I was chatting last night with my boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend(/old friend from public school) who also happens to have extremely strong ties to Ireland (both her parents came over from there), and we treaded in some extremely interesting waters. Once I was getting tired, and no longer cared if my ideas were coherent I shared something that had been striking me as odd but on which I had not yet been able to place a finger.
I find, I shared with her, that here in Canada it takes a very special event for me to put on makeup. And usually, makeup comes in an entire package with a nice skirt, good shoes etc. But I do it very, very rarely. And I would never throw on a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and some mascara, I just wouldn’t do it. But when I’m in Cork, I have no problem doing that, and I can’t figure out why.
We talked about it for a bit, and then I shared that when I was over there this past weekend I met the (relatively) new girlfriend of a close friend of mine and how bizarre it was that I felt myself saying, “she was GORGEOUS, and a really sweet girl.” –I would never do that here, talking about a girl’s appearance like that. It wouldn’t sound right. It wouldn’t imply the right things…
So then we started talking about how what it means to be feminine seems to be different in the two places. The implications of choosing to be feminine are different. I brought up one of my cousins, who is just about the most striking, glamourous person I’ve met in real life, and how she’s also brilliant, funny, strong, loving etc. …and we discussed that as an image that doesn’t exist here. Here you make a choice. Either you are beautiful and stupid, or you’re smart and ugly. Either you are the type who takes too much time worrying about your looks, or you’re the type who doesn’t care.
Here saying someone’s girlfriend was gorgeous would come with bizarre undertones to do with her being shallow, or perhaps unintelligent. There it doesn’t at all. It’s just a compliment, that perhaps also implies that she takes care of herself, and cares (positively) about her appearance.
Here we have this strange sense of all-or-nothing. And of femininity as a sign of being opressed and objectified. And the weird thing is I’m not in the least bit a feminist. I find it hard to believe that women in the west are actively opressed–but there is a perception left alive over here in North America that just seems very strange. How we present ourselves shouldn’t feel related to opression. To feel like strong independent women we shouldn’t have to hide our makeup and pretend we don’t love gorgeous shoes. Those should absolutely be independent issues altogether. Or should they? Are they?
September 26th, 2007
Those of you who see me at all regularly have probably noticed and/or had me explain to you the rather elaborate experimental diet I’ve been on for the last two months or so. The idea of the diet was simple enough: systematically uncover any food sensitivities and allergies that may be adversely effecting me. Fair enough and a good idea right? The thing is, my boyfriend, Gabe, did it with me, and frankly I was expecting the experience he has had. He felt extremely healthy when we did the ‘detox’ section and has been fine as we reintroduced all the foodgroups. Instead I have experienced a sensitivity to virtually everything we have reintroduced (with the exception of the “nitrate group”: tomatoes, potatoes, mushrooms and peppers–thank god!). I am apparently gluten-intolerent, have a sensitivity to corn, eggs, dried fruit and nuts, and dairy is bad for my skin. Crazyness I say.
Two reasons I write about this:
1. It’s almost getting to be winter again and by cutting these things from my diet I am expecting great improvements on last winter.
2. I wanted to share a little something about my recent trip. Basically for the last month and a half the patch of eczema on my hand has come extremely close to healing many times only to get slightly aggravated by new things I reintroduced. When I say slightly aggravated I mean it would go a bit more red, and maybe tickle a bit. On my way home to Canada this weekend I had to cheat on the diet a little wee bit, but to the best of my knowledge the only places I cheated were a. a bit of oil which wasn’t extra virgin olive oil, and b. some meat that wasn’t organic. The day I got home my head was killing me. Absolutely the worst headache I’ve had in years, and my eczema physically hurts it’s so dry and irritated.
Apparently my body is particularly sensitive, so fair enough. But I’m not reacting to nothing. This non-organic meat is actually pretty darn scary stuff. If you can’t afford organic, that right there is your best reason to become vegetarian.
September 25th, 2007
“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.
“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.”
“Not the same a bit!” said the Hatter. “Why, you might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’”!
–Lewis Carroll
September 16th, 2007
My Naturopath asked me today who in my family I related to the most. As my family (that I know well) is small, and my brother and I are like night and day I found my options whittled down to my parents very quickly, and it was an interesting question.
Those who know me and meet my mother, or vice versa know that in terms of my behaviour I am soooo my mother’s daughter. My voice sounds, and moves like hers. My hands wave like hers. I wander around what I mean to ask like she does. Many might be inclined to suggest that I am my mother’s daughter first.
And it does make sense that I act as much like her as I do. She was my model growing up, and I had(/ve) more respect for her accomplishments as a single mother than I can express. Plus I have her introversion, and so it makes sense that I would have developed her (elaborate) ways of coping with it.
Plus I know that she really works to understand her children, and I know that I can talk to her openly and honestly about my life choices and get nothing but support and positive advice (where needed) back. But there has always been an extent to which I feel fundamentally misunderstood with respect to my mother. Why, I can’t quite tell. She tries, and functionally speaking she usually succeeds. It’s just this sense I’ve always had (that has made our relationship difficult).
So my mind moves to Ireland and I think in many ways it’s my father’s mind that I have. I have his tendency to overanalyze. I have his sense of responsibility and agency in things well outside his control. I have his likelihood to dwell.
I have his obsession with the inner-workings of the minds of others. I have his need to express, and be understood in a backward way. I have his sarcasm. And it’s weird because when it comes to the big things I do not feel understood by my father. I am afraid to tell him about my life choices. I am conflicted between a desire for him not to feel disappointed and a sense that it’s less his business than he thinks it is. I often find myself (unintenionally) caging what I tell him about my accomplishments or fears (in ways I never would with my mother).
