USA has a horrible habit of policing the world.  I can't deny that.  But all that policing comes with a heck of a lot of (quiet) Canadian support.  As for the fears about Americanization ... I can understand it, but it doesn't really explain why many Canadians readily accept American stores into their country.  Perhaps it's because both Canadians and Americans seem to like large quantities of low quality and cheap crap.  (Both countries also seem to share a fondness for bad food at inexpensive prices.)

  Despite these similarities, I've also encountered people who've been downright rude and hostile to me once they found out I was American.  During one such encounter, I was on the local train, riding from the university to downtown.  I struck up a conversation with a young man, who started off as polite and friendly. However, once he asked me where I was from, he shuddered and replied, "I am so sorry for you." 

  When I first began teaching here, many of my Canadian students tried to shame me about my nationality.  They would demand that I recite all of the Canadian provinces, and implied that no American could possibly know these things.  They asked me to account for the Americanization of Canada, and why Bush was elected. (Um, since when am I responsible for the Republican Party?)

 Funnily enough, a lot of these same students had family in the Canadian military (which was, until very recently, in Afghanistan) and brought in lunches from Subway and McDonald's.  When I finally turned the tables on them by asking them to name ten states (the same number as the provinces), most of the students couldn't.  We had a big laugh about it and after that the students backed off, but it was a rough start to my first semester in Canada.

  More than anything, I have realized that there isn't that much of a difference between Canadians and Americans.  We all belong to the same continent, and the concept of our respective nations are completely artificial and man made.  Neither country has been around very long, and the populations of both nations are largely made up of immigrants from other parts of the world.  We look the same, tend to sound the same, and generally have the same cultural values, despite what everyone else seems to think.  Heck, Canadians can't even tell I'm American.  If they can't tell a difference, then why is it suddenly a big deal when they realize where I'm from? Nothing magically changes at the border.  I'm not a lesser human being because I have a social security number.

  So, I guess my point is to question why one country feels compelled to define itself by what it is not.  I love Canada dearly, and I happily live here.  I pay my Canadian taxes and follow Canadian laws.  I respect the history of Canada, and enjoy the usually charming Canadian sense of national pride.

   I want to feel welcome in my adopted country.  I came here because I have always liked Canada.  This beautiful country is known for accepting all people, races, religions and nationalities -- except me.  I'm continually reminded that I am not truly at home here, and that a lot of people are willing to dislike me because of where I was born.  Instead of judging me as human being, they judge the color of my passport.  (Passport racism, perhaps?)

  I'm sure this post will offend some people, but I'm standing by it.  I do not deny that similar issues exist for immigrants in America.  The USA has a lot of problems, and I'll be the first to admit that. However, this is a blog about my experiences abroad.  I know that this is an issue for a lot of people, and that I'm not alone in feeling this way.  I just hope that people will learn to not judge someone because of where they happened to be born.

  Oh, and for the record: I'm a dual citizen.  If I suddenly flash my other passport around, does that make me a superior person?

  One love people, because we all belong to the human race.  Nationality is a concept that evolves continually.  Don't trip yourself up on it.

alone

  As I'm writing this, I feel like my heart has been pulled out of my chest. It's as if I can see it, lying on the floor, gasping for air like a fish out of water.  My heart, my soul, my entire being has been crushed. 

  My partner of ten years has left me.  There aren't words that are adequate to express the level of sorrow and loss that I am feeling.  I just know that my entire world has fallen apart.  Everything I own, everyone I know, every memory I have  are all linked to one person.  And now that person is gone, and I am left holding on to the scraps of my entire adult life. 

  I am Alice, and I just fell down the rabbit hole.  My life is upside down.  I think about the days, weeks and months ahead of me, and I can't even breathe.  All of the pain in my life has been, up until this moment, inconsequential. 

  Friends have told me to take it "one day at a time."  But you know what? That is too much.  I can't even fathom hour by hour, let alone day by day.  I am plodding along, watching each minute inch past and hoping that five minutes from now will somehow hurt less than it does right now. 

  I thought soul mates were forever.  I can't fathom not having this man in my life.  Even apart, he is my best friend, my brother, my lover, my dearest and most beloved of all companions in the universe.  I could never talk to him again, and it wouldn't change a thing.  He is truly a part of who I am.

  I know the universe is trying to teach me an important lesson, and I find myself struggling to accept that.  Perhaps I need to learn to accept suffering, or that nothing is permanent.  I don't even know at this point.  But whatever lesson it is, I just have to ask: damn, why does it have to be so painful? 

