G(ay)LEE

I was pretty late jumping on the Glee bandwagon. When the pilot first aired in 2009 my mom and I were watching TV and she flipped to the channel, suggesting I might like to see what Glee was all about. I’ve been involved in music extra-curricularly my whole life, but I only made it through the first 10 minutes before returning to my Gilmore Girls DVD.

Cut to this past summer, when I was bored and decided to give Glee a second chance. What piqued my interest was probably witnessing my peers proclaiming the Glory of Glee all over Facebook and the blogosphere for months…not to mention, in particular, some tantalizing hints I’d read about Brittana. I persevered, and have now watched every episode that’s ever been aired.

But, let’s get something straight: I am not a Gleek. I could care less about the majority of Glee’s subplots (e.g. Finn & Rachel, Mr. Schuester, the survival of the Glee Club). I will even admit to fast-forwarding through a lot of the musical numbers the Glee Club performs (especially if it’s a Finn & Rachel ballad). In fact, initially I would only half-watch the episodes while, say, cooking or reading.

So what held my interest, through 32 episodes? In a word, Kurt. Kurt Hummel, Glee’s token gay. Through those two seasons I gaped at Kurt’s amazing voice [he is the only character whose songs I never skip], cried when he came out to his father, looked on helplessly as he was bullied, and beamed when he watched the Dalton Academy Warblers perform for the first time.

Despite having never experienced some of the awful things Kurt went through, I found that his character still very much resonated with me and, I would imagine, with queer kids everywhere. Queer kids who have been bullied, who have struggled with being the only “out” person in their community, who have worried about coming out to their parents, who have mourned the lack of queer peers. Here was this flamboyant, courageous young man living our lives on the small screen.

I must confess, I intended at first to write a good ol’ “you’re doing it all wrong!” roast regarding Ryan Murphy and co.’s treatment of Kurt’s character on Glee. However, as I thought more about Kurt and Glee, my take on the matter changed. Perhaps Glee has put me in a musical mood (hey, it could happen!), but whenever I think about it now, Hairspray’s, “Come So Far (Got So Far To Go)” enters my head.

The fact that a wildly popular, primetime TV show has shown the struggles of a gay teenager in a not-necessarily-outright-homophobic-but-still-uncaring school system at all is fantastic. The team behind Glee surprised – and impressed – me with the Karofsky [Kurt’s bully] plot twist. Showing a seemingly straight, extremely macho football player who is so terrified of harbouring same-sex tendencies that he bullies the only gay kid as a way of distancing himself from all that is homosexual? I was not expecting such depth from Ryan Murphy and the Glee team. This: the “come so far.”

A more detailed exploration of the Karofsky storyline would be too much to hope for, considering he is such a minor character, but I feel the Glee team could have explored more of the Kurt-as-being-gay one. For a number of episodes, it was so refreshing to be able to witness a gay kid facing – and overcoming – some of the struggles that are faced by queer youth each and every day, around the country. But, I understand that the storylines had run their course. Glee is not a show about gay kids; it’s a show about the Glee Club (which apparently justifies incessantly repetitive storylines revolving around the Glee Club being cancelled…but I digress).

Yet, Glee is also about misfits. And the sad reality is that many LGBTQ youth are misfits. We are bullied at school, rejected by our parents, experience loneliness and isolation due to a lack of role models. We are essentially invisible in popular media. Which is why, even if I am not a Gleek, I am 100,000% Team Kurt. You keep Kurt on Glee and I am a (relatively) happy camper. Because exposure, at least, is something. Exposing even a few of an LGBTQ youth’s harsh realities is a step in the right direction.

But we’ve still got so far to go.

Ignorance is Bliss

As I was pondering life in the shower (as I am wont to do), I realized that - despite the fact that I am nearing the onset of a Death Week - my productivity is tanking. Tanking. Yesterday was a very full day (events-wise and thoughts-wise) starting at 7:45am, and when I got home at 7ishPM all I wanted to do was make some dinner & watch TV. So I did - I made some awesome, suuuper easy guacamole and watched Parenthood online. And then I..what. I don't even know. Read archive posts from www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com. Messed about on the interwebs. Did everything except follow the Plan of Action I'd created for my Psych of Women paper that's due on Monday. Eventually I realized that I Was Procrastinating, that I didn't feel like working at all, and that I should just go to bed in the hopes of catching up on my work en route to school.

And then today I got home from volunteering at 8:30ish, had some dinner and dealt with yet another mini-crisis for my Nutty French Project. Did some group work over MSN while reading more Hyperbole and a Half. Read all the way to the first entry. Went looking on Facebook for more distractions, and came across a friend's Tumblr. She's in Geneva on exchange, so I read through all her entries and, yet again, regretted my Exchange Cop-out. Realized that it was after 11:00 and that I should be doing work because I'm already behind in my essay Plan of Action. Decided to shower, then start. But then I felt the urge to blog, so here I am. I gave myself 30min but pretty sure that's already passed. Whatever. I can go to bed as late as 2:30 tonight (wake up tomorrow at 10, leave at 10:45...get home close to midnight, probably. Urrgh.)