And yet I have this strange sense of being understood by him. On a fundamental level, when we are sitting across the table from one another I feel like “we get it”. There’s something essential about who each of us is that the other simply understands. And think that’s why the answer is that it’s my father I relate to most.
September 14th, 2007
I’m not one to stress about privacy really. In fact my philosophy on the matter is that no privacy for anyone (including governments and corporations) would serve us all extremely well. For us little guys it wouldn’t make a difference in the world, and it would screw the big guys over big time.
However, I still thought this was important, and interesting. Especially considering transparency into the agencies after this information (or their American counterparts for that matter) is far from ever being a reality. According to CBC:
Government agencies are moving to gain access to telephone and internet customers’ personal information without first getting a court order, according to a document obtained by CBCNews.ca that is raising privacy issues…
The information would include names, addresses, land and cellphone numbers, as well as additional mobile phone identification, such as a device serial number and a subscriber identity module (SIM) card number. The consultation also seeks input on access to e-mail addresses and IP addresses.
Personally I say: go for it if you want. But in exchange let us see your budgets, your names, your addresses, your cellphone numbers and your IP addresses. Tit for Tat. I bet yours is more interesting…
September 13th, 2007
There’s that time of year, namely right now, when 10-15 degrees celcius requires quite a few layers, probably a jacket, and maybe even light gloves for the weaker among us. It’s that time of year when we are coming down off of temperatures consistantly in the mid-twenties reaching as high as 35-40 when factoring in humidity.
And then there’s that time of year, in approximately six months, when 10-15 degrees celcius requires a t-shirt, possibly sandles, maybe even a tank top and shorts for the more ambitious among us. It’s that time of year when we are coming away from temperatures consistantly in the minus mid-twenties reaching as low as minus 35-40 when factoring in windchill.
Beautiful country. Amazing people and culture. Ridiculous (read: downright laughable) climate.
September 13th, 2007
Facebook began as a network for students at post-secondary schools. When I was in first year it was already available for students at the University of Toronto. Which was great. Because UofT is incredibly anti-social and so having an online system for connecting with people in your classes was an assett for us all. Then over the course of a year or so we enjoyed it as the universities our friends went to got on board.
Then Facebook started allowing highschool students to join too. Then everyone else. Which seemed weird, but we didn’t mind, who cared as long as we could still use it. But then, THEN they started adding all of these ridiculous applications clogging up people’s profiles making locating an individual’s wall virtually impossible. Which was a bit annoying.
And now. NOW… (…well, last month but I didn’t notice ’cause I wasn’t in class…) they got rid of their application for courses: which is to say there is now no one way to see who else is in your classes. Apparently there’s a bunch of third-party applications that could be used, but because there’s a bunch of them none of them will work like the original did (unless everyone uses every application). *sigh*. …now I feel like I’ve been tricked into joining some random social online network. And it makes me unhappy. Grrr Facebook!!
September 11th, 2007
They went into Iraq for “Weapons of Mass Destruction”….until they couldn’t find any. Then other justifications were thrown into the pot, and it was asked that we forget what they’d said before. Ignore it, if we didn’t mind.
Afghanistan? Finding Bin Laden? Meh. Not the goal anyway. Apparently. Although I coulda sworn that’s what they said they were goin’ in for. Check out Matt Good.
September 8th, 2007
I like to think that in today’s day and age the stigma surrounding mental illness is a thing of the past. I was lucky (in some ways) to be raised in a house that dealed openly and honestly with mental illness. My father sufferred from it and from a very young age (too young to fully understand, even) my brother and I were aware of it. When I was five years old and my mother found that she could not answer all my questions she took me to see my father’s psychiatrist so that I could really understand the situation to the best of my little brain’s ability.
But the truth is that the stigma is not gone. Matthew Good, has chronicalled his struggle with discovering he suffered from bipolar on his blog throughout this past year, and apparently recieved loads of emails and comments regarding the positivity surrounding someone so open. The stigma survives and people like Good are the exception.
I even had a coworker when I worked at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health who was afraid to admit to us that they suffered from a mental illness. We were all psychologists, psychiatrists and/or students of psychology working in a psychiatric hospital and they were afraid of being judged, or misunderstood.
How is it that this is still the case? Mental illnesses are a reality that can only be made worse by ignoring them. By being open, and dealing with them, they become easier to understand and may even be curable.
Please if there is someone in your family who suffers from a mental illness do what you can to see if they are recieving the help they need. If you feel that their condition is affecting you directly seek out support groups for the families of people with mental illness. If they are going to be in continual contact with children, teach the children as much as you can about the problems.
Don’t stigmatize these people. Their problems are real, and they exist for powerful reasons. Accept them, and help them to the best of your ability.
Read what CAMH has to say about stigmas regarding mental health
August 30th, 2007
Those of us living in Ontario (and possibly a bigger radius, frankly) are probably familiar with the age(/decade)-old Staples Business Depot ads equating back-to-school with “the most wonderful time of the year”. When I was a young’un I remember finding the TV ads of mothers skipping down the isles of the store vaguely offensive, but today I went to the U of T Bookstore (heinously overpriced, for the record) and collected my books for the upcoming year, and as I carried my parcel over to the basket on my bike that old Christmas song was playing happily in my head.
I love piles of new books. I love Tables of Contentses. I love looking at the closed covers on books with uncreased spines and imagining what knowledge will be imparted to me throughout the year as I happily work my way through their pages.
In summary: I am a nerd. And I’m loving it.
August 29th, 2007
Next Posts
Previous Posts