  

just in time for the 4th of July ...

 
I normally am not a chest thumping, super patriotic sort of person.  Nor do I generally like the writing of Ernest Hemingway.  However, I found (and liked) a poem which combines both of these things.

Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americanos, and a belated happy Canada Day to my Canucks.   I won't get to celebrate 4th of July this year, but I enjoyed the 1st of July thoroughly.  Canadians know how to party!

 I Like Americans

 Ernest Hemingway

(originally credited as 'A Foreigner' and written while he was abroad in Canada ... sort of like me.)

 I like Americans.

They are so unlike Canadians.

They do not take their policemen seriously.

They come to Montreal to drink.

Not to criticize.

They claim they won the war.

But they know at heart that they didn't.

They have such respect for Englishmen.

They like to live abroad.

They do not brag about how they take baths.

But they take them.

Their teeth are so good.

And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.

I wish they didn't brag about it.

They have the second best navy in the world.

But they never mention it.

They would like to have Henry Ford for president.

But they will not elect him.

They saw through Bill Bryan.

They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.

Their men have such funny hair cuts.

They are hard to suck in on Europe.

They have been there once.

They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.

And Jiggs.

They do not hang lady murderers.

They put them in vaudeville.

They read the Saturday Evening Post

And believe in Santa Claus.

When they make money

They make a lot of money.

They are fine people.

  Happy Holidays to my friends north and south of the border, and love to all. 

untitled

 
There’s a point where you grow up and realize that the things you envisioned as a child will never be, and that the things you never thought true will come to pass.  You get fat, you lose friends, you realize your parents aren't infallible, and, perhaps worst of all, you accept that your plans of becoming a ballerina-archaeologist-Olympic gold medalist are simply not going to come true.  You change.  You accept certain things.  You mourn and move on.


But most of all, you grow apart.


You grow apart from your childhood dreams.  You grow apart from old friends.  You grow apart from an unshakable optimism in the world.  You grow apart from your younger self. 


You become like a snake, shedding your infant skin and leaving it behind on some forlorn and dusty rock.  If you look carefully, you can watch your younger self turn to dust.  It's as if you lose your childhood in layers, piece by painful piece. Years of your life crumble away, falling to the ground in piles of ash.  It's all so quick, so messy, so impossible to imagine when you're six or seven years old. And then one day, you're in your twenties and realize ... where did it all go?


Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.   Layers of self, blown away in an instant.


                                                * * * *


Adulthood is like a dance.  A dance with uncertainty, a duet of utter joy and complete despair.  Beautiful and ugly, a mantle of maturity that is placed upon your shoulders.  Some people wear their adulthood like royalty.  Others wear it like paupers.  Me? I just feel like I'm wearing a wool sweater, itchy and uncomfortable.  Why can't I stay a child forever, laughing in the sunlight and dancing in moonbeams?


I never wanted to grow up.  And yet, here I am, twenty-something years later, awkward in my new found adulthood.  Unwilling and unable to give up that elemental piece of myself, that tiny three year old that exists inside of me and tells me that unicorns exist, love is real and that it is still okay to imagine life as a ballerina-archaeologist-Olympic gold medalist.


I think to myself how sad it is that, at some unspoken point in time, we are no longer allowed to dream.  Why is it that our hopes and aspirations have an expiration date?  Why is it acceptable for a little girl to hug trees, but unacceptable for a grown woman to do the same? 


I wear the mantle of adulthood as best as I can.  However, I look forward to the day when I can cast it off and say to a child of my own to never give in, to never allow anyone to take your dreams from you, and to never, ever stop believing in unicorns.

Rest in Peace, Grammy. Thank you for letting me believe in my dreams.

image courtesy of Nasa

Thanks to a nifty (and new) blogger.com feature, I can now see basic 'stats' about my blog.   I'm incredibly excited to report that, despite this being a blog designed for a few family members and two friends, I've had quite a few international visitors! Thanks to everyone in the United States, Canada, Japan, India, Russia, Germany, Indonesia, Austria, the UK, Netherlands, Belgium and Iran who have read my blog! Wow. I feel so inspired to actually update this thing on a more frequent basis. 

Also, apparently my entry from 2007 on the Miss Universe pageant has gained the most page views (ahhh, why?!). 

The most common phrases that people type in to search engines to find my blog have to do with Mexican candy.  Who knew?