Anyway, while I was in the shower I tried to figure out why I was procrastinating. And concluded that it's because I'm scared. Scared of starting work on my paper and realizing that it's horrible and that I'll have SO MUCH more work to do than I'd previously anticipated. It's so much easier to just mess around, clicking on random Internet things, and blissfully not know that my essay is horrible.

I try to remind myself that these are manageable steps I've broken the essay process into, that it won't actually take that long, that I still have plenty of time to fix it if it's horrible. But then I click on a link and, the next time I glance at my laptop clock, an hour has passed and the essay has yet to be touched.

I think I'm also feeling a little disenchanted with school because I've been getting not-ideal grades on a bunch of things I've turned in feeling good about them - feeling like I definitely got the A. One of these things was an essay I started a week early, planned out beautifully, wrote gradually, got Laura to edit, edited again myself, and was proud of. And now that I've set out a similar process (gradual writing & revising) Monday's paper, I guess I am wondering what the point of all this preparation is if I'm not going to get a good grade on it anyway! It's frustrating!!

(I was about to go into a tangent/rant about everything about school I've been disenchanted with, but I simply don't have time for that.)

Well, I haven't resolved anything. My temporary solution is just to soldier on and deal with my apprehensions later. So here's what I'mma do: publish this post, close my computer, make myself some hot chocolate, put on another sweater, and settle into my little Study Nook. In other words, get 'er done! T-2hours until bedtime.

P.S. In case you're wondering about the photo, I don't yet have any taken of my Study Nook [though you can see my purple desk lamp peeking over the headboard] so I posted one of my bed [or, actually, nearly my entire room], where I am currently perched (on the right side, leaning against the blue pillow). Obv it is not light out anymore.

(Edit: I just added a photo of one of the quotes from my Inspirational Board - it says "It is easy to dodge our responsibilities, but we cannot dodge the consequences of dodging your responsibilities" - Sir Josiah Stamp.

John/Joan

I don't know if you have heard about the John/Joan case - I hadn't until today - but it's pretty shocking. You can find the details here but basically, there was a little Canadian boy, code-named "John" who lived in the 60s. An accident during surgery led to him losing his penis, so ultimately he went through gender reassignment surgery and was raised as a girl and his parents were instructed to never tell "her" the truth - that she had been born a boy. This was with his best interests in mind, because his parents believed he could not live a normal life as a boy without a penis. So, she was renamed "Joan" (actually, Brenda). However, she always felt she was different, longing to play with her twin brother's toys and rebelling against the highly feminine constraints placed on her by her parents. At age 14 the testosterone she was born with kicked in, so that she had breasts (from the estrogen she'd been taking) in addition to a very deep voice. Her schoolmates mocked her mercilessly. Suicide attempts ensued. At 15 she decided to live as a boy. Her parents told her the truth about her identity. "John" did end up getting married and having kids, but ultimately committed suicide.
[There are some revealing details about the doctor (John Money)'s investment in the case, etc. but that's not really relevant to this post.]

It's a pretty awful story, to say the least. We watched video interviews of "John" today in my Psych of Women class and I felt so, so bad for the little boy forced to live in a[n extremely feminine] girl's body. I can understand why the decision was made for him to be raised as a girl (at a time when plastic surgery wasn't developed enough to reconstruct a penis, his parents feared he wouldn't be viewed as normal if he didn't have one) - it's just really bad luck.

Naturally, when "John" shared his story, there was a massive response of horror. Even using the example of the discussion we had in my Psych of Women class, people reacted with "how could they have done this to the poor boy!" "It's not right!" "They should have at least waited until he was old enough to pick his own gender!"

But. Okay. People. I feel as if everyone is viewing the John/Joan case as an entity separate from anything else that occurred during the 60s-70s, that it was a freak accident resulting from a botched surgery, and that if he had been allowed to grow up as John, with or without a penis, his life wouldn't have been so horrible. Which is perfectly valid to say in hindsight, because of course, when something bad happens, we look for places to lay the blame. We don't actually know if his life would've been easier - maybe the fact that he didn't have a penis would have also subjected him to ridicule from his cruel and unaccepting peers.My course instructor did draw this link, very briefly, but it was quickly skipped over: trans people! The whole issue of feeling as if you're living in the wrong body (and subsequent mental health problems that may occur as a result), taking hormones, peer rejection and humiliation...these are things that transsexual/transgendered individuals continue to go through today, 40 years later, in 2010. And let's face it, today's society may still be transphobic, but that is nothing compared to how I am certain life was like in the 60s-70s for trans people (if they even came out...).

So basically, I wish people would realize that John/Joan was not the only kid going through intense gender identity conflict. The circumstances were extremely special, because he was assigned to the opposite gender, but the feelings were not. Feeling like a freak, like something's wrong with you, like you don't belong...you get the idea. John/Joan's case sucks, but he was not the only kid feeling these feelings - his circumstances were just such that he ended up receiving all the attention.

This tremendous oversight made me mad. Because my heart breaks every time I hear another story about a transboy* growing up, thinking he is a freak, and generally not being able to live life as he wants to - in a skin that feels comfortable, feels right. Or a transgirl* who just wants to be like all the other girls instead of being told to "man up." I'm generally not an emotional person, but stories like these legitimately make me want to cry.* For peeps not familiar with the terminology, "transboy" = individual who is biologically female but identifies as male; "transgirl" = individual who is biologically male but identifies as female. And no, those aren't the technical terms. It would actually be "transman" and "transwoman," or some variation on that. I'm just being cute. :)

Straight Girl Update

This morning in French class, I did a double take beeeecaaauuusee.... Straight Girl - or someone who intensely resembles Straight Girl - is in my class!

What's more is that we're in the same group for the semester-long group project.

Of course.

I don't know about you, but I find it rather funny that, of all the classes at school and all the Straight Girls I was interested in, we would end up in the same early-morning French course.

(Further update: I am over her. After getting to know her a bit better, I'm no longer Interested. Just so y'all don't get any Big Ideas about the two of us, toiling away together on this project...]

In Which Care Attends Her First Queer Night

Last night was a somewhat momentous occasion in Care's Gay Development: I went to my first queer pub night. The decision to go had been somewhat spur-of-the-moment - I'd casually mentioned it a few days ago to my roommate, Rebelle, as an alternative to Dance Cave, but it didn't come up again until Thursday night, when Reb saw how much I wanted to go and agreed to do it.

I had to go to school Friday afternoon, so Reb offered to raid our wardrobes and set out some clothing options for me to wear. I told her to feel free to "gay it up a bit" because I was concerned that, since I'm not the gayest-looking chick, people at the pub night would not know that I was Interested in Girls.

When I got home I chose the outfit that was the most Me (and, okay, the gayest) - a pair of skinny jeans and one of Reb's shirts. Reb did my make-up.

Both Reb and our other roommate, Lou, could tell that I was Pretty Darn Excited for the night. I was also Pretty Darn Nervous, as I was hoping it might be The Night I Met Someone Special.

En route to the bus stop, Reb and I talked about how much she loves Turner, her boyfriend, and about my Coming Out Process - when I knew, how I knew, what it's like to come out. NB: if you have also been wondering these things, feel free to ask! :)

On the bus we saw two girls we both knew from classes/residence last year. They sat with us at the pub and revealed that they'd been dating for nearly a year! I was surprised because only one of them had ever tripped my gaydar, and I'd seen them hang out last year but always thought they were just friends. They were both pretty cool and we danced with them for a bit (though they left early, partly because one of them was still underage and couldn't drink to get her dance on).

When we first arrived, the place was kinda dead, so Reb and I started drinking - a dose of Liquid Courage for me and a desire to get plain ol' drunk for she.

I was sitting with my back to the dance floor but asked Reb to scout out any Perspectives (since she was my self-proclaimed "straight wingman" for the night). She soon pointed a girl out, and when I turned to get a better look at her, I was definitely Interested. I immediately noticed that she was very pretty and she was not a very good dancer. The more I saw, the more she reminded me of myself (eg., how she was embarrassed to find herself in the centre of the dancing circle) and the more I wanted to meet her.

Upon joining the dancing throngs, Reb and I began to manoeuvre ourselves so as to join their circle. It was somewhat successful. Reb then went off to grind with one of the Girl's friends and I was left dancing (hopefully not too awkwardly!) on the outskirts of the Girl's circle. We smiled at each other a few times, and at one point she commented to me on her friend Max's exuberant dancing. Things were looking pretty good!

But then tragedy struck, so to speak. Reb, in her wingmanliness, had convinced her grinding companion to do a little recon, i.e., find out the Girl's sexuality and relationship status. He then reported that, alas!, she was straight. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Soon after I left Straight Girl's circle and scanned the room for any other Perspectives. [In hindsight, I thought it might have been a good idea to introduce myself to Straight Girl, bemoan the fact that she was straight, and then ask her to dance anyway, where we would subsequently bond based on our shared lack of dancing skillz. But of course, I did not think of this until I was back at home, many hours later.]

Meanwhile, Reb was being all Good Samaritan and grinding with a guy who'd previously been sitting alone at a table, so I was left to manoeuvre myself into another circle. The girls in this one were decently attractive but I wasn't particularly interested in any of them. Still, it was fun dancing with them and belting the words along to the music; my friends Molson, Coors, and Bacardi had been very helpful in loosening me up.

The highlight of my night came shortly afterwards. One of the girls in my new circle, with whom Reb had chatted a bit at the bar, asked me what my name was, then introduced herself. She then said, as parting words (I am guessing, since she left the dance floor after this), "I like you - you're really cute!" This marked the first time anyone - guy or girl - had ever said something like that to me, and I liked it!

Reb and I stayed a bit longer, then had to leave to catch the bus home. It was only then that I realized how drunk she was. I myself was decently inebriated (though I'd had at least one less drink than she), but I sobered up pretty fast when faced with the task of getting us both home. It was fine and we made it: a good night. I couldn't wait to tell Lou - and all you guys - about it!

Despite not making any headway on Romantic Prospects, I still had a lot of fun. Reb was an excellent wingman, and I did have a good time dancing. The event was not what I'd expected, but in a good way - it was more intimate and had a great community feeling to it.

I would definitely go again, but with a few changes for next time. First, I would ask Reb to put a bit less makeup on me, because every time I looked in the mirror I kept thinking, 'Who is that?' I would probably also pick out my own clothes. I do have a decent eye for style and, now that I know I don't have to gay myself up that much to Imply Interest, it won't matter as much what I wear.

Finally, I would drink a bit less (man oh man, I did not have a good night's sleep!) It was fine for this time because it led me to discover my magic number of drinks (3), but last night I unnecessarily surpassed it. This drinking reduction could result in me feeling less confident in my dancing, but that may not be a bad thing. I'm just not the sexy-dancing, grinding-type girl, and if it takes me several drinks to become one such girl, then I'm clearly not being very Me-ish. Also, one of the things I immediately liked about Straight Girl was the fact that she was not a good dancer but was still trying and having a good time. So maybe next time another girl will notice - and like this - about me! Here's hoping...

Up, Down, All Around

I've been done work for just over two weeks and so far I have managed to stave off boredom - a very good thing. Here's what I've been up to:

• Feeling nostalgic about work being over and reflecting on my experience.
• Hardcore cleaning my room. It was unlivably, disgustingly cluttered when I moved back home and I hated it, so I've been reorganizing and getting rid of A LOT of things, be it recycling them or putting them aside for donation. It's so liberating to dispose of things I no longer want, use, or need but that I've held onto for so many years.
• I went up to Christine and Alexander's cottage for a few days, which was awesome (and also exactly what I needed to look forward to in my post-work nostalgic haze). I got to do all of the Up North-y things that are, in my mind, summer essentials: swimming in the lake, reading on the dock (and jumping in the lake when it got too hot), campfire-ing (even if it was lit by a blowtorch), small town ice cream outings, canoeing, and so on. It was also nice to be around people 24/7 again like I'd been at work, after a week of being home, mostly alone during the daytime.
• Reuniting with high school friends. Six of us went out for lunch the other day and it was fantastic. I always find that I don't realize how much I miss people until I actually spend time with them again, and this was no exception. It was also great to catch up with them, and to see how their quirks, interests, and personality traits that I recalled from years past have begun manifesting themselves as passions, fields of study, extracurriculars, and career aspirations.
• Planning things for the extracurricular activity in which I am very involved (as many of you know). We had a series of very long meetings to iron out some major details for the upcoming school year, and I'm feeling good about how things are going so far.
• Slooooowly adding onto a number of blog drafts I have sitting around on my computer. I intend to post some of them shortly, but the main issue is that I started these drafts back in July when the topics were very much on my mind but, due to the busy-ness of work, I didn't have the time to make them publishable. And now that I have the time, I find myself lacking the motivation to do so because I now have new things on my mind and these have been pushed to the inner reaches of my brain. So I simply have too many blog-meriting thoughts milling about my head! I can't wait to move in with my roommates in a few weeks because I'll actually be able to talk to them, face to face, about such thoughts. For now my sole outlet is writing, and you can see how that's going...
• Thinking about the move, and trying to picture fitting all of my stuff into a small bedroom. I have been spoiled with reasonably large living spaces all my life (or, the small ones have only been temporary), so this will be a change to get used to! I honestly don't know if I can fit a dresser, desk, and double bed in my apartment bedroom.

So yes, clearly I have been keeping myself pretty busy. But, I always find that when I'm home for the summer I feel as if I'm just biding my time. As the title of this post suggests, I've been occupying myself by looking both forward (apartment, classes, extracurricular activity) and back (old friends, cleaning, incomplete blog drafts) but never really paying attention to the present. I had a great time at work and I can't wait for classes to start and to be living in my apartment with my roommates, and the time in between these has essentially morphed into limbo. I'm not bored because I am aware of my propensity to summertime boredom and have consequently worked at staying busy, but I'm really not doing much. I'm going on vacation with my parents for a week, soon, so that will hopefully provide a welcome change of pace.

In the meantime, I'm hoping to see a few more friends and to start brushing up on my French. I've started reading some of my French-language Archie comics every night, and once I've finished them I may move on to magazine articles, short stories, and novels. Also, the booklist for my upcoming Children's Lit course was just posted so I'll be collecting the 20 books from around my house, as well as various used bookstores.

Finally, I've been sitting outside for about an hour, first drafting this post and writing it out by hand, then typing it up, finding an appropriate picture, and publishing it. And this hour has been one of the best I've had in a while because in all my "busy-ness" I haven't taken much time to be alone with my thoughts, and this was the perfect setting to do so. (And also, it's freezing in my house due to excessive A/C so the comfortable warmth of the outdoors is a nice change.)

One Proud Step for Care

The past week and a bit was Toronto's Pride Week. The only event I attended was the Pride Parade, but I was downtown on Canada Day (doing a scavenger hunt with our students, since we cannot hold classes on a statutory holiday) so I was witness to a bit of the Week's action. And what I saw made me very, very happy. From stores featuring Pride flags in their window displays to chocolate shops with rainbow-coloured marshmallow kebabs to the Pride flag waving prominently at New City Hall, it was so, so nice to see all these little gestures of support.

On the day of the parade, when I first stepped off the subway at Bloor and saw a spirited bunch of people approximately my age who were obviously headed to Pride, I felt a surge of excitement. I couldn't wait to be standing along the parade route, caught up in the contagious enthusiasm of the thousands of people who had turned out in droves to celebrate.

I met Annie outside RBC, feeling so glad I had found someone to go with. I probably would have still gone by myself (I was adamant about getting the day off work because I felt like this was Something I Needed To Do), but I would have kept to myself and, doubtlessly, would not have had as much fun.

Since we had a good 2 hours before the Parade started, we decided to check out the community market on Church St., which consisted of food stands, information booths, Pride-themed or -discounted objects to purchase, and free swag. We stopped by our school's booth to say hi and were given some swag (like a pair of much-needed sunglasses) from random passersby, which was awesome, but, hands down, my favourite part was the exposure to the gay community. People wore badges saying things like "lesbian," and "single" and made out with their same-sex significant other and dressed in ridiculous clothes and/or nothing at all and wished strangers "Happy Pride!" and didn't bat an eye when Anne chased after the "I like dick" sticker people in search of one such sticker whereas I politely declined it (hey, just being honest!)

When it was closer to parade time, we grabbed a place on a Bloor St. curb with the brilliant plan of looking over everyone's heads and thus having a perfect view. In theory it was excellent; in practice, not so much. We ended up being able to see the floats really well, but it was difficult to see anyone walking on the street unless they were wearing an elaborate headdress or holding signs in the air.

Thankfully, there were a lot of floats, headdresses, and signs, so we could still make out plenty of the action. I really enjoyed seeing the big-name groups like TDSB; mayoral candidates Rocco Rossi, George Smitherman, and Sarah Thomson; Toronto EMS; and Jack Layton lend their support. It made the whole thing seem more mainstream, I suppose. By having such exposure, I feel the view of the gay community as being just another normal, accepted, and celebrated group of people was reinforced (as opposed to being viewed as a small minority group of misfits, outcasts, and weirdos) - which is pretty rockin'.

Even so, the parade was not what I'd expected. I expected to see dancing in the streets and hear lots of energized cheering, despite the hot temperatures. But, standing on a curb straining to see the groups of marching people (we missed the nudity!), I felt kind of removed from the action. And also, all the beautifully flamboyant and proud people from Church St. seemed to have been replaced by loud teenagers, tourists, families, and old people - some of whom I sensed were there more for the spectacle than the underlying reason behind it. They cheered when drag queens in elaborate get-ups or nearly-naked men gyrating on a float passed by, and threw up their hands to grab the goodies being tossed into the crowd. They snapped pictures of float after float and rainbow flag after rainbow flag, but they barely noticed Brian Burke or the countless other individuals taking the important step of marching for their own private/personal reasons.

Or maybe they were there to support the gay community. My point is that the celebrated (gay community) was nowhere to be found amid the celebrating (parade-goers) [And they can't all have been marching in the parade!]. I'll admit I kind of hoped I'd become bffs with some gay peeps standing next to us, form an insta-bond, and party the night away with them. But that didn't happen. Perhaps they were busy partying it up elsewhere, part of a secret club into which I have yet to be initiated.

At any rate, seeing pride flags around downtown and walking along Church St. meant that my first Pride experience was a good one. Even though it was a relatively small step for me in terms of my coming out process, it is significant in comparison to Care, version 2009. I distinctly recall being on the subway train northbound from Union Station last June, having just returned from visiting Abby in 'Loo, when a large, rambunctious group of parade-goers poured into my car. I remember thinking how it might have been cool to see the parade, but I was so scared of anyone (especially parents) finding out I'd gone, because of the conclusions they might have subsequently drawn. But this year? Not so much. I told anyone who asked (and some who didn't) exactly what I did on Sunday, July 4 - including my mom. So. Let them draw their conclusions...they're probably right! :)

Note: Don't forget you can ask me anything. Private message me, ask me in person, ask it in the comments...if you're curious about something, I'd be happy to clear it up!

The Fine Line between Protective and Overprotective

We live in the age of the helicopter parent. Though my parents gave me a decent amount of independence, they were also somewhat overprotective. It was annoying at the time, but I understand the reasoning behind it: they love me and didn't want anything too horrible to happen to me (such as unruly gangs or other bad seeds).

So fine. My parents, quite understandably, didn't want me to get killed. But in terms of emotional protection, they left me to make my own decisions about the friend I would hang out with, schools I would attend, extracurriculars in which I would participate (with the notable exception of not being allowed to quit piano lessons). Having high school friends whose parents were pressuring them into studying particular things in university (e.g., medicine), I really appreciated the ability to choose my own path. So, even though it was a nuisance to have to be picked up from the subway station instead of taking the bus by myself - and by 10:30, since my 'rents go to bed early - it was preferrable to being told what to do with my life. They took steps to ensure my physical well-being but left my soul's well-being in my hands. Thank goodness.

Apparently, some parents have trouble with this balance. I recently came across an article in the Toronto Star about two groups of parents who are suing the Greater Toronto Hockey League (GTHL) for cutting their sons from the team. In essence, they are blaming the GTHL for ruining their sons' self-esteem and causing them to quit hockey (which was something they had previously loved), etc. etc.

This article has 144 comments, the majority of which agree with me: Get Over It. Believe me, I know how it feels to not make it onto a sports team: it hurts. Okay. Maybe the boys will decide to quit hockey, doubting their abilities in the face of this failure. Fine. But really, time will heal the pain. They may feel bitter for a while, but eventually they will find other fun activities and will forget all about the GTHL.

This is why I think it is a terrible idea for the parents to sue the GTHL for emotional damages. Physical injury is one thing because it is lasting (and a lawsuit could convince the League to introduce some sort of legislation or whatever to rectify the problem), but a bruised ego will heal. From the point of view of someone dependent-on-parents-but-recently-turned-somewhat-independent, I firmly believe that parents should not endeavour to protect their children from every kind of pain. Yes, it's incredibly difficult to watch someone close to you struggle through something when you want to do everything you can to make it go away. But, sometimes you just have to let them work through the hurt, ya know? There will come a time when they'll have to handle such things on their own, and if they're left totally unprepared to deal with it, well, that could be a problem...

A Month in the Life

I dropped by my blog this afternoon to see if there had been any new visits to my profile (there haven't been) or any new comments (none), then realized that it's been nearly a month since I had last published a post! I started writing drafts of new ones, but they always ended up being partially-formed thoughts I was not inspired to finish, and who wants to read about that?

Also, I've been superbusy with work, especially last week. So it's really no wonder that this month has flown by. To quote Gretchen from The Happiness Project, "The days are long but the years are short." This may also explain why it's only Day 4 of my week off yet I'm already bored. Because I haven't made any concrete plans with my friends yet, I've just been lounging at home in my pyjamas, eating, and rereading Harry Potter. I'm nearly done Book 5 (which is, I think, my least favourite), and I only brought Book 6 home with me, having lent Book 7 to a coworker, so I'm going to try to cut back my HP consumption if I want it to last the rest of the week.

So, new things in the Life of Care:

- Work is going really well but it's really nice to have the week off, both for relaxing purposes as well as alone time. Even if I am bored.

- I'm hoping I can get off work on July 4 to see the Pride Parade - my first!

- I'm staying the heck out of downtown, definitely starting Friday (but possibly earlier, since the protesting has already started) due to the G20 summit. Which I hope will be worth all the inconvenience it's causing the citizens of Toronto.

- Some of my coworkers & I are planning to check out a gay club (my first!) sometime after our week off. I am looking forward to this more than they realize, since I've only come out to one of them so far.

Well, this has been a whole lot of nothing, but at least it is a new post! I am now trying to decide what to do now: watch a movie, read more HP, eat, or sort through some photos of Little Care that my mom mentioned are in a closet somewhere in the basement. What to do, what to do..

A very merry un-Birthday to me

My birthday was a few days ago and I noticed that many people seemed to be very intent on wishing me the Best Day Ever, then later asking me how it had been. The day was just fine - I hung out with my family and had a low-key dinner at Mandarin - but it wasn't anything particularly special.

You see, my favourite kind of day cannot be specifically planned out. A lot of what makes a day special for me is coincidence: the right things happening at the right time. For example, I love having deep, insightful conversations with people (primarily, but not limited to, close friends). We talk about somewhat hidden facets of our personality, share secrets, and get to know each other at a more personal level. But, these types of conversations cannot be planned (though I have tried) - they must happen organically, when the time is right.

I am going to outline for you what a Perfect Day in the Life of Care would look like. To aid this process, I looked through my Happy Book (in essence, a daily gratitude journal) entries from Aug 30-Dec 22, 2009 [100 days].

Here's how my day would go:
- Hanging out with my cats and having some time to myself for personal reflection.
- Being productive or accomplishing something difficult (this could include organizing something, coming out to someone, finally replying to an e-mail, etc.)
- Taking a walk in the rain and/or unseasonably warm weather with a close friend and have a deep conversation with them. We would also do something fun, like going to a playground.
- Noticing the little things in life (which in those 100 days included driving through Atlanta, seeing wooden train models hanging in a tree near Belleville, encountering an elephant on Yonge St. on Hallowe'en, the beautiful Old Mill subway station, the perfect Scrabble board, a free temporary tattoo with a cow on it, etc. etc.)

For me, a birthday is just like any other day. If it happens to go amazingly well, that's great; otherwise, it's no big deal because there will be other, even more amazing, days.

"Is this water safe to drink?"

This past weekend I supervised a canoe tour of the Toronto Islands. (Yeah, I have an awesome job.) The sights were beautiful and the weather was fantastic, yet I found myself becoming increasingly frustrated as the trip progressed.

Upon arrival, the 45 of us had been divided into groups and seated in 3 giant war canoes. The tour guides told each person specifically where to sit and, because I am short/do not weigh very much, I was placed in the front of my canoe. This meant that I was the Official Pace Setter for my side of the canoe, just as the girl beside me was for her side.

The route was fairly short - canoeing from the Harbour to the Islands (a 15-min trip by ferry). I did not time how long it took us to paddle the distance, but it felt very, very long. Now, I have done a fair bit of canoeing, and the key thing to know is this: canoeing is all about teamwork. If everyone paddles at the same time, the canoe will move faster. If everyone paddles at different times (or..*cough*..not at all), it's a lose-lose situation: the canoe will not move nearly as fast AND each stroke will take more individual effort. Suffice it to say that the latter situation was what I experienced. People, if they were even paddling (i.e., taking a break from mugging for the camera), did not stroke in unison. Even my fellow Official Pace Setter and I were not paddling at the same time. [You can see in my photo how far behind the other canoes we were - but also how beautiful it was!]

Now, you should know that I am big on fairness ("James got to do xyz and I only got to do x!"), so it really bothers me when I feel people aren't pulling their weight, surtout in situations requiring teamwork.

I recognized that I was feeling annoyed at my fellow canoe-ers and realized that it was beginning to spoil what had the potential to be a great day. So then I had to make a decision: would I continue to stew about the slacking paddlers, then complain about them to my fellow monitors when it was over OR would I take the Zen Approach and not let myself be bothered by other people's actions?

It may seem obvious to you that the Zen Approach was infinitely more attractive, and it is indeed the one I chose. But it wasn't easy. Ranting about things is a very popular means of socialization, especially when you share common circumstances with people but don't necessarily know them very well (as is the case with the monitors & I). It's kind of fun to complain and gossip about Person X and Person Y. I find people are not as interested if you gush about how beautiful the weather was, how awesome the wildlife was, how fun the whole trip was - they only want to hear the juicy parts, consisting of horror stories about various "Little Shits." And I am the same way.

In essence, I chose to sacrifice an opportunity for prime socialization in favour of mental contentment. But it was the right decision to make. I was proud of myself for jokingly encouraging the guy behind me ("We need all the strong men to paddle!") instead of silently stewing and feeling bitter. I was able to properly enjoy the trip and avoid the, er, negative effects of negativity.

And besides, I may have not had any reason to be bitter: maybe they just didn't know how to paddle!

How to maintain a friendship

In keeping with this theme of friendship, I present 15 tips for maintaining friendships.

[* In this post, I am merely the messenger. I may not agree with all these tips, but the purpose of ths entry is to give you an idea of what the "experts" are saying.]

1. Be an equal contributor to the friendship. It's all about give-and-take. You must be willing to give to the relationship so that it grows, as well as being able to accept what your friend is contributing.
2. Learn to listen. Sometimes when people approach you with a problem, they don't want a solution, as hard as this may be to believe. They often have an idea of what is to be done, but talking through the problem may help them arrive at a more conclusive means of handling the situation.
3. Inspire and encourage your friend. It feels pretty great to have someone believe in you and encourage you to persevere when you feel like giving up. They encourage you to make responsible decisions and motivate you to be the best person you can be, just as you encourage and motivate them.
4. Be tactful when pointing out a friend's mistakes. Nobody's perfect, so be nice about it - they may not be aware of the mistake they made or they may have felt justified in what they did. Don't walk away from a friendship when you see some of your friend's faults; give them a chance.
5. Try not to be a clingy, needy, or controlling friend. A healthy friendship needs breathing room and a quality friendship will withstand the test of time and distance. There can certainly be too much of a good thing. Plus, obsessive behaviour is creepy.
6. Make sure you are reliable and can be counted on. When you say you are going to be there, be there.
7. Know when to agree to disagree. In every friendship there will be argument. It is these such differences of opinion that make each person in the friendship unique and interesting.
8. Be willing to forgive. Don't let hurt turn to bitterness. Forgive your friend and move on.
9. Learn to keep private information private. The ability to keep a secret is an excellent demonstration of trustworthiness.
10. Be there for the good times and the bad. Share and celebrate successes, milestones and accomplishments, but also offer a shoulder to cry on.
11. Have fun together. Shared experiences are da bomb.
12. Trust each other.
13. Keep in touch.
14. Don't try to change the other person. Learn to accept personality differences in your friends.
15. Know when to leave a friendship. Sometimes, two people just cannot be together. If the give/take balance is wonky or if your friend is a toxic bundle of negative energy, well, it may be time to take steps in another direction.

[These tips are an amalgamation of those found at eHow/WikiHow/Knowledgesutra.com]

Hiatus

So. I just started my new job today (the camp counsellor-esque one). Even though all we did today was hang out, watch Cavs vs. Celtics basketball, and eat pizza, I am exhausted (well, and I moved in today - just finished unpacking! ...But I still have to decorate.)

Training starts tomorrow, then the students arrive!

Now, I've been trying to post every 1-2 days here, and so far it's been successful-ish, but I don't anticipate being able to do it once work officially starts up. However, I will try my very best to post as frequently as possible.

...Like Knives

I got a call this evening from the company where one of my high schoool friends works, selling knife sets. The woman mentioned that my friend had told her a bit about me, and she wanted to know if I would be interested in interviewing for a position with them. It was rather out of the blue. I'm not planning on calling her back, though, because I already have a job!

It starts in 2 days. I'm nervous but also excited, mostly about meeting my coworkers and getting to know them. It's a camp counsellor-esque position, which means that my fellow monitors & I will be spending a lot of time together and teamwork is emphasized. My friend/future roommate Rebelle & I have talked about how both of us would like to make more friends, since neither of us made that many this past school year. Seems like this could be an excellent opportunity!

I've been doing some thinking about friendship, and how I don't really understand its intricacies. But what I have figured out is this: friends are like knives. While it is true that some of my friends are sharp-witted, I am not in fact referring to the stabbing, cutting, damaging abilities of knives (because I don't find those qualities particularly attractive in humans, thank you very much).

We could talk about how each knife is unique (bread knife, paring knife, carving knife), much like how we meet friends in a number of places and how each of our friends has a different personality from the rest. We could also talk about how the same knife set can work wonders for one master chef yet not be the right fit for another.

But, I feel the most important part of the analogy is this: a sharp knife gets things done. Knives that are properly cleaned, sharpened, and maintained are infinitely more effective than blunt, rusty ones. Similarly, friendships must be maintained. It's a bit more difficult to sharpen a friendship than it is to sharpen a knife, but it must be done. In the words of the wise Gordon Ramsay, "It is so dangerous working in the kitchen with a blunt knife." Now, it may not necessarily be dangerous to live life with poorly-maintained friendships, but it sure ain't good for your mental health and general well-being.

So welcome the kitchen of life, baby. What's cooking?

Mother's Day Redux

My mom, Gma, & I were supposed to check out the Harry Potter exhibit at the Science Centre today - Mom's choice - to celebrate Mother's Day. But then I woke up with a horrible cramp, feeling all light-headed and cold and nauseous dizzy. So instead of checking out Snape's potions together, my mom ended up being the one providing a remedy (i.e., TLC and water).

We didn't get to see Harry's glasses or the Elder Wand, but we did go out for pie at this awesome place in my 'hood. The pie itself was dece' (I'm not a huge pie person), the quiche was deeelish, and the atmosphere was fantastic. The decor is all cottage-y/rustic-y with chipped paint and board games abounding, which makes it extremely cozy and laid back. Awesome! We taught Gma how to play Crazy 8s, which was pretty entertaining ("Care, why do I have to pick up 2?"), and sampled each other's food. Then, after a quick grocery shop and gas stop, Mom & I watched New York I Love You, an episode of Gilmore Girls with James, Pretty Woman with Dad, and the season finale of the Amazing Race.

The day didn't differ much from how Mom & I usually spend time together (especially all the TV watching), but I did go out of my way to be agreeable and open, which she seemed to appreciate. I'm lucky that I have all these opportunities for one-on-one hanging out with my mom, because some of my friends with multiple siblings rarely get the chance to do this.

Typical Summer Saturday

Welcome to Sharing is Care-ing! As a way of getting to know me, I present you with an idea of how my Typical Summer Saturday pans out:

[Note: May 8 does not constitute summer-as-a-season in my books, especially when it's all gross and windy outside, but we're talking summer vacances here, as in done-school-until-September-slash-haven't-started-work-yet. So.]

- Woken up by Azzarina's plaintive meows outside my bedroom door. I let him in, he sleeps on my legs. Good times for all.

- Get hungry. Go downstairs craving French toast, only to discover the Big Weekend Grocery Trip hasn't happened yet, so we have no bread. Settle for fruit and cereal instead.

- Read my favourite sections of the newspaper: Weekend Living, Comics & Puzzles, Entertainment, and Insight. Get rather excited upon glimpsing an article entitled "Why everything you know about the sexual revolution is wrong," accompanied by a photo of 2 girls kissing. Am then disappointed when it turns out to be a guy & a girl and the article is about birth control, not sexuality.

- Continue to laze around in my pjs, doing activities that include petting Plumpkin, checking e-mail, eating, watching Azzarina sleep, and starting a blog. All extremely productive, obv (aside from the blog, which is legit productive, as I've been thinking of starting one since January-ish).

...Actually, today is not the Typical Saturday because my dad and James are away for the weekend, getting the shiz beaten out of them physically & mentally for their black belt grading. But still.

At any rate, it's another run-of-the-mill Lazy Saturday chez Care. On the menu for tonight: Thai food and renting a movie with Mom for part of our Mother's Day celebrations.