I'm really touched that so many people from around the globe have taken the time to scope out my blog.  Even if they only stayed for a single entry, I appreciate your time and value your feedback! Keep on keepin' on.



i like ... yoshitaka amano

  I haven't done an 'I like ...' post in awhile.  However, there are a lot of things I like, and the Japanese artist Yoshitaka Amano is one of them.  You might recognize his work from the Vampire D novels.

  (And yes, I seem rather obsessed with red, yellow and black right now.)
 

i want to start a hugging revolution in canada

I like to hug.  People, animals, trees, you name it and I'll probably give it a squeeze -- well, as long as it's not poisonous, dangerous or a person who's a complete stranger.  If you've ever met me, we've probably hugged.  I'm a big fan of platonic hugging, and few things in life make me happier.

However, I've come to the realization that Canadians do not hug.  I mean, they do occasionally, but you will be hard pressed to find a Canadian willing to hug someone they aren't dating, sleeping with or related to.  In the eight months since I've been here, I have hugged exactly two people.  One wasn't even born in the country, although I suppose she counts since she's a permanent resident.  The other person was definitely Canadian, although the hug was completely awkward and insincere.  I think I caught the poor girl by surprise. 

 I've mentioned this point to quite a few Canadians.  I can't mention how many times I've asked, "Why don't you guys like to hug? What is the deal?"  People answer me with baffled expressions and a half-hearted reply along the lines of "But we do hug ... sometimes."  (Uh yeah, only if you're romantically involved, related, or drunk.) 

 Apparently I'm not the only person to be confused by the Canuck habit of no touching.  After a final exam, a foreign born student of mine ran up to a Canadian and gave the girl a hug.  The Canadian froze up, looking completely shocked.  She then grimaced, drew in a shuddering breath, and stepped out the hug.  After the non-Canadian ran off, the girl turned to me and muttered, "Canadians don't do that." 

 I have yet to find out why there's an unspoken no hugging rule in Canada.  In fact, body space seems to generally be more of an issue here than in the States.  People stand as far apart as possible, and rarely make any sort of physical contact.  It reminds me of little boys and girls on the playground, afraid of touching each other and getting Cooties.  Maybe adult Canadians are secret carriers of that dreaded childhood disease? Who knows.

 At any rate, I want to start a hugging revolution here.  There's a wonderful YouTube video ('Free Hugs Campaign') in which a young man offers up free hugs to strangers.  The video has had over 65 million hits and spawned a Free Hug Movement.  It's pretty radical, in my opinion.  Not surprisingly, a lot of the Free Hugs videos take place in fairly contact friendly countries, like Spain, Australia and the USA.  Canada does have some, but not nearly as many.  Part of me is tempted to start a Free Hugs campaign up in the frozen north.  The weather might be cold, but I don't think people need to be.

 (Oh, and before anyone jumps on my back and comments how warm and friendly Canadians are ... you're welcome to give me a hug and change my mind!)

Free Hug Campaign

 

my first aurora borealis encounter!

photo courtesy of http://www.geology.com/



  Since I moved up north, I have been dreaming of witnessing the aurora borealis, otherwise known as the northern lights.  I had heard many stories growing up as a child about the beautiful colors that danced in the evening sky.  Unfortunately, having mostly grown up in the southern regions of the United States, I never had any experiences with them firsthand. 

  When I moved up north, I immediately signed up for an e-mail alert service that promised to send out messages when there was a good chance for aurora viewings.  While I did get a few alerts, they were generally on cloudy evenings or at times when it was impossible to get out of the city and away from all the light pollution.  I had a close call on my birthday, when apparently the northern lights were out in full force ... at the exact same time I was underground on the metro. 

  So, you can imagine my excitement when a friend called me out of the blue and offered to take me on an aurora hunting expedition.  The weather was looking promising, with clear skies for the first time in weeks.  It was fairly warm out (by northern Canadian standards) and, even better, I had gotten an aurora alert earlier in the evening that suggested there was a 'strong possibility' of seeing a light show.

  So, at 11:30pm, I jumped in to my friend's car and we took off for a little jaunt out of the city and in to the snow covered prairie. 

  It was about half an hour out of town when we first spotted the signs of auroral activity.  It didn't seem like much at first, just a green blob hovering above the horizon.  But as we watched, the colored shape slowly expanded and began to swirl and arc.  Within minutes, half of the sky was painted over in a vivid teal, pulsating and flickering in the most incredible shapes. 

  We pulled over on the side of the highway, a safe distance from the trucks barrelling alongside us with their cargoes of oil.  I quickly bundled up in to my jacket and jumped out of the car.  For the next fifteen minutes, I stood with my head tilted upwards, craning my neck towards the shimmering sky.  It was absolutely incredible.  The whorls of color reminded me of Van Gough's painting, 'Starry Night.'

 As the show began to fade, we decided to keep driving north in the hopes of catching more of the northern lights.  It was a wise decision, because almost as soon as we started up the car, the auroras began to reappear in patches across the sky.  It was utterly enchanting.

  While we were driving, I noticed a very strange arc that was running across the sky, a grayish-green shape that reminded me of a monotone rainbow.  At first, we assumed it was a contrail from a plane, but as the shape slowly expanded, we realized it was part of the aurora borealis.  It was an eerie sight, like some sort apocalyptic portent. 

  As the show began to get stronger, we decided to pull over again.  A dirt road in the middle of a very dark field seemed like an ideal spot. 

  I jumped out of the car -- and was amazed.  The aurora borealis were directly over our heads!! The rainbow-like shape that I had witnessed from the car was now snaking above our heads, weaving in fantastical shapes.  The streak of light was moving incredibly quickly, billowing around and taking on a distinctly gray color.  It was fantastic, beautiful and frightening all at once.

  While I was looking directly up, I kept noticing strange flashes of color out of the corner of my eye.  I thought my mind was playing tricks on me until my friend told me to look carefully at the sky over my right shoulder.  What I saw was literally unlike anything I'd ever seen in my life. It was like I was at the bottom of a vast pool, with waves of color streaking over the surface of the water.  The light was moving at incredible speeds, sliding across the sky in curtains of bluish-green light.  Astounding.

  It was a truly Canadian moment when a chorus of coyotes began yipping and howling in the stand of trees near the car.  An angry farm dog began barking and growling a territorial warning, and it became a canine howling free-for-all.  There was a tense moment when we heard the soon of twigs breaking in the brush nearby.  My friend started to nervously laugh, and when I asked what was funny, she replied, "Oh, I guess I should have remembered that there are bears around here."  Apparently bear sightings are fairly common in the area.

  The show ended sometime after 1:30am.  The lights began to fade, like they were on a dimmer switch.  They didn't completely fizzle out, but they were slowly losing their intensity.  Since we were tired and cold, we decided to huddle back in to the car and began the trek home.

  I finally got back to my apartment around 3am.  We had a rather fun ten minutes of getting lost near a bunch of oil refineries, which were a rather magnificent sight with their blazing lights.  Unfortunately, the smell was nauseating and I felt like breathing in the air was going to induce an asthma attack.

  Soon as I got home, I rang up the one person I knew would be awake, and signed on to my blog to announce I'd (finally!) seen the beautiful lights. And now, as promised, here is the account of my first experience with the incomparable aurora borealis.

  Aurora Borealis Videos:

Aurora Borealis Explained

Beautiful Aurora Borealis in British Columbia

Aurora Borealis in Norway

aurora borealis

... I finally witnessed the incomporable aurora borealis! It's almost four in the morning, so I am going to wait to write about the amazing light show. Check back tomorrow for a full report. All I can say for now is that my evening consisted of beautiful northern lights, accompanied by the yipping and howling of coyotes. Absolutely amazing.

baby, it's cold outside ...

  It's the first day of spring, but you wouldn't know that from the weather.  The wind is howling, the sky is a mass of dreary clouds, and the temperature is cold.  Every now and then a particularily vicious blast of air rattles my windows.  It is quite discomforting, especially when I consider that back home, it is warm, sunny and a week away from the peak of cherry blossom season.  Needless to say, nothing is growing here yet. The plants have all wisely decided to wait another month or so before poking their heads above ground.

 While the weather here is depressing, there is one up side to it.  There's is absolutely no temptation -- zero, zilch, nada -- to go outside and play. This means that I'm forced to stay inside, stare at my computer screen, and attempt to write papers.  So, while I read my friend's status updates on Facebook about the 'sunny weather,' 'first day of SPRING!' and 'WARM TEMPERATURES!!,' I can console myself with the fact that it's cold, being outdoors sucks right now, and I'm better off holed up in my apartment doing school work (or pretending to).

  Oh, and just so you can see what I mean by the statement that "being outdoors sucks right now," here's pictorial proof. Don't say I didn't warn